Sundays have always been my least favorite day of the weekend. Think about it for a minute. First you have Friday, a day filled with work but also burgeoning with the promise of rest, celebration, and done-ness. Fridays are made for the closing of laptops, the cracking of beer cans, and the opening of pizza boxes. Friday nights are incomparable, even if they’re lazy and filled with endless pajama lounging and Netflix binging.
Then there’s Saturday. Nothing beats waking up on a Saturday morning: It’s absolutely intoxicating. The harried week is finally done, the agenda is a little less full, and the entire rest of the weekend lays stretched before you, brimming with promise and possibility. Filled with smooth coffee, luxurious Target runs, and unapologetic couch time, Saturdays are glorious, sacred, and deliciously infinite.
And then there’s Sunday. Still respectable by merit of being classified as a weekend day, Sunday is a little less shimmery, a bit less shiny, and a smidge less brimming with possibility than its Friday and Saturday counterparts. For while Saturdays are bookended by Fridays and Sundays, Sundays are bookended by Saturdays and, well… Mondays. And because it’s a known fact that only serial killers and retired people enjoy Mondays, Sunday’s proximity to the start of the workweek makes it a little less desirable than its other weekend compadres.
But let’s not give Sunday a bad rap now: The day’s potential for magic and possibility all lies in how you choose to approach it. Treat Sunday as an inevitable predecessor to the workweek, a day filled with chores, to-do lists, and hoop jumping? Then it’s almost guaranteed to be sour and unenjoyable. But view Sunday as Saturday’s mature older sibling, a bonus weekend day filled with ample rest, relaxation, and fun? Well, then you’ve not only bought yourself more time, but you’ve also completely reframed your perspective and reworked the game.
I’ve always viewed Sunday as a chore day. Whether it was completing homework or grading papers in my earlier years or running errands and doing laundry in my more immediate reality, I’ve always treated Sunday as the “oh, shit: I still need to do x, y, and z!” day. And, while I still actually need to do x, y, and z (whatever they may be), I’ve started to realize that it isn’t healthy to approach things with this kind of ferocity and let so much ride on one single day of the week. It isn’t fair, it isn’t productive, and it’s just not fruitful.
So, what if I reimagine Sunday not as another day to race towards some imaginary finish line but instead to relax, be still, and invest in my own self-care and recovery? What might be possible – what might I unlock – if I reframe my weekends this way?
Last Sunday I elected to do just that. Instead of waking up, hitting “play” on the coffee, and immediately going through my mental to-do list, I made the conscious decision to wake up, hit “play” on the coffee[1], and snuggle up with Cam and Fitz on the couch. Indeed, instead of jumpstarting my day with a grocery list and fresh load of laundry I refreshed my spirit by building a puzzle, reading the newspaper, and enjoying the sunshine in an intentional, present, and decidedly unhurried way. Unlike my usual routine, I didn’t immediately make peanut butter toast so I could start the countdown to my workout two hours later, but instead I sipped my java, enjoyed the beautiful stillness of the morning, and eventually elected to lose myself in cooking an involved, out of the ordinary (for us, at least) breakfast of fresh pancakes and homemade granola. Spurred by craving and curiosity, I casually sifted through one of my favorite cookbooks and landed on a recipe that sounded delicious and challenged me to invest time and energy in a very different way than I typically would on a Sunday morning.
Instead of prepping, fretting, and scurrying about, I sifted, mixed, and flipped homemade pancakes until I achieved my own taste of clarity and calm. And when I finally looked at the time and realized it was nearly two o’clock in the afternoon, I didn’t let myself panic about how little weekend runway was left; instead, I delighted in the unusual feeling of peace I had intentionally created for myself and reveled in the glorious hours of day that still stretched out before me.
Maybe it sounds simple. Perhaps even foolish. Maybe Sundays are already sacred for you and filled with rest, relaxation, and peace. If so, that’s great: Applaud yourself for the self-care you’re practicing and reflect on how you might go even deeper with this practice. But, if you’re anything like me, then maybe this is a novel if not revolutionary idea that is as simultaneously simple and difficult as it is imperative and nonnegotiable. Maybe, just maybe, you too need to slow down, actually sip your damn coffee[2], and rethink your Sundays as an opportunity not to do what you think you need to do but actually do what you need to do.
Maybe you too need to build a puzzle, whip up some pancakes from scratch, and give yourself permission to stop doing and start being.
[1] After all, I’m not a savage: I need my coffee, come hell or high water!
[2] Instead of chug it down and cling to it for dear life.
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