It’s Sunday again. A familiar sensation settles in as the afternoon sun begins its descent—the Sunday Scaries. For those who experience it, the term needs no explanation. If you know, you know.
As a mid-50s retail and marketing executive, I’ve spent decades navigating the complexities of business, leadership, and personal growth. With an MBA, an impressive resume, a shelf of awards, and the privilege of teaching as an adjunct instructor, you might think that I’ve got it all figured out. After all, I am a pretty big deal! But like many others, the Sunday Scaries remind me that no amount of professional success can fully shield us from the anxieties that life inevitably brings.
The Sunday Scaries have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. Every Sunday, usually mid-afternoon, my thoughts begin to shift - where did I fall short this weekend? Why wasn’t I more productive? Why didn’t I break the routine and do something meaningful? As the day progresses, those thoughts spiral into concerns about the week ahead. Am I prepared for tomorrow? What am I missing? Did I overlook something critical? The closer it gets to bedtime, the more these thoughts intensify. By the time my head hits the pillow, I’m often more anxious than at any other point in the week.
It wasn’t until a few years ago, as my daughter began to talk more openly about her own struggles with anxiety, that I realized she was going through something similar. I say “similar” because I know that each person’s experience with anxiety is unique. Her anxiety manifests differently than mine, but the core of it - the creeping dread that builds as Sunday gives way to Monday - is something we both share.
My daughter is an impressive young woman. She attended an advanced high school academy where she studied Japanese and Spanish, and now she’s starting her second year of college. Despite her accomplishments, she, too, battles anxiety. I see it in her as Sunday evenings approach, even now that she is on her own in college. She becomes quieter, more introspective, and I can tell she’s working through her own worries about the week ahead.
Our shared experience with anxiety and the Sunday Scaries has brought us closer. She has made me more comfortable talking about it, even encouraging me to mention it when I am speaking to a class about what I do for work and what inspires me. When students see me on a pedestal, telling them that I often feel like I don’t belong there, that I struggle from time to time, I think it makes a difference. My wife has suggested that we start a podcast to talk about these issues—maybe we will someday. Maybe I can’t take on one more project! For now, I’m starting with this blog post.
But why do we, and so many others, experience the Sunday Scaries? Research suggests that this phenomenon is more than just a passing feeling; it’s rooted in both physiological and psychological responses to stress and anticipation. According to experts, the anxiety we feel on Sundays is often a form of anticipatory anxiety, triggered by the impending demands of the workweek. As our brains transition from the relaxed state of the weekend to the structured demands of the workweek, they can start to send out anxiety signals, making us hyper-aware of the tasks and challenges that await us.
For me, this anxiety is tied to a deep-rooted fear of inadequacy. Despite my accomplishments, I often feel like I’m not doing enough, not achieving enough. This is a common feeling among many, including high-achievers, often referred to as imposter syndrome. It’s the nagging voice that tells you that you’re not as competent as others think you are, that you’re just one mistake away from being exposed as a fraud. This feeling can be particularly acute on Sundays, as I mentally prepare for another week of proving myself, yet again.
My daughter’s anxiety, while different in its specifics, shares a similar root in the pressures of expectation. As she has moved from grade to grade and now navigates the complexities of college life, she faces her own set of expectations—both internal and external. The pressure to succeed, to meet the high standards she sets for herself, and to navigate the social dynamics of college all contribute to her Sunday Scaries. It’s a reminder that anxiety doesn’t discriminate based on age or experience; it can affect anyone, regardless of where they are in life.
Society often exacerbates these feelings. We live in a world that still clings to outdated notions of leadership, where vulnerability is often seen as a weakness rather than a strength. As men, we’re often told to “man up,” to push our emotions aside and get the job done. Women, in many ways, have it far worse, often judged by gender and not by actions or intent. This toxic mindset only serves to deepen our struggles with anxiety, making it harder to reach out for help or even admit that we’re struggling.
But the reality is, anxiety is real, and it’s something that many of us deal with on a regular basis. According to recent discussions, the Sunday Scaries are not just a modern phenomenon; they’ve been around for a long time, though they’ve gone by different names over the years. Psychiatrists like Viktor Frankl referred to it as “Sunday Neurosis” back in the 1940s, describing it as a form of depression that arises when the busy week ends and the void within becomes apparent.
So why am I sharing all this? Because I’ve learned, largely from my daughter, the importance of opening up and letting others see the whole picture—not just the awards and accolades, but also the imperfections, the struggles, and yes, the anxiety. I’ve spoken to others about imposter syndrome, about being an introvert, and I’ve seen how these admissions can help others feel less alone in their struggles. The Sunday Scaries are just one more aspect of this shared human experience.
So, as you prepare for the week ahead, if you find yourself feeling that familiar sense of dread, know this—you’re not alone. Whether you’re heading back to school, going to work, or facing any other challenge, you can push through it. We believe in you, and we’re right there with you.
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