It’s Monday morning as I write this post. Monday morning, with all that implies: back to work (or school), back to the grind, back to those five days we get through until the next weekend. Wednesday as hump day, TGIF, and all that.
Not everyone lives this way—or needs to. When I started freelancing, I no longer needed to divide my days into weekday and weekend. I could write whenever I wanted, complete freelance editing jobs at two in the morning if I wished, sleep until noon. I didn’t. I knew that if Monday started to feel like Saturday, I’d be in trouble.
I need structure, and when I haven’t found enough of it in my surroundings, I’ll go creating it. I do not exaggerate when I tell you that, as a child, I made up to-do lists for fun, taking pleasure in checking off imaginary obligations. Too much unstructured time makes me nervous.
Some years ago, swamped by depression, I dreaded the weekends. Living alone, and hardly in the mood to make social plans, I found myself panicked as Friday approached. The workweek had been tough enough, but with a class here or a job due date there, I managed to make it through. But the weekend?
The weekend, as everyone from the radio announcer to the cashier at Safeway reminded me, was fun time: “Have a great weekend!” When you’re depressed, few words seem more cruel. Weekends struck terror in me, so what did I do? Most of the time, I invited myself over to a friend’s house, where at least I wouldn’t be alone. [Read more...]