Following a beyond fabulous weekend of drinking in excess, dancing and barbecuing with my family; completely unplanned food and a general nonchalance of no fucks being given, I subsequently am finding myself on a Monday morning swamped by crippling depression and a habitual inability to drag myself from my bed. The saying ‘two steps forward three steps back’ bears far too much correspondence at present and I long for the freedom I felt previously both pre-eating disorder and at the weekend.
It was whilst dwelling in amidst my extreme self pity that my thoughts wandered over the fact it was Monday, and ante meridiem - when has anyone enjoyed a Monday.
It seems there’s a global agreement that Monday mornings are by no kinder way of putting it, shit.
Why? I guess, and I can only gather my assumptions on this as, as far as I am aware, there is no scientific explanation, is that a combination of a horrendous feeling of dread of the forthcoming working week, the come down from a care free fabulous weekend and the simple fact you probably had a few late nights and it’s early and you have very recently woken up.
As utterly, mind-numbingly horrendous Mondays are; if we were to live everyday as a weekend we would find something else to hate. We would no longer relish days spend doing nothing and long for the hustle and bustle of a morning spent on the tube or commuting towards the beginning of a hectic 5 days spent going through endless paperwork.
Now sitting on a train, heading towards Brighton whilst relishing my day off spent with a beautiful friend, I’m fully aware of the work I should be doing and the impending days work tomorrow.
I have decided to try and endure this feeling and enjoy the time I have off as opposed to spending it dreading a Monday.
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