“Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know.”
It’s deja vu every weekend. More often on a Sunday, but can creep up on a Saturday or Friday night as well.
Your life runs on a well-timed schedule. You know where you will be at every hour of the day. You know how much time you have to do your assignments, when you’ll be home and what’s for lunch.
But the weekend has so much space for activity, you must be able to get so much more done.
The expectation is to catch up on school work, see your friends, call your parents, clean your house and find time for yourself. Until you realize you don’t actually have time to do more than two of those things.
The impending doom sets in.
The guilt of not spending enough time with anyone, and if you do, the guilt of not doing the school work you set out to complete.
Unrealistic expectations set you up for failure. No matter the choice you make this weekend, it’s the wrong one no doubt.
The only thing left to do is to have an emotional breakdown in a public washroom, as per tradition.
Typically when I write a blog, I have a solution to the problem. Not this time. I’ve been struggling and working on this for a couple of years, and I don’t have the answer.
I need to do a better job of finding time for unapologetic self-care. I love my friends, I love my family, I love my dog, but my favourite thing to do is spend time by myself.
I don’t like others filling up my weekend schedule with their plans for me. Say what you want about the human need for social interaction, I get enough throughout the week. I don’t want it on the weekend unless I have sought it out and planned it myself.
I know this personality trait offends many. However, if lifting, writing and walking my dog prevents me from a emotional breakdown, i’ll take that over drinks at the bar any day.
The challenge is when I do truly want to spend time outside of routine and have to sacrifice time with myself. My body becomes stuck in a knot of anxiety, just waiting to burst at the seams. If I am “on” for 6 days straight, I overheat and it all comes tumbling down on day 7.
Two weeks ago, I was triggered when I got a paper cup after I asked for a ceramic mug at Starbucks. My boyfriend was my only witness and it’s a miracle he’s still around.
I know I can’t be the only type A, perfectionist fool who experiences the weekend blues like this. I just haven’t met anyone who has discussed it openly before.
So if you can relate, even a little bit, let me know if you’ve found a way out of this weekly cycle. And for those who think I hate you, I don’t, sometimes I just need to sacrifice our time together to keep myself together.