Sunday Night Anxiety

It is 10:30PM on Sunday night. Ruby is put to bed, Derek is playing XBOX, and I am laying in bed staring at the ceiling thinking about horrible* things. I toss, I turn, my heart races, I shoot out of bed,  I get up I pace the floor, I go to the bathroom, I get some water, I go back to bed, and then -repeat 3X + I search for the Golden Girls on television-. It is 12:30AM now, Monday morning and I am thinking, "I am so fucked." Sunday night anxiety has hit me, again.

This plays itself out almost every Sunday night. I say "almost" because if I am buzzed/tipsy, I fall asleep just fine. So the answer is drink more on Sundays right? Well, unfortunately we all know that is not the "right" answer. So Xanax right? Xanax is the answer. Well, unfortunately I don't like that answer. To be pill dependent is just sad to me (although I do enjoy my "mommy's little helpers".) And yes booze and pills would help with the Sunday night anxiety I am still left wondering, "What the hell is wrong with me?"

I know I am not alone in this. Many of the people I have spoken to casually about Sunday night anxiety say "Me too!" or "Ugh, Sunday nights I am a crazy person." or "Sundays are the worse." It is probably because we are all thinking about the work week ahead. And our dread that we had as a kid about going to school has turned into neurotic obsessing to the point of anxiety attacks about going back to work. The dread of the week cause a snow ball effect and I start thinking about *horrible things like: death, dying - myself and loved ones, being forgotten, growing old, going insane.

I "star" the word horrible because horrible is relative, and really my irrational fears about whatever are nothing compared to people suffering real horrors in their lives. Maybe I should start thinking about how terrible other people have it to put things in perspective. No. That probably still isn't as comforting as Xanax and the Golden Girls.

Someone call the looney bin. I am ready.