Sunday Night Blues

I've picked up on a recurring theme these past few months. I get antsy and depressed on Sundays. Always. It's like I'm okay all throughout the week. I mean, I'm a little down and out, but I can be up and peppy too.

But when Sunday hits....BAM! You better watch out little iPod. Cause you're gonna get put to a lot of use as I blast my angry-sad-empowered-strong-yet-vulnerable girl music while driving. A LOT. It's like the only way I can make myself "happy" on Sundays is to drift away into an imaginary world where I'm a way cool rock chick with a devil may care attitude and a smokin' body. And awesome pipes, of course, to compliment my way cool rock chick persona.

And you know, that's never gonna happen, but that scenario keeps playing out in my head. And you know what else I've noticed? A lot of times I'm singing really pissy music at my ex-boyfriends, so that probably means I am a psychiatrist GOLD MINE with all the unresolved issues floating around in this jumbled mess. But I digress.

So this Sunday sadness bothers me. Sunday nights used to be a HUGE problem for me when I was a kid. I would get so nervous and scared and sad about school on Monday mornings, that I lay awake at night going through all of the horrible things that could happen at school the next day. Which is funny because as I look back on it, the horrible things I was imagining were things like getting a B or getting called on in class and not knowing the answer or a pop quiz. Which...wow. That is majorly lame. But, such was my drama as a child. I was an ugly nerd, so I couldn't have real problems with friends or boys or something.

And I hated me then. I hated being me. Cora was just a horrible, miserable person then. And I feel like I am regressing back to that insecure little girl. I am still 12 in my mind's eye. So I have replaced the teachers with bosses and classmates with co-workers. I feel so much pressure and stress at work that it's affecting how I live. And I HATE that. I hate this constant consuming fear. And I know I've whined about my life-eating job on here before, but this is something bigger than that. It's a deepseated fear and resentment I have of myself. Of who I am. Of what my life has become. Of how my priorities are now 1) Don't get yelled at at work. 2) Try to get some sleep. 3) You don't have time for anything else. It's wrong. It's painful. It makes me dread Monday mornings and long for the numbness of death.