I’m mourning a holiday I barely even celebrate.
The long(er) weekend has seemingly served as a gradual onramp for my anxieties.
Did I do enough over the holiday? Did I rest enough? Am I well rested? Am I ever well rested?
Who sets these mythical benchmarks from which I’m calibrating my behavior?
Me, of course.
But learned as performed by others that I — subconsciously or not, proxied by my willingness to admit their influence — have dedicated at least 60% of my attention to as I slouch on my sofa with, at minimum, one other screen on my person.
Sad, (maybe, probably… definitely) stupid. But, true.
Sunday scaries are a public health hazard.
Tell a friend they’re doing okay.