How is the WeekEND Over So Fast

Doubtful others can relate to this concept of the weekend going by too quickly, but hear me out.

Ever since Tony Stark cooked up the theory of relativity, we have at least had a scientific explanation for why time flies when you’re having fun. The theory did not, however, make us feel any better about it. To grossly oversimplify and take extrapolative liberties in interpreting the theory, the rate of time passage is directly proportional to the quantity of joy present in a given activity or situation. Considering the weekend, the situation is merely the absence of work. It is assumed this lack of a tyrannical behemoth (work) ought to translate into merriment and glee. Therefore, it follows that time is going to reach terminal velocity, and the weekend will be over before you can say, “Okay, I’m really going to start my laundry.”

But is laundry the most important thing?

Is Laundry the Most Important Thing?

I’m not sure where I was going with the laundry thing. Anyway, we work hard all week, bending at the knee before the titans of capitalism, looking forward to the impending weekend as our salvation. I can’t speak for you, but, early in the week, I look ahead to the weekend with a vision of grandeur, presupposing a flawless balance of productivity and unadulterated relaxation. This viewpoint gradually dissolves as my energy wanes, receding into a mere hope for survival. Invariably, I’m at least a bit disappointed by what actually transpires over the weekend. Each week, I find myself committing to some version of this. And each week, I’m subjected to a dose of emptiness and unmet expectations.

(Reality check: some weekends are really good–even better than anticipated, even. I just get in a groove of doom sometimes when I’m writing.)

So, what’s the problem here? Is it as basic as the weekend being too short? Is work too hard? Am I not attractive enough? Is Tony Stark to blame? Why do I get to the end of the weekend and feel underwhelmed and frustrated, like I wasted two perfectly good days? Monday comes around, and I plop myself down onto the conveyer belt, trying to reassure myself that next weekend is when I’ll make up for lost time. Surely, it’s going to be the weekend of all weekends. I’ve learned my lesson now, and I’m going to ensure next weekend is truly fulfilling. I might even start a new hobby.

This isn’t a merry-go-round; it’s a scary-go-round. Insanity has entered the chat.

A Vacation From My Problems

I’m reminded of a scene from the fantastic film, What About Bob? with Bill Murray. Stricken with a multitude of anxieties, Bob seeks the council of a top notch therapist who advises him to take a vacation. “Not a vacation from your work; not a vacation from your daily life–a vacation from your problems.” As funny as it sounds, I think I kind of do this during the weekend. I don’t want to be bothered by my problems. I’ve labored all week, and now I deserve a break from it all. I don’t take a sabbatical from just my problems, though; I take a vacation from everything.

There is a piece of this that makes sense. Yes, I’ve worked hard. Yes, it makes sense I’d desire to rest and be unencumbered by stressors. Wanting and taking a break is not bad. The dangerous part is when I take this entitlement to a destructive level: I’m going to do what I want, when I want (even if the thing I do is take a long nap), regardless of the detrimental effects on me or others, because I’ve earned it–dang it! To Sheol with the consequences. This is what’s sometimes referred to as destructive entitlement. It is an unbridled, reckless pursuit of the thing I perceive is owed to me. This type of thinking has gotten me into some huge messes in the past, including emotional and sexual affairs.

What happens when I follow this trail of destruction and take what I want? Instead of being refreshed and soothed, I end up feeling guilty, depleted, and unfulfilled.

Juggernaut Passivity

It’s funny that I can possess such internal drive to do basically nothing. I feel so strongly that I deserve to binge a TV show and/or take an embarrassingly long nap, establishing the couch as my domain. Essentially, I actively pursue a position of passivity. Exhausted from the week, I think the best thing for me is to disengage and zone out, falsely assuming this temporary escape will yield a positive end.

Taking time to rest and recuperate is important. But there is a line that’s crossed when self-care becomes self-indulgence.

Multifactorial Etymology

I recognize that we all have different responsibilities and lifestyles. Some jobs do appear hell-bent on ensuring you have absolutely no energy left for yourself by the time the weekend rolls around. Some people have multiple kids in a needful period of development, and y’all are just trying to keep family members from killing one another. There are seasons of survival, and your exhaustion does not necessarily mean you’re doing something wrong. With that, the real need at times, is to collapse and catch up on rest when possible.

What I can say for myself is that how I show up and take care of myself during the week has a huge impact on my physical and emotional state once it’s the weekend. Over-exerting myself, performing to please, and placating others add up to depletion of my soul.

With that said, I don’t want to create a shame game. We can compare our life to others, and judge ourselves about how tired we should be given our workload. Regardless of what my week looks like, and how gassed I am come Saturday, I have choices of how healthy and responsible I’m going to be.

Active Participant

Reflecting on recent weekends, I can say my better ones involve some realistic structuring. The weekends of which I’m not proud include sitting back and defaulting to numbing out. The prime difference here is intentionality. By resigning to passivity, I am stuck in the now without being present. What I mean is I’m not looking at the big picture—the vision of the weekend, if you will—opting instead for surrendering to the river of happenstance.

This submission looks like staying up too late, eating unhealthy food, oversleeping, procrastinating (*cough* doing laundry *cough*), and doom scrolling on my phone. At this point, I’m not engaged in reality. I’ve abandoned my hope for restoration. I’ll go wherever the river takes me. It is what it is.

Alternatively, I can make purpose-informed choices about how I spend my time. Depending on what my body and soul need, I might even decide to take a nap instead of go to the gym. I might plan a hike or other outdoor activity with my wife. The most restorative, life-giving weekends are the ones in which I am an active participant versus a passive observer.

I find myself most fulfilled and with minimal guilt when I’ve gently structured my weekend, flexibly making modifications when I sense my needs change. Instead of checking out, I check in. Connecting with others can help ground me and add fulfillment. Engaging with my wife and pursuing healthy activities (including rest!) together reminds me I’m not alone, and I am capable of collaboration.

Controlled Aggression

I’ve had some wonderful coaches over the years, namely in track & field and cross country. I had one coach who encouraged us runners to compete with “controlled aggression.” For me and my propensity to think in extremes, this was an edifying concept to comprehend. I figured control and aggression were antithetical. When I was able to hold the tension between the two, I ran my best. It was empowering to actively engage (aggression) without going overboard (control).

I think the idea of controlled aggression is meaningful here. For me, it is a stance of an intentional participant. It rejects victim mentality and its lethargy, replacing it with personal agency and tempered exertion.

Stakes on a Plane

What’s at stake here? Maybe I want to keep up this routine of escaping from the mounting stress of the week. On a personal level, I know I miss out on so much when I, well, choose to miss out. There’s no such thing as selective numbing; if I numb the pain, I also desensitize myself to joy and awe. Additionally, by stepping into unhealthy coping, I position myself to be weaker to temptation.

I put great effort throughout the week to continue this work of recovery from sexual addiction. The weekend ought not to be a vacation from continuing this work even if I feel like packing it all up and returning to it Monday.

I want to pursue transformation, and utilizing weekends to keep up momentum versus halt it can make a massive difference.

Part of this work is allowing God into all domains of my life, including the weekend (*gasp*—does this mean Saturdays and Sundays?!). I might feel like I mostly just need God during the stress of the week, but what kind of relationship thrives on connecting only when one party needs something from the other party?

Whether it’s recovery work/self-care or transformative communion with God, there are No Days Off.

P.S. The featured image is my cat, Loki. He knows how to vibe.