Oh, Sunday night. Here we are again. Another week, another anxious feeling.
Monday looming in the not so distant future.
This week will be a tough one, I won’t lie. Everyone home, a holiday week, an alternate schedule.
The need to write is urgent and immediate…like, if I don’t get it out, I won’t feel okay about the day ending. About Sunday turning into Monday.
You know how I feel about Mondays. I don’t inherently hate them.
There’s a lot of good about a Monday. My oldest being back in school, a busy day with appointments and most importantly, ending with my own 2 hours of therapy to cap off the night.
But this one? This Sunday night?
It’s filled with more anxiety than most.
I don’t like change. I don’t like….okay, I’ll say it. I’m terrified for the chaos that this week will bring. My kids will all be home. My kids who are becoming more and more difficult as the days go on. Medically complex, and even more so emotionally complex. And absolutely none of us neurotypical.
THAT, I can say with complete confidence.
Sunday, you’re usually nothing I fear. We’ve gotten to know each other well, and I’ve learned not to fear you. With Monday comes routine. Comes MY schedule. My husband is back at work, I take charge, and it all falls on my shoulders.
Both a burden and a…relief, in its own right.
Sundays…I’ve trained myself not to fear you.
But oh, this week feels like a different beast.
So much on my mind, so much on my heart.
It’s a Sunday night at its core.
But for some reason?
It just feels like oh SO much more.
Please, Monday…be good to me.
Because this one? This one, I’m afraid of.