The inspiration for this blog was born out of one of the worst Sundays of my life. I realize this sounds a bit dramatic, but hear me out.

It was September of 2014, and I was facing the end of a ten-day trip in Hawaii, having celebrated my oldest sister’s wedding. I spent the entire week in a state of pure bliss. Each day, I spent time with family, explored the outdoors, swam with sea turtles, went on hikes, and just generally enjoyed life. As the trip came to a close, I was feeling the typical nostalgic sadness that most people might feel when leaving a vacation.

This would be hard for anyone to leave.

It wasn’t until the moment we had checked out of our hotel in Maui, and stepped into the airport shuttle, that the typical nostalgic sadness turned into something completely different. The second the car door shut, I started crying. I didn’t stop crying until well after the plane wheels hit the runway back home in Chicago. I actually think I only stopped because I was forced to sleep at some point. Let me reiterate that this was a 23 hour trip.

I cried the. Entire. Time.

I have never dreaded a Monday morning more than I did that day. My reaction to returning home and going back into normal life was surprising even to me. I had gone on vacations before, and while I always felt sad when they were over, there was still a sense of comfort to returning home and getting back into a routine.

It took me awhile (and a few weeks of misery) to really understand what was going on with me, and why I reacted the way I did.

I was unhappy (I know, it doesn’t seem like it would take a more than a few minutes let alone a few weeks to figure that one out). Specifically, I was unhappy with the direction (or lack thereof) my career was headed in, working a stressful 9 to 5 office job that I wasn’t particularly invested in, and how I had chosen to design my lifestyle living in a city that operates on roughly 8 months straight of winter.

A typical Chicagoan outfit.

After coming out of my post-Hawaii misery haze weeks later, I decided that I would make a concentrated effort to improve my life on all fronts, and build a life where I would never experience that type of Monday morning dread again. Which is where this blog comes in.

I am not naive enough to think that my entire life should or will ever feel like a week in Hawaii, but I am naive enough to think that it is worthwhile to fight to live a life where I am doing something that makes me excited to get up (most) Mondays.

I have experienced two camps of people; the first who believe that your work is just a way to make ends meet, nobody ever loves their job, and to just suck it up if you’ve found something that you can tolerate (not to suggest this is an incorrect viewpoint, because these people tend to be much more content than I am, so whatever works for each person, I’m all for it). The second group is where I believe I fall-people who believe that you can and should do what your passion is (which doesn’t always have to be related to the job you have), and pursue what inspires you. Even if it doesn’t work out that way, I would like to leave this earth knowing that I tried my hardest to accomplish that.

This blog is where I’ll document my attempts at living a life of happiness, embarking on a lifestyle and career change, navigating life as an introvert, some occasional non-sensical ramblings that have to do with none of that, and ultimately try and understand how one finally shakes the Sunday Night Blues and reaches a point where they can honestly say “I love Mondays.”

Side note-if you’ve already figured this out please e-mail me, and also try not to rub it in.

Love,

Meg