Do you suffer from Sunday Doom Syndrome?
Monday is not just any day of the week. It’s the chunky book cover that is peeled back to reveal the rest of your seven-day story. It kicks off the intentions you have for your time and energy, spring boarding you into the future. Monday is a cyclical, defining feature in the landscape of time that ticks and tocks, endlessly narrating a prologue of the working week.
Where do you find yourself on a Monday? Or, better question: how do you feel on Sunday night?
Most people respond with dread or indifference. Do you experience that nauseous, clawing, stressy feeling that approaches from 4pm onwards on Sunday afternoon, peaking just before bed? Do you experience a sense of desperation and wanting to claw back the clock when your alarm goes off Monday morning? Do you seriously consider calling in sick, making yourself sick or faking your own death to avoid Monday Morning?
If so, you might have Sunday Doom Syndrome (SDS).
SDS impacts 99% of humans on earth. It is an epidemic of boredom, desperation and stress that is brought on by proximity to a pointless job. The symptoms range in intensity and frequency depending on how stressful and crappy the job is. If, like I once did, you find yourself with SDS it is time to self-medicate and sort yourself out.
So let me tell you a story about Mondays and what the healing process of a recovering SDS sufferer might look like.
The first Monday.
My alarm goes off at 6 am. I shudder and pull the covers up around my head willing myself out of existence. The second alarm goes off and my stomach slowly creeps up my throat, where it will sit stewing and expanding for another three hours. The third alarm goes off and I now feel sick. SDS has kicked up a notch into full-blown Monday Mania. My feet hit the cold floor with the reluctance of an inmate, and I fumble in the dark for my work clothes (which is just like wearing an inmate’s uniform by the way, except that my cell is a cubicle). I exit the house, cursing all those still asleep inside and drag myself to the station. Suddenly, hundreds of feet stamp all over mine, bags push me in the face, my nose is dripping and I can’t even reach my tissues. Great. Like a helpless fish in a net I squeeze my way on and off two trains on my commute and grind my teeth through the whole experience. I check my watch, I’m early! This is good for two reasons, one I won’t get a public telling off from my manager and two I have time to swallow my stomach and shed a few tears in the bathroom before I go to my desk.
My manager sits opposite me and tirelessly berates my appearance, belittles my abilities and discounts my contribution. Sometimes I am not even allowed to sit down at my desk — I must stand up until I make a sale. If the light on the giant screen beside my name isn’t green it means I’m not on the phone, which is bad news. I find myself back in the bathroom. My manager also thinks I have a weak bladder and likes to tell everyone. But, it’s normally just to have another cry and makeup-applying session. Or, I am dodging an anxiety attack, scheming a broken leg with either a car accident or the stairs, or calling my twin sister to ask whether I could go to prison if I set off the fire alarm. I longingly check my watch again. 10.00 am. I hate being an adult.
The Second Monday.
My alarm goes off at 6.30. I pull back the covers and look out of my window in Central London to the sun creeping over the skyline. The room in my flat is small but it is mega cheap since I am a property guardian. I’ve yet to put up curtains and next-door had another party which meant I wasn’t asleep until 2 am. Highs and lows. I put on my shoes regardless and jog to the gym where I sweat it out for an hour, planning my day how I want. Home to shower, throw on whatever I feel comfortable in and blend a shake before grabbing my bike. Fumes, bustling city and traffic, but just one minute to my favourite coffee shop. I congratulate myself because the best table is free and the guy at the counter knows my order. I check my watch, I’m early! This is good for two reasons, one I can get a whole hour of work done before anyone from the team comes online (since I have about three people’s worth of work to do) and two, the whole team is finishing early because we’re having ‘team fun’ (aka cocktails and an escape room).
I log on to Slack and update my team — ‘WFC AM’ (work from coffee shop this morning). I’ve a big project on that makes my stomach crawl up into my throat and I don’t think I have the resources to complete it. However, the person who is supporting me is talented and cares. The people I am supporting are also talented and care. I am stretched and challenged, frustrated and afraid. But more alive and rewarded than I’ve felt in a while. I can do this. I check my watch again, wow midday already! Time to cycle 8 minutes into the office. This is more like it.
The Third Monday.
