I get the Monday Blues every winter. The subarctic winter is long and hopeless.
Some people work to live, some people live to work. I am the latter. So on weekends, I purposely block off time to study, do house chores, and spend time with my boys (one is human, one is a doggo).
Getting up on Monday after an eventful weekend is incredibly hard, especially when is dark out. My body is still in repair mode, and my mind receives no positive stimulation. It’s safe to say my magnetic field is at its weakest on Mondays. What a vicious circle.
Last Monday, I took doggo Henry for a quick walk before heading in the office, same as every morning. There aren’t many people on the street at that time. I typically enjoy the quietness, but not last Monday. A homeless person was roaming around, feeling high or something, as Henry and I walking pass him to our usual spot. He was annoyed by us I assumed, so he started spitting at our direction adamantly. I don’t think it was out of racism. When you tell a child not to do something, they will do just that thing to despite you. As coronavirus continues to live among us, any airborne transmission is discouraged. And I think that spitting homeless knew as well.
Needless to say, I was horrified by his action. I picked up Henry and ran, like a mad person. That night, I had, among other symptoms, a fever. Luckily, two days later I was confirmed COVID negative. A friend told me my symptoms could be triggered psychologically.
Even though Monday Blues might not have been scientifically approved. The struggle is real. So are depression and other emotional distress. Most of us refuse to admit, thinking it’s a sign of weakness. Instead of confronting it, we let the blues breed.
Since the lockdown, I have slowly but surely been consumed by social media. Most days, the content on my feed perks me up. I actually am grateful to have Instagram during those blurry days back in March and April. It was one of the fewer things got me excited about life. Seeing how hard other people were trying to keep a “normal“ routine, it made me feel part of something. We were all in this together.
Is there a magic pill we can take to get rid of the Monday sadness? If so, what would be the price we pay?