Sunday blues…

Controversial opinion time: I hate Sundays. I mean, I really hate them. Saturdays, I love! But for as long as I can remember, Sundays have sucked. It’s not necessarily the impending doom of school or work the next day, or the pressure to start yet another diet on Monday, I just always have a rubbish feeling on a Sunday.
If I spend the day relaxing (or chillaxing as I’m told the kids say), binge watching the US Office on Netflix and eating delicious junk food, it gets to about 6pm and I begin to feel incredibly guilty. What have I done with my weekend? What am I doing with my life?! I’m the worst.

If, on the other hand, I get up at a decent time and spend the day being super productive, it gets to around 6pm and I start to regret it all. Where has my weekend gone? When is the next time I’ll be able to relax? I am the worst.

Sundays as a child meant alternate weeks at my Dad’s house, eating Happy Meals, seeing my big sister and occasionally buying a new Garfield book from a car boot sale. Other times, it involved going to a dance exam, in an uncomfortable dress and desperately trying not to mess up. In the evenings, we would watch Scrapheap challenge and after a bath my mum would rake through my hair with a nit comb. Still, Sundays were not quite as bad then as they seem to be now.

Since graduating university, every Sunday seems to remind me how quickly things are going, and in some cases, how little things are changing. As much as I resolve to do life better every Sunday evening, the next Sunday reminds me how little I stuck to that. I make healthy lunches which tend to be substituted by office cookies. I book on to gym classes that always seem to be over taken by meetings. I remember that I don’t blog enough and I still have videos that need editing and maybe one week I’ll get up early enough every day to work out and make an effort, but that still hasn’t happened yet.

My poor boyfriend has to deal with this every week. I can’t remember a Sunday that | haven’t had at least one, little self-pitying cry. Between us, we’ve tried to find the perfect balance to create a happy Sunday. We’ve tried visiting people, and making things, and making roast dinners and staying in bed and making exciting plans and getting up early. We’ve not found the stead-fast thing yet. However, along the way we have discovered that there are some things that make me really happy. Starting the week with a tidy house for example. Cooking a lovely dinner from scratch whilst drinking wine. Doing some crafting in the living room during the evening whilst we watch a series on TV, and, of course, a big ol’ bubble bath, with some Lush products and a good book.

So for now, I’m going to keep plodding on with my quest for a happy Sunday, and be grateful that most of the things that help are pretty productive!

How about you? Does anyone else suffer with the Sunday Blues?