I see so many people always looking forward to the weekend or Sundays so that they can relax and take a break. The weekend almost comes as a messianic figure for so many people in their daily lives. My opinion is something else, something which emerged from my experiences in 2015-17. The two years when almost every day of my life was a Sunday.

You wake up; you eat, poop, lie in bed, watch a screen, lie in bed, watch a screen, scroll, eat, scroll some more, run, play, bathe, eat and sleep. That is the cycle that I got myself into. It was what my life had become. All of this was interspersed with thoughts of self-hate and self-harm.

It is fun at first. You enjoy the relaxation, the lack of apparent responsibilities and all the freedom that comes with it, until one day you don’t. One day you wake up and realize that you are stuck in a pattern, a cycle of sloth and laziness that you cannot get out of. Slowly, the relaxation turns into boredom and freedom becomes a shackle in itself, restraining us from doing something productive.

Slowly it becomes toxic and you struggle to even remember what you used to do when it wasn’t like this, what it was like to go outside and what it was like to be a part of something. You end up becoming a waste of human resources and your mind, free from the work that would otherwise keep it busy, runs amok and makes you hate yourself more.

It is on days like these that people who tell depressed people to stay busy in some work seem sensible but the problem is this advice only works when it hasn’t been too long and the mind can be recovered from distractions, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

This is why Sundays make me feel icky. I am reminded of past times and rather than taking a day of rest and ease, I actually end up doing more things and working out more in the gym than on regular days.

I guess, Sunday doesn’t mean the same thing for everyone.