I have a nasty case of the Sunday blues. I have no idea where they came from but I am in a sad little funk.
I have never been crazy about Sunday nights. As a kid they meant that the next day was the start of the school week. As a parent, Sunday night means; get the laundry done and put away, get lunches packed, get the garbage and recycling out to the curb, buy groceries for the week, deal with e-mails that have piled up over the weekend, tidy up the detritus of the weekend and get the kids to bed in good time. It also means that the freedom and the fun, the loose routine and the easier feeling is gone until the next weekend. Sunday night means it is back to business.
I am well aware that there is another perspective that I could choose right now. I could choose to appreciate, be grateful for and look on the bright side of. I could watch a funny movie. I could phone my mom. I could watch inspiring Ted Talks.
There are a million things I could do to distract myself from feeling less-than-wonderful. However, the quiet little voice in my head is asking if that would really serve me tonight.
I tend to get very uncomfortable with anything less than inspired, happy, blissed-out and vibrant. I don’t like feeling down. It makes me feel edgy and uncomfortable and like I need to fix some aspect of myself to regain equilibrium. Tonight, however, I seem to be okay with the funk. Tonight it almost feels like a warm blanket that I am curling into and allowing.