Sunday malaise belies the truth of our lives
If you are reading this after lunch it may have already begun. The first symptom is a subtle wave of gloom spreading across your day. What’s causing it? It’s not the weather—it’s finally nicer. No, the start of “Sunday Night Feeling ” is a combination of agitation and malaise, not quite depression, but a kind of dismay.
You are not alone, and it’s not new.
There is historic precedent for this Sunday melancholy. In medieval times Sunday was a holy day with pageants, and public feasts, and no work. But with the Reformation, Luther knocked the fun out of Sunday; there was still no work, but holiness became a kind of labor. Protestantism made Sunday a full day of worship and study.
The English settlers brought that custom to our shores. In 1610, in Virginia, all you could do on Sunday was go to church and study the catechism. It was the law; the penalty for a first offense was loss of a week’s food; for the second, whipping; and, for the third, death. We may have lightened up over time but the Sunday “blue laws” – named for the blue paper they were written on – are not totally gone from our consciousness. Every Sunday somewhere in the United Sates it’s still illegal to barber, bowl, play bingo, billiards or cards, gamble or to sell alcohol or cars.
The biggest ingredient in this Sunday night feeling is regret. Once again, the weekend didn’t live up to our expectations. All week we had been looking forward to the weekend, but what we encountered is a collision of two American values: freedom and work.
We keep thinking that we can work our way to freedom, but this Sunday malaise belies the truth. On Sunday night we brace for a frenzied rollercoaster ride. Monday morning we’ll pull out of the station; the cable will engage — chug-a-chug-a-chug — and up we go. Tomorrow morning we’ll crest the hill and crash into the week’s wild ride: committees, decisions, difficult people, office politics. For the next five
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days the only choice you have is style: You can close your eyes and grip the bar in terror or throw your arms up and laugh. There are wild swings and sharp corners, and that last whipping curve feels like a surprise each time. And then, on Friday afternoon, it slows again…chug-a-chug-achug…Freedom!
Then suddenly it’s Sunday again and it feels way too soon to be back on that ride. No wonder people are drinking, fighting and bingeing TV. At four o’clock on Sunday, when the anxiety about the upcoming week starts to gnaw, we want off this ride.
But the credit card bills and the news about the economy are the bar that presses us back into our seats. Even people who like their jobs feel this.
And now, post-pandemic, more people are walking away. It’s not all in your head. Monday is dreadful: Monday is the busiest day in hospital emergency rooms, and, most distressing, of all seven days of the week, Monday has the highest rate of suicide.
Two years ago, COVID arrived and both our work and the shape of the week changed. Working remotely and using newer technologies showed us that work could be different. The Great Resignation is a collective “Uncle!”
Will these gifts of COVID change us? Will more remote work and greater flexibility make a difference? Maybe. And maybe we can do this differently. Maybe we could wind down on Sunday night instead of gearing up. Maybe we can go more gently into this good week.
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