As I sat bleary-eyed and tired at work this afternoon, I wondered what it is about Mondays that are so difficult. Why do Mondays carry this mythical reputation of being such a downer?
It’s obvious that Monday is the first working day of the week, but that by itself shouldn’t be enough to cause such aggravation every Monday morning, and if the week didn’t start on Monday ~ it would on another day.
Besides, I have only fit into any sort of normal Mon-Fri routine since quitting my job with AT&T in February. The balancing act of work and school rarely add up to a set schedule.
So the question remains: why am I always so mentally off on Monday? I don’t think as clearly, I don’t have the energy I usually do, I don’t multi-task well and I think about my bed all day long.
All these Monday questions got me thinking about my past and the role that Mondays have played in my life before today.
Seven years ago, I was invested in a serious relationship. We had been together longer than three years and marriage seemed imminent. He was my first real romance and I was a young hairstylist.
It was a very bad Monday ~ everything fell apart. I drove to my boyfriend’s house looking for a shoulder to cry on. As tears streamed down my face and words escaped my lips I suddenly stopped. His attention was directed towards the television ~ not on me.
Two weeks later I moved across the US to live in a town where I knew one person I had met one time through a mutual friend. I realized how strong I am, and I have never forgotten it.
Five years ago on a rainy day, my fiance and I snuggled closely on our couch as we watched Troy. We had been engaged for over nine months and had known each other twice that long. I thought he was my soul-mate, but something was wrong. I could not name it, but it lingered in the air ~ a wrapped secret.
As we watched the movie, young and in-love Paris tells beautiful Helen that he will fight her husband for her hand. This victory would surely halt the coming war. She smiles before sweetly saying, “You are young my love.”
In that very moment I understood. We were too young, too young to be what we wanted to be, and we would fail. Two weeks later, I told him that I could not be his bride. We laid in bed and held each other crying, until we could cry no more. He was supposed to have worked the day we watched Troy.
Four years ago I was having a breakdown. I couldn’t understand why I was so unhappy. I had everything: a reliable car, a beautiful apartment, I was in school, I had a good job, and I had great friends ~ but still, that wasn’t enough and it didn’t make sense.
After returning from the gym that Monday night I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I was becoming someone I didn’t want to be. Within a half hour I decided to go to Spain, get my ESL license and work while I traveled.
Spain turned into Costa Rica and two months later, I left. My time spent traveling and living in Costa Rica changed my life completely.
When I came back, my father looked at me and said I had left as a girl and returned as a woman. I knew that inside ~ everything had changed.
Three years ago I left to move to Panama. I was madly in love and sure that I wouldn’t return. I had sold all my large belongings and stored the rest in a section of a friend’s dry basement.
My plane left on a Monday morning for Panama, and returned to NC five months later on a Monday night.
My father hugged me tightly as I tried to smoke a cigarette. I couldn’t believe I was back on US soil. Right before I left, I had almost been killed. I remember looking at the cement blue walls and tile floor as I wondered if I would ever see my family again.
That was an especially good Monday. The boy and the cigarettes, I left later.
About a year and a half ago I was sitting in a computer class at my previous college. It was my last semester and I knew where I was transferring.
I was bored and playing online. I don’t even remember how it happened or what I was looking at, but I found UNC Chapel Hill’s School of Journalism and Mass Communication. It is the number one journalism school in the nation and even resided in-state.
My mouth dropped closer and closer to the ground as I read about the program. I wanted to be there ~ I had to be there. I had two weeks to apply.
There had never been anything I wanted so badly in my life. It took two months to hear back. I was accepted. I had been planning on skipping class that day (since it was Monday) ~ what if I had?
So maybe Mondays aren’t so bad, because when I examine my life, I realize that Mondays have brought significant change ~ and I am thankful.
All in all, I just think it’s time for another huge decision in my life 😉
What are Mondays to you? Do you know the real reasoning behind your loathing of Mondays? Or do you look forward to them?