Desperately Seeking A Cure For Post Four Day Weekend Depression

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Whichever viral moniker we’re currently calling it by, the “Post Holi-daze” depression was first experienced in most of us feeling beings as school children. So ecstatic were we at the mere 2½ extra days off school that we actually had fun, get this, being with our family, playing games, eating and watching a flood of Christmas movies like a dam of Scrooges had just burst as per its annual schedule.

Nevertheless, as the weekend would draw to a close back in those primordial school days, and that (then unappreciated) bedtime was reinstated, the back-to-the-grind depressive state would rear its ugly head.

Upon starting college, the gloomy aftermath subsided for a short span in our lives: interchanging the daily college “grind” with family time was a bit like trying to curb a crack addiction with a couple of Red bulls and a Coke. Thus the end of one vacation simply meant the return to an even greater one, and the post-holiday blues were temporarily gone.

But now they’re back. With gainful employment came an appreciation for downtime. Sure, day-to-day life isn’t awful. Most of the time it may be rewarding and meaningful—dare I say, fulfilling, even? No? Okay, rewarding and meaningful, at least. But you’d be either an obnoxious liar or a deluded fool to try and spoon feed fellow coworkers some tired bullshit about how you have nothing but gratitude for this Monday right here, and you pity anyone lacking such temperament.

One does not simply go from a sexy holiday break to that ugly whore Monday with a smile. A break so gluttonous that Fireball was drank like Corona in an attempt to elicit some trace of a buzz, so entertaining you felt the need to Instagram and tweet no less than two dozen pictures and videos of adorable little cousins, nieces and nephews all connected by the same “#CuterThanTheATTCommercials” hashtag, and yet a break so relaxing you fell into a deep nap mere seconds after the climax of that Auburn/Alabama game. No, one does not simply go from a long weekend of all that, to staring down a blaring alarm clock that reads 6:45am in big, stupid letters (digits—whatever, blow me) and feel anything other than misery, let alone gratitude.

So, with Christmas, New Years and every ethnic holiday in between coming and going before we know it, we ask, is the “Post Holi-Daze” depression avoidable? Sure it is, either skip the holidays or quit your job. Stockpile some Adderall or have your white coat-laden, AMA-approved drug dealer write you a script for the intermittent happy pill.

You could focus on “higher level” cures: transcending your menial, everyday mentality, or reaching that state of self-actualization you wrote about back in Psych 101, for example.

Or you could just suck it up and take solace in the fact that a few runarounds on social media and a couple Internet article reads later, Monday will be over and you’ll be back in the grind, just like that. Of course, re-feasting on those leftovers when you get back home won’t hurt, either.

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David Hoover

David Hoover (DHoov206) is a Seattle native who frequently pretends he is Macklemore's younger brother. He talks in the 3rd person because he's arrogant, and was once voluntarily questioned by the FBI in regards to something he tweeted. Gonzaga University alumnus of '13. (Well, he might be short a class but he's convinced no one actually checks for diplomas.)

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