My alarm goes off at 7.30. This number changes depending on how I feel the night before. Nowadays, I’m not even sure whether it is Monday or some other day. This is because I no longer have a 9–5. In fact, I’m no longer even in the city where the 9–5's tend to converge. My feet hit the floor of a new (gorgeous) bedroom every few weeks and the novelty is thrilling. I pull on my gym kit and go to let out the animals I am looking after (generally dogs) into a huge garden and watch them race around. Love and cuddles quickly follow and I’ve not even had a cup of coffee yet. I pinch myself. I pull on my shoes and take the dog(s) for a walk in the countryside, savouring the fresh air and discussing with my partner what our priorities are for the day. This varies between going to the gym, exploring a nearby castle, starting a project, finishing a blog post, working with a coaching client or WFH (work from housesit) on a 2-day-a-week project I enjoy, with a brand I care about.
I make an effort to not always be online. To savour and protect my time. To say yes to the things that truly bring me joy and make space for learning and growth. To savour the outdoors. To feel gratitude for not having to ‘check in’ or be anywhere I don’t want to be. Each housesit is different and my partner and I make time to take trips, go for long hikes and spend time together in nature. I check my watch, not because I care what time it is but more because I am trying to get at least 15,000 steps a day (and my Fitbit is also my watch). This is good for two reasons:
- My work and life are finally balanced (perhaps even tilted slightly more towards life).
- I still love to work.
I am earning less than I have since I was 20, but I am saving more than I did on 40k in the City. I have no rent to pay and even have a car. I see more of my family than I ever have and am learning more about myself in the process. It is a new pace of life but no less ambitious. Instead of achieving one big goal for one company I am 100% invested in, I am achieving many goals, am invested in several projects, plus my own and they’re all self directed. I am still relying on my ability to ‘get shit done’, my work ethic and tenacity, just as I always did but this time on my own terms. I am trying something new; taking a risk on making something of myself, for myself. It sounds radical because it sits outside the norm. Outside the 9 to 5. But is a 9–5 even normal in the first place? Looking back at my days chained to a desk, worrying my Sundays away or burning out in a startup, and I am not so sure.
Don’t get me wrong, I am still working. In fact I am working even harder in some ways now because I don’t have a cushy pay-check at the end of every month. I don’t have a clear strategy, end-of-year goals or team supporting me. I don’t have a house to live in permanently and I am not even sure I’ll be in the UK at the end of next month. I constantly worry about whether I am good enough to make this work and imposter Mel shows up to waggle her finger around way more times than she ever did before.
So, is it worth it? YES. Oh my God, yes. SDS is a thing of the past, but I remember it vividly enough to know that it is real and debilitating and still affects so many people.
Six years ago, at the start of my career I was terrified of handing in my notice to a boss who’d called me an air-head bimbo and made me believe it. But, I was even more scared that ‘this was it’, that ‘this is was good as it was going to get’ and I was doomed for the next 50 years. I though part-time work was for losers, people who ‘couldn’t hack it’ in the real world and, worse still, that maybe I was one of those people who just couldn’t hack it. I was angry and heartbroken that I’d believed all the lies of becoming a working adult and was fearful of letting down my parents. The nice suits I got to wear were stifling and were made to please the men. The salary I earned was not worth the time I spent in the office and every second that drained from the clock felt like a betrayal. My own betrayal of my own dreams and my own potential.
But, I didn’t settle and neither should you. I am writing to you, from a sun-trap patio in the countryside, to tell you there IS so much more waiting for you and that you deserve better. My Monday might not be your ideal Monday but if you don’t make time to figure out what that is you’ll never wake up there. We’re halfway through 2018 now! You are the only thing keeping you in your stressful job and waking up in your shitty Monday, suffering through SDS and ignoring your symptoms. Neither your mortgage, or your partner, or your career path, nor your tenure or shares is the problem here, nope. It’s you.
The worst and best part? You’re the only person who is waking up in your Monday. It might suck now yes, but you’re also the only one with the power to change it. You have to start somewhere. So, why not start today? Then one day soon (sooner than if you started tomorrow) you’ll be living differently and you’ll thank yourself for it.
So pick paint a picture of your ideal Monday, then go work for it.
Thanks to the Summer Solstice for inspiring us to check back in on our lives. If you enjoyed it, please clap and share or send to a friend who has chronic SDS.
I wrote this sitting in Hungerford at our second housesit of the summer thanks to Trustedhousesitters.com, see more of our adventures here. I used to work at Escape the City who taught me that work IS fun, people are amazing and everyone deserves to do what they love. I love and live with Matt Trinetti who constantly questions life and the universe and has inspired me to do the same. I now work with Inkpact two days a week managing their Scribe Tribe community with these lovely people. If you’d like to chat about your mornings and what to do about them, you can also come find me on my site Two Year Career where I talk about doing great work for less time. I also am a coach and can help you kick your own butt into gear.
