The Weekend

No, not the critically acclaimed Canadian singer, songwriter, and producer. I’m talking about that blank space that happens between the chaotic days when your job is in charge.

This post is in honour of today, Wednesday. Classically portrayed enemy of the weekend.

You may or may not get a weekend. If you’ve played your cards right, you get a couple of days. If you’re lucky, you get them together. If you’re really lucky, you don’t have to live your life waiting for them.

I have days where I don’t want to go on doing what I’m doing. Everyone does. I’m trying to find a way to enjoy what I’m doing while I’m doing it so my weekend and my work week don’t feel like different entities entirely. So that I’m not dragging myself through work days just to get to the weekend.

The mistake I’ve made is to be constantly working. Yeah, this makes my weekend not feel different than my work week, but it sucks. I can’t turn it off now. It’s stressful and unhealthy and no one’s fault but my own. Really, I take full responsibility. No one has asked this of me.

I’ve gone as far as to finally seek therapy for it. I have a problem saying no, with setting boundaries, with feeling like I’m going to get in trouble for not getting everything done quickly, correctly and to the best of my ability. I didn’t realize this was the source of so much of my emotional distress until I sat down and started picking it apart.

And this doesn’t just apply to my job. I feel responsible for not being a slob at home, staying active, keeping plans, being a good friend and partner. I get really upset when I feel like I’m not doing a good job of balancing it all. Even thinking about it makes my throat ache and tears well up in my eyes.

Why am I like this? No idea. Just trying to figure that out. I’m also hell-bent on succeeding at that.

Hell-bent on. Hell Benton. Ha.

In the grand scheme of things, I feel pressure. I put in a lot of effort to not live up to the cliche that has been given to my generation (holla if you’re a millennial):

You can’t deny that we’ve received the short end of the stick as of late, as a number of less-than-flattering stereotypes follow us everywhere we go. Like what, you ask? Well, let’s start with how millennials are lazy and have no work ethic. Or how we’re vain, self-centered, and don’t value relationships, largely because we’re too busy valuing Instagram likes. (Bustle)

I’ve realized that by being a diligent, reliable, loyal and hardworking employee, friend and partner, I’m ironically daydreaming about a way out from a job that could give me a really happy, fulfilling life. I’m not trying to shift the blame here. I just feel like I’m trying so hard to prove this idea wrong, that I’m burning out.

I’ve considered flipping the bird to our one bedroom apartment, burning my furniture in some sort of pagan sacrificial ceremony (we’d really be burning my sanity), and camping out in my parents’ basement for the winter. There would be lots of ketchup pringles and sleeping involved. And my boyfriend would definitely not come with. The cat definitely would. 

But I can’t do that. Because it’s unhealthy and I’m trying to be an adult here. Also, I’m pretty attached to the boyfriend.

Anyway, if you’ve made it this far into my pretty pointless story about more crying and burn-out, stay tuned for more insights which could possibly be helpful to more people than just me. I’m positive the insights are coming, whether you want them or not.

Keep on that grind (whoever you are… hi mom?), practice mindfulness, and enjoy your upcoming weekend – whatever that means for you.

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