Every Monday, I take a walk with my dog and blast my old-school playlist. It’s my way of saying, “Hey, I’m still here.” A little movement, a little music — it reconnects me to myself.

Friday gave me hope. Monday steals it. I always wondered why I was more exhausted after the weekend — until I realized emotional whiplash is a real thing. I started treating rest like recovery, not weakness.

I gave up pretending I could “crush” Monday at 5 a.m. Instead, I found one simple thing — like a good cup of coffee or 10 minutes of silence — to give my Monday a fighting chance.

Every Sunday night, my stomach starts to knot up. Mondays feel like someone pressed the reset button on stress. I’ve learned it’s not just about work — it’s about losing that weekend version of me.