That Monday feeling can be healthy
This morning I woke feeling a little resentful that it was Monday. Reflecting while making a morning brew, I realised this is a good thing for me.
The feeling isn’t anything as strong as dread. It’s more like a petulant toddler pouting and saying “I don’t want to” or “it’s not fair”. My inner child resents being sent back to work today.
She wants to continue hanging out with the kids, walking the dog, reading her books, planning for Christmas, and playing around on Figma.
It has been a while since I felt this way.
For a long time Monday hasn’t been a return to work — because I hadn’t really left it on a Friday. Even if I turned my emails and Slack notifications off, my work has been so intense that my brain never fully disconnected. I’d wake in the middle of the night with a new approach to something I’d been struggling with, and capture it on the notepad by my bed. When I was with the kids at breakfast or dinner I’d only be half-listening to them because I noodling on a work challenge. I found — allowed — my work to be all-consuming.
Fortunately I’ve had a proper break from work. It was a weird experience — the longest I’ve been unoccupied with work for two decades. I felt restless. I got really, really bored. The passage of time in my days seemed painfully slow. Eventually I adjusted to the new pace, and became once more someone who works to live, instead of living to work.
I don’t know how long this will last. I’ve always been the type to overinvest myself in my work — there’s so much to learn, so many challenges to puzzle over. And I’m a deeply committed public servant (irrespective of my employment status) so I’ll always find it hard not to give too much of myself.
But I do know that every Monday I wake up wanting my weekend to continue, resenting the forced attention switching, is a win. Because that means my attention was where it should have been over the weekend. On living.