Sunday Dread

Lots of people have Sunday night dread. They live for the weekend and get stressed and depressed as the weekend runs out. Even when I’ve had jobs I didn’t enjoy, I always looked forward to Monday. It’s a fresh start, a new beginning, another shot at getting things right.

I’m not feeling that this evening. As much as I feel blessed to have landed in a role I enjoy with a company that is putting their people above all else, and with coworkers that I genuinely enjoy, I’m feeling some dread.

I’m dreading being pulled into two directions. Not fully focusing on work or my boys non-traditional instruction (NTI). And let me pause to say NTI is a full on understatement. I’m dreading what I anticipate this week to bring. I’m dreading more press conferences, more policy changes, more supply shortages, and more confirmed cases. More fatalities.

It feels like we’re on the precipice of very scary times. I’m worried for my friends who are in healthcare. I’m scared for my family and friends who are high risk. I’m concerned that people will give up on social distancing and stop too early. I’m worried about the economy and how long it will take to recover. I worry that this is just an initial wave and this will become a regular occurrence every few years.

I’m sure by tomorrow morning I’ll have a more positive outlook and I’ll be ready to tackle the world. But right now, I hope this night is long. I hope I can calm my anxieties and find peace in the quiet of the dark. I hope I can focus enough to pray, something I’m not that great at, but I’m trying to learn.

At least 90% of the time I’m hopeful, but even this glass-half-full girl occasionally allows a sip of fear to leak in.