It’s just another (not-so-manic) Monday. I know our society loves to hate Mondays, but I like them. (Yes, I liked them even when I was working.) It’s the start of a new week. Businesses are open, people are scurrying to and fro, and there’s just a general feeling of being a part of a collective consciousness.
If I could delete one day, it would hands-down be Sunday. There’s a lazy, hung-over vibe that spreads an aura of depression over all five feet of me. Although Sunday is technically Day One of a new week (according to our calendars) it feels like a pile of leftover crumbs that I want to sweep up and dump in the garbage can.
Maybe it’s because I’m prone to anxiety and depression. Sigh. I grimace at how often those two words escape my lips or bleed from pen to journal page. But it would be irresponsible of me to ignore this reality. It’s a reality that requires my attention. It’s a reality I won’t let rule my life.
I know as well as you do that everybody goes through shit. Friends betray us, loved ones die, or our bodies don’t work like they’re supposed to. Watch even three minutes of the news and you’ll no doubt want to bury your head in the sheets and wish for a long and dreamless sleep. To put it simply, life fucking sucks sometimes.
I mean, right? Is it just me?
Regardless, we can’t let the shit win.
When I’m out and about I like to glance at passersby. Where are they going? What are they worried about today? Why did they choose to wear that jacket, that flourish of eye makeup, that hipster hat? The only answer I have is that those people chose to show up. They could have stayed home. They could have locked the doors, hid in bed, and refused to participate in the human experience. But here they are: alive, moving, and ready to give it another shot.
And that’s what I tell myself when those Sunday Blues show up (even on a Tuesday). Sure, everybody needs those times of respite–in fact, enjoy them often, I say–but society can’t exist without us. No matter what you offer, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem, you matter.
So let’s make a pact to get out there, especially when it feels impossible. Smile at the postman. Tell your barista you like her hairstyle. Wave in the person on the road who clearly ignored the sixteen signs exclaiming the lane was about to end. Because maybe today’s been rough. Maybe they’re just about making it and can use a bit of grace, even from a stranger.
Thanks for being here.