Her stomach was aching and she had butterflies all day. She could barely control her breathing and her heart was pounding rapidly. Rachel rolled over and slowly began to open her eyes as she awoke Sunday morning, almost afternoon. Physically she couldn’t bring herself to get up and out of bed. Her stomach was in knots and her head was spinning. The daunting fear of the weekend coming to an end and the thought of returning to work the next day frightened her.

After about an hour or so of tossing around in bed Rachel finally got out of bed. With very minimal motivation to do anything she gathered barely enough energy to wash her face and brush her teeth. After completing a few tasks in her morning routine, the basic necessities to take care of herself, she quickly got back into bed and laid there for a couple of hours scrolling through all of her social media apps.

Her eyes began to burn and turn bloodshot red from the bright electronic screen. So she decided to put her phone down and write a letter. 

Dear my Sunday Scaries and Anxiety,

How are you? I’ll tell you how I am. I’m not fine. There I finally said it. Every time people come up to me and utter the words “how are you” it takes everything within me to convincingly say, “I’m good. How are you.” Because in reality you make me not fine. You cause me to struggle with breathing. Breathing. Such a simple but intricate and complicated process for me. Something the littlest of toddlers can do without thinking twice I suddenly can’t do when Sunday rolls around. No matter how hard I try, breathing becomes more and more painful. My breath is escaping me and no matter how hard I attempt to chase it back down it I still can’t reach it. You’re the reason my leg continuously bounces. Up and down. Shaking. I can’t get myself to sit still. You’re the reason I can’t stop fidgeting with my fingers or stop cracking my knuckles. You make me feel dizzy. I hate you. Truly. My day of relaxation has turned into a day of agony and fright. My mind is so fixated on Monday and the stress she induces. Saturday was so good to me; now that the weekend is over I have to return to the disastrous and real world Monday holds. God I despise Monday. And Sunday. 



Photo Credit: mercycare.org