Sitting in rejection is hard.

Sitting in the uncertainty of a circumstance is painful.

Drowning in a unrequited love is almost life-taking.

On Sundays, I have a lot of time to think--to wallow in the whirlpool of my emotions that assault me on a weekly basis, almost like clockwork.

What is this thing that Sunday does to me every week?

To go from feeling worthy and overcome in church to unworthy and overwhelmed in my home is a peculiar pendulum-like experience that suffocates.

What is this fighting for air that I experience on Sunday?

Maybe it's PTSD--Sunday has been a traumatic day of the week for me throughout the years, and most definitely during the month of January. Maybe Sunday triggers something in me that wants to keep me from joy and freedom. Maybe my Sunday needs to be reclaimed so that I can stop the cycle of unworthy thoughts and unrequited feelings.

I'm out of words for this post, as is the case most Sundays. Perhaps, next week will be different.