Why weekends aren’t as great as they should be.

Every Friday night I have this overwhelming sense of relief. I’ve made it through another tough week of teaching, parenting and trying to fit in some workouts. Every Friday I feel optimistic – I’m going to get up and walk the dog, run, go to the gym, get jobs done, clean my house, spend some precious time with my family, sort the garden out, do some DIY, catch up with friends, read, help the kids with their homework, prep the week’s meals…..and on and on and on. Every Friday night I drink. I drink the week away and I drink because woohoo, it’s the weekend!

Then Saturday morning hits me like a slap in the face. Friday night’s euphoria a distant memory and utter exhaustion sets in. During the week I run on adrenaline and caffeine but when I reach the weekend I just grind to a halt. In the cold light of day the DIY seems less appealing and actually I’m pretty knackered so would rather not go for a run, or a dog walk or do anything much. I catch sight of myself in the mirror. When did I start looking so old and worn down? I beat myself up for letting myself go. I snap at the kids who argue constantly. I let them watch too much TV because I want peace and quiet but then I beat myself up for being such a boring and useless mother. I spend ages scrolling on Facebook and Instagram, wondering where other people find the energy to get out and have fun. I beat myself up again for wasting time looking at my phone. My house is a dump, it’s disgusting and I feel overwhelmed so I sit and do nothing. I beat myself up again for being lazy and useless. At least during the week I barely have time to breathe, let alone notice what a mess my house is.

Then Saturday night finally comes around. Woohoo Saturday night! I’m not actually going anywhere but it’s Saturday night so I’ll drink some wine. Sunday is going to be the day I get all my shit done. Sunday I am going to sort my life out. The funny thing is that I’m still knackered on Sunday. I wonder why, I mean it’s the second day of the weekend, I should be fully rejuvenated by now right?! I’m slow to get going. I’m still grumpy but I don’t really know why. I can’t focus my attention to any task so I pretty much do nothing. Panic starts to set in. It’s Sunday and I still haven’t cleaned my house, spent quality time with my family, prepped the week’s meals, made my face look alive and youthful and on and on and on.

I’ve written a plan for next week. I do it every Sunday. I can’t actually fit everything into my week. I never can. My plan fills me with anxiety. It always does.

I’ve not written this to be a miserable cow (although that is what I am at the moment). I’ve written it for anyone else who just hangs on in there through the week, only to find the weekend a struggle too. I’ve written it because posting pics of workouts and dog walks and my gorgeous girls, make it look like my weekends are all sunshine and rainbows. They are not. It’s not because I don’t love my family, or want to get things done. It’s because I have a job that takes everything I have and leaves me with very little energy for anyone or anything else.  I don’t know what the solution is (cutting back on the wine is a good start I know) but I’m pretty stubborn and I’m going to find one….