Twins Karen and Kristy Ambrose, also known as The Ambrose Girls, share their thoughts on the Sunday habits and perceptions of millennials.
Sundays. We all seem to dread them for really good reason. The large majority of us 20-somethings begin each Sunday in a desperate search for water, our iPhones, and perhaps any remaining pieces of our dignity. The clichéd phrase "the struggle is real" becomes the perfect definition of our reality. Hours ago we were living it up with our besties (and some Patrón) and now we're all alone, with blinds only halfway drawn, in an emotional pit of despair wondering what the EFF we did last night to feel so sh*tty.
How do we deal? It seems we have two options only:
Option 1) Go to a boozy brunch with your friends under the strict agreement that judgment of any kind is not allowed and that calories do not count. What better way to stave off the "Sunday Scaries" than with some high-cholesterol foods accompanied with even more alcohol? Some Sundays just seem too rough to face alone, so you're thankful that you have such great friends and that Bloody Mary bars exist at several local restaurants.
Option 2) Remain exactly where you are, in a dark pit of doom, formerly known as your bedroom. As scary as solitude is while you are in an emotional tailspin, you cannot fathom a shower or any more alcohol. You convince yourself that remaining in your largest sweatshirt with no pants on and the ability to drool with no judgment is your best and only option. After all, pizza is just a 10-digit number away. Who needs friends when you can have a large pepperoni all to yourself? Staying as you are while staring at several different screens in the darkness seems your only way to cope with the physical and emotional repercussions of your weekend.
So, we go about our Sundays doing whichever option suits our little "hangys" the best. As we come down from our party high, without warning, our minds creep into a full-on panic mode that turns us into anxious little beings. Any small innocent thought from the night before can be the one loose thread to make your whole mind unravel. And here is when the "Sunday Scaries" kick in full force.
The most common Sunday scary thoughts usually come from within ourselves, but other times they come from a fellow party friend who lovingly reminds us of something we would RATHER NOT KNOW. These demons can include thoughts like "OMG I hope that really didn't happen!," "I for sure dreamed that . . . for sure," "How on earth did I get home last night?," "Oh dear lord I cannot even look at my phone . . . I don't even want to know," and the classic, "When am I ever going to grow up!?"
More often than not, if you are a 20-something experiencing the "Sunday Scaries," you are also single. This might be one of life's cruelest combinations. Your lack of a significant romance magnifies the scaries because it is quite possible you made some big dating mistakes in your drunken haze the night before. Instead of lying around cuddling with your SO as they reassure you, you really were the most adorable drunk the town has ever seen. You are alone, and terrified to look at your drunk texts, and/or you wondering who the hell that bar makeout was with. You greet your Sunday with complete angst when it comes to anything dealing with the opposite sex.
So, how to fix this? How do we quiet our minds that are making us question if we are even able to continue on in life? We are millennials, so, just like when we are faced with most problems, we get our phones out. And as frequent victims of the "Sunday Scaries" we know just how to get the validation we think will remedy our lost souls.
We strike up some witty text banter with an option we purposely ignored the night before, we post THE BEST photo in hopes of 100-plus "likes," we look up every single person on Facebook to make sure our night was better than theirs, and we even give "Dave from the bar" a response to his embarrassing selfie. Salvation to survive this day can be found by swiping into the world of the social medias and getting on our text game.
We all do it; we know it and can smell it from a mile away. So on Sunday around 3 p.m. when your phone lights up with a text from a member of the opposite sex that you vaguely know, you recognize this as a smoke signal from another fellow singleton coping with the Sunday Scaries. Bless their heart. Even though you normally blow them off, you just can't bring yourself to do so knowing full well that they must be going through some serious scaries to have to resort to their desperate-sounding text.
The biggest looming question over all of this however is . . . when will we grow up? Is this Sunday Scary routine really going to last until we're middle-aged? God, we hope not. However, until we all decide to abandon our desperate need to "see and be seen" and get #turnt every weekend, the Sunday Scaries will remain. This is a universal truth that must be acknowledged.
Yes, Sundays suck, but when you're lying on the ground wondering how you are ever going to survive this day, remember that you are not alone. There are thousands, perhaps millions of people suffering the same fate that you were dealt when you woke up at 11:36 a.m. If all else fails, the best of the best coping mechanism we can come up with is this: it's never too early for wine. Hang in there, Sunday Scary sufferer, this too shall pass.