I’m Such a Jerk on Mondays

I mean, really. Mondays.

Why do we still pretend they’re part of the regular week? Monday is not a day. Monday is a punishment.

Every Monday morning, I wake up like I just lost 12 rounds of fights with my pillow. My alarm goes off and I start negotiating with myself like I’m in hostage talks:

“Okay, if I get up now, I can sit in the shower for an extra 4 minutes. But if I hit snooze, I’ll skip mascara and pray no one notices my face looks like I fought a raccoon.”

Maybe it’s because I don’t exactly love my job.

Or maybe it’s because on Sunday night, my brain decides to turn into a Cirque du Soleil performance:

  • Thoughts flipping through the air

  • Random worries walking the tightrope

  • That one embarrassing thing I said in 2007 doing a full backflip right into my REM cycle

Sleep? Please. I sleep the way toddlers nap: unpredictably, and only when I give up fighting.

By Monday morning, I’m not rested. I’m emotionally bloated.

Like, if anyone so much as says “Good morning” too cheerfully, I want to file an HR complaint for emotional harassment.

And let’s be honest — I’m a jerk.

Not the full-blown, flip-the-table jerk. I’m more of the passive-aggressive sighing, exaggerated eye roll, pretend-you-don’t-exist kind of jerk.

The coworker who’s way too perky?
“Oh wow, you’re chipper. Did you win the lottery or just really love spreadsheets?”

The email that says “Happy Monday!”
“Yeah, Karen, real happy. I live for unpaid labor.”

The traffic?
“Of course. Of course you’re driving 4 miles an hour, Steve. It’s not like I have anywhere to be.”

But here’s the thing — it’s not Monday’s fault.

It’s me.

I’m like a toddler who just came off a sugar high called The Weekend and now I’m crashing into reality without a helmet.

Maybe Mondays feel heavy because:

  • The freedom of the weekend is gone.

  • The “back to reality” slap is too loud.

  • The caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet.

  • Or maybe (and let’s be real, Joan-style): I just don’t want to be here.

So how do we get through it without terrorizing the entire office?

My Monday Survival Plan (aka Damage Control):

  • Keep expectations insultingly low. If I put on pants and don’t cry before noon, I’m basically Employee of the Month.

  • Bribe myself. A fancy coffee, a breakfast sandwich, a croissant the size of my head — whatever gets me moving toward the door.

  • Use “micro-goals.” Instead of thinking “I have to survive eight hours,” I think, “I just need to make it to 10:30.” Then 12:30. Then 3:00. Boom — day done.

  • Find a Monday laugh. A meme, a dumb video, that TikTok of the raccoon stealing cat food — something to remind me life’s not that serious.

  • Make Tuesday jealous. Wear your best outfit, answer one email with extra wit, do one thing that makes Monday feel slightly less tragic.

And I remind myself: Tuesday’s coming. Tuesday’s like Monday’s better-looking cousin. She still has problems, but at least she brings snacks.

So yes — I’m such a jerk on Mondays.

But aren’t we all?

And if you’re not… honestly, I don’t trust you.

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The Healing Journey