Sunday Scaries. The day your weekend is over and the upcoming week is upon you. Often times associated with feelings of dread.
It’s 2:30 pm and you’ve lost all sense of time. You’ve only moved to refill your water, use the bathroom and to shift so you can spoon your laptop more comfortably. Your blackout curtains kept the room dark, which is fitting because your blackout choices from the night before have kept you in a dark place all day too. The only notification on your phone is from your mom. It reeks of stale vodka and you’re starting to worry that the smell might be coming from you. When the Netflix briefly goes black, you’re suddenly staring at your reflection. The night before starts to catch up with you in chilling spurts: brief but vivid. The memories roll in white hot and the sting of blacking out hurts like hell. You desperately need to calm down and wish you still hooked up with that boy with the Xanax prescription. Oh no. I didn’t really say that to Leslie, did I? I’ve really got to cool it on my outfit critiquing when I have Moscato coursing through my veins. Moscato is sweet, yet it makes me anything but. And no way did I run into Whatshisface. Didn’t he graduate? HE ENDED THINGS WITH ME BECAUSE HE WAS GRADUATING! Look pal, if you’re too old for college relationships, you’re certainly too old to participate in wine Wednesday. Oh no. I’m pretty sure I slurred that exact thought last night when I bumped into him with that freshman girl.
That monologue above is an excerpt from the horror story that I like to call ‘My Inner Thoughts On A Sunday Afternoon’. I know, I got chills and a bad case of nerves reading it too. Sunday scaries are the absolute devil and all the sinful behavior from the night is causing your Sunday to be absolute hell.
So you procrastinated on your online class project and now the doom and the nearing due date is setting in. So you self sabotaged the night before and maybe sent a text that should’ve stayed a subtweet in your drafts on Twitter. Now what?
Well next time you have a raging case of the scaries, I’ve provided the next steps on how to shake the Sunday blues.
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You’re self medicating when you should be mediating.
Put the adderall down. Put the Xanax down. And save the weed for after you get your stuff done (just kidding). But seriously, just step back for a minute. Compose yourself. Don’t work yourself up over last night’s plunders or tomorrow’s deadline. Before you crack out on Vyvanse or doze off with Ambien – sit cross legged, breathe like you’re in the yoga studio and realize everything’s going to be fine.
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Forgive & forget.
You’re livid with your time management or you’re mad at being cursed as a lightweight. And you can faintly hear your mother’s voice scolding you ‘the only person to be mad at is yourself’. So you procrastinated on your online class project and now the doom and the nearing due date is setting in. So you self sabotaged the night before and maybe sent a text that should’ve stayed a subtweet in your drafts on Twitter. Okay so now that the universe and you have addressed your bad behavior, you need to forgive yourself. If you can forgive Johnny ‘Delta Phi Alpha’ Smith for having Tinder on his phone than you can forgive yourself for some minor procrastination or that drunken altercation.
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Damage Control
Okay now that all the deep breathing and being one with forgiveness is over – your chakras are aligned and it’s time to handyman your life. Maybe you should chug a cup of coffee and swan dive headfirst into your homework. Don’t come up for breath until you’re satisfied with what you have done. Deleting your drunk texts is a form of self care – do this. Don’t linger over that misspelled ‘i miss you’ and definitely don’t re-read the perfectly spelled with proper grammar ‘I think I’m in love with you’. Text your friend you yelled at for confiscating your phone and remind her you love her.
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Make a Mental Note to Not Be A Menace Next Weekend
Get your homework done before the weekend so that you can spend your Sunday on things that really matter – binge watching Hulu. Remember you’re 100 pounds and five rounds of shots doesn’t do you any favors.
And if you don’t do number 4, it’s okay. You can try again next Sunday.
https://giphy.com/gifs/i-give-up-Zsc4dATQgcBmU
Header photo used from here