Even I get the Sunday Scaries
From the Sunday Self-Care Chronicles | 10/11/26
Hey friend,
Can I tell you something a little embarrassing?
Even I get the “Sunday Scaries” sometimes.
I feel like this is something that is only supposed to happen in the corporate world, or when you hate your job, or when you've got a really shitty boss, and I've got to be honest, mine is the BEST. (It's me, I'm my boss 😉).
I mean, I'm supposed to be the self-care lady, why would that feel scary? And I love my work. I LOVE my clients. And there's a whole quote about how if you love what you do, you'll never work a day in your life, but I guess every once in a while on a Sunday evening, I have to call bullshit on that.
And the really wild thing is, everything I love about my work is also what can start to creep up larger than I feel ready for, because my weeks ask me to hold a lot of space. Not just for bodies, but for very real human beings.
When a client settles in and I ask, "So, how are you doing? What's been going on?" they almost never say "my back hurts" or "my scar is tight." They tell me about their week. Their marriage. Their job. Their fears about the world. Their grief. And eventually I bring it back around: so how is that showing up in your body?
Don't get me wrong, I LOVE being that safe space. I do.
AND…
Sometimes, on a Sunday – especially before I've actually looked at my client list for the week – I wonder what new challenges will walk in the door this week. A progression? A loss? A fresh fear that needs a soft place to land? And the quiet doubt rises to the surface. Will I be up for it? Do I have it in me to hold space for both of us? Will I meet their needs in the chair and on the table?
Then I look at the names of the people on my schedule. I see their faces, their smiles. My heart softens and warms. And I know I will show up for every single one of them when it's my turn to. And it will be an honor and a pleasure to do so.
But here's what I've noticed: it's the before that's the hard part.
The before-the-list. The before-the-shift. The everything unknown. All that lack of control.
Which brings me back to this weekend.
I stayed up really late on Friday and Saturday, like 2-3am late. And then I slept in even later. And even after I woke up, I just lay in bed feeling the softness of my sheets, the comfort of my pillows, and the gentle weight of the blanket on my body. And I didn't want to do anything more than that.
The clock tried to tell me I was being lazy, wasteful of this time. An inner voice tried to shame me. You know the one. You should be up. You should be doing something. Other people are living their lives, and you're still in bed in the afternoon.
And usually that voice is loud enough to drag my feet to hit the floor and find a task that feels productive.
But this time I did something different. I asked myself why I wanted to stay there.
And the answer wasn't laziness. It wasn't avoidance of weekend chores. It was this: I wasn't stuck. I was trying to feel safe.
Late at night, when the rest of the world was asleep, and now, lying in my comfy bed in my cozy room, this was a stretch of hours where the world asked absolutely nothing of me, and my bed felt like the safest place on earth.
And the moment I named that, the shame evaporated. Because once you know the why behind something, even if it's staying in bed or getting out of it, the next step stops being a moral verdict, or an overwhelming unknown, and becomes a decision. My choice. Mine.
It also made something else possible. Once I realized my brain was just trying to protect me, I could say: wait. It's actually safe for me to get up and start my day. The danger was never real. The need for safety was.
So I reached for a tool that I have relied on for many, many years and put it into practice in real time.
A simple breathing meditation from Thich Nhat Hanh that allows my mind to meet my breath, and one I want to share with you now.
With your inhale, think to yourself:
Breathing in, I know I'm breathing in.
And then on your exhale, think to yourself:
Breathing out, I know I'm breathing out.
That's it. That's the meditation. A breath and a guiding thought in. A breath and a reflective thought out.
Because here's what I know now: on this side of a breast cancer diagnosis, on this side of each of life's complexities, and even on this side of a weekend in bed: sometimes the truest thing you can know in any given moment is simply this - you are breathing, and you are here.
Think about that.
In this moment, you are breathing. You are here.
And sometimes taking that pause to be in this moment is the next step. Sometimes, figuring out the next step IS the next step.
So I leave you with this mantra and I hope you will try it this week…
If you feel the Sunday Scaries before you turn out the light tonight.
If you are stuck in traffic on your way to work tomorrow and you're not sure how you're going to get through the day when it's barely even started.
If you are watching the news when you get home and feeling the weight of things happening in your own town or across the world.
If you are sitting in a chemo chair and just wishing it were over.
If you are waiting on scan results and trying not to log in to your portal until your doctor actually calls.
No matter what the scenario, take a moment to stop the world and just breathe.
Because odds are I'm somewhere doing it right along with you.
P.S. If you are one of my clients this week please know it is seeing your face on my calendar that makes my brain go quiet and my heart go calm. I can't wait to see you.