The Feeling of a Sunday

As I rounded out my jog this past Sunday it struck me that it was indeed, Sunday.  When I was at my miserable cubicle job I would have never jogged on a Sunday afternoon, because Sundays meant stress, and being too overwhelmed with the doom of the week to come to enjoy time outdoors or a jog.  It meant groceries and cleaning and laundry.  Weekends always felt like a sprint to accomplish what I couldn’t get done during the week and were never relaxing.  While I still struggle to balance relaxing with working and family time, it’s just not the same as the mandatory, rigid schedule and structure I was in before.

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It’s clear to me now that some people are just not good employees.  I was never meant for a cubicle, never meant to put up with bullshitting superiors and stupid rules.  I was meant to be the captain of my own ship, to work with people and share my gifts and talents.  I write a lot about leaving my job because it is one of the scariest things I’ve ever done.  I never thought it was possible.  Leaving my job forced me to be honest with who I am, and it changed forever the feeling of each day of the week, including Sundays.

And this past Sunday had a different feeling for lots of other people, those federal employees who were furloughed and the many private sector employees whose job depended on the government being open.  For many this Sunday meant anxiety.  How would they fill their time this week?  What would they do?  Would they enjoy a few lazy days?  Knock a few things off the fall to-do list?  They probably wondered how long this would last, and if they would receive back pay.  Some people are wondering how they’re going to pay their bills, or put food on the table for their families.  Some are going stir-crazy with the lack of socialization we desperately need as human beings.  For some, as they think ahead about the lonely week and fret about money, Sunday is a very bad day.