When I shared a flat with friends we used to put a tea towel over the clock on Sunday evenings. The logic behind it was “what we don’t know can’t hurt us” and was driven by the intense fear that would start creeping in as soon as 4.45pm precisely hit.
4.45pm on a working weekday was filled with possibility. 4.45pm on a Friday was akin to winning the Lotto. On a Saturday it had the promise of the divine or the debauched and was still buoyed by hope and optimism. But 4.45pm on a Sunday was the beginning of the end. The descent into oblivion. We would crawl out from under our blankets on the couch and give the clock a little blanket of its own so it couldn’t judge us or alert us when it hit 9pm, aka the Sunday witching hour.
The psychology in relation to Sunday fear points towards several contributing factors: anxiety about tasks the Friday version of you decided could be put off until Monday, mourning the loss of the carefree weekend you were so excited about just 48 hours previously, feeling trapped in a job or routine that perpetuates the Sunday scaries, and the tendency to be less social on a Sunday, or at least save for “obligatory” social events or duties to carry out – visiting relatives or graveyards, dragging kids around a garden centre etc.
When I was growing up Sundays in our house meant a trip to Mass, the smell of the floors being mopped in anticipation of the week ahead, and a roast dinner. As soon as the last bit of Viennetta was scraped out of the bowl – typically about 4.45pm – everything would start to turn and before you knew it Miley was trying to lob the gob on Fidelma beside the hay bales.
I never thought I would get over my Sunday fear. It followed me into adulthood and was particularly bad when I worked the antisocial hours of a radio newsreader. Starting work at 6am on a Monday meant the dread took hold even earlier on a Sunday. Working weekends with Tuesdays and Wednesdays as my “weekend” just shifted the fear to a different day, although it was never quite as bad as that collective gloom that can descend on the world as the actual weekend draws to a close. I hated Sundays. But I don’t anymore.
Biggest change
The biggest change was taking the fear out of Monday. This is relatively easy these days because I'm self-employed and can set my own schedule most of the time. My first standing appointment every Monday isn't until noon, which gives me time to prepare that morning rather than quaking around on a Sunday night with one eye on whatever anxiety-driven gangland crime hellscape RTÉ are offering up and the other on whatever the adult version of homework is.
Spending Sunday hungover watching 14 episodes of The Walking Dead would send the cheeriest of people into Boots with a diazepam prescription
I can already feel you rolling your eyes and saying “Well isn’t it well for her with her Monday mornings off?” and I can assure you that I check that damn privilege every single Sunday evening. Easing into Monday isn’t an option for a lot of people and with the “return to the office” as pandemic restrictions ease I suspect that the Sunday scaries are back and they’re bigger than ever. So, what can you do to minimise them?
Make Monday mornings as easy as possible. If working from home is an option for you at least some of the week consider doing it on a Monday to mitigate commuting stress or getting out the door on time. Avoid dread-filled first-thing meetings at all costs. If you’re the person in charge of scheduling meetings have a little humanity for the love of God.
Prep for Monday as much as possible on a Friday evening or Saturday morning, when you’re in a good mood. Get clothes ready, think about food, wash lunchboxes, don’t leave scary emails unopened or unanswered mocking you from inside your computer or phone. Make getting homework done first thing on a Saturday part of your kids’ routine. Think of it as putting on clean sheets before you go on holiday so you’re coming back to a little bit of comfort.
Sunday fear isn’t all about work. It’s also about how you choose to fill the day. Spending it hungover watching 14 episodes of The Walking Dead would send the cheeriest of people into Boots with a diazepam prescription, or at the very least a desperate plea for a bottle of Rescue Remedy.
Organise a gentle games evening. Go out for dinner. Book the cinema or rent something lovely from iTunes or YouTube. Get a takeaway. Start a task you've been putting off until Monday. Switch that awkward relative visit to a Saturday or invite a favourite relative over at 6pm so you're not banking up time in the evening to anxiously vibrate on the couch, tea towel at the ready.
Always keep a tea towel ready though, just in case.