Solving Tuesday

Anxiety Paralysis and a String of Pearls

Ever get a case of the Mondays? How about the Tuesdays?

In the logbook of my life, Tuesday is a most notorious character. From piano lessons to after school math tutoring (two primary sources of my childhood grief and grumbling, I should note) it was always a drag. At twenty-four, I’ve long since scrapped the extracurricular activities and homework and swapped them for a couple hours of therapy in the morning.

These therapy sessions have become a sacred space where I’ve learned much about anxiety and depression, among other things. The more I learn, the less scary it is, and the more confident I feel talking about it. I’m fortunate to say therapy has been empowering and educational. But it has also presented a great challenge for me: what to do when the call ends and I close my laptop. There I am at the desk in my room with the rest of Tuesday ahead of me. And that’s when this weird anxiety sets back in. What do I do now?

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Considering the second day of the work week is usually busy for friends, I am often left to my own devices. It’s the perfect opportunity to get some housekeeping done, grocery shop, treat myself— to do whatever I want, really. And yet for some reason the concept of a quiet, solo day can be everything but relaxing for me. It freezes me up.

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I grew up with a very “no days off” dad who would passionately encourage my sister and I to make something of everyday; a message I am grateful for in many ways. As an adult, however, I seem to have taken this mentality to an extreme. No question used to stress me out as much as “What did you do on your day off?” My answer never felt interesting or important enough. Before it’s begun, the day is already looming with guilt and a feeling of failure.

The result? To-do lists. Up until recently, Monday nights were dedicated to crafting the perfect Tuesday. I’d be hunched over a neon green sticky note at my desk, scribbling out to-do lists with little boxes to check off like a mad scientist fleshing out a formula. I’d write everything I could think of, and when I ran out of things, I’d fill in the gaps with basic tasks like “brush teeth” and “take a shower”— excessive, believe me I know. In a poor state of mind, like many, I will try and grasp for control at any empty moment to avoid appearing lazy.

There’s things to send out in the mail. Groceries I need to buy. I should start a side-hustle. Check my bank account balance. Schedule a dentist appointment.

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And yet, I am paralyzed at the sight of these, mostly, basic tasks on my to-do list. Why can’t I do this? Am I lazy? Unproductive? What will people think when I can’t even manage to get to the car wash? Sometimes the anxiety is so great that come Tuesday morning, I can’t even budge from my bed. Why start my day if my little tasks don’t even feel important? Can anyone relate? Apparently, yes— more so than I thought.

Truth be told, I’ve been mulling over my Tuesday-specific predicament for months now, unable to fully articulate what exactly about my self-assigned mundanities are so excessive and so terrifying. It wasn’t until this morning (a Tuesday, of course) that I opened my Substack inbox to an entry by Steph Dyson from Talking Travel Writing, expounding on this very concept. In it, she articulates far better than I can this to-do-list-mania, and also cites an Anne Helen Peterson 2019 article defining the dreaded “errand paralysis” (I highly recommend reading both of these).

Upon reflection, there’s no doubt in my mind that my case of the Tuesdays is a swirling tornado of Millennial burnout, “I should always be busy”, and other insecurities keeping me antsy. It’s a simultaneously subconscious yet highly conscious pressure that there is no time to waste and no moment that should not make us money or further our career in some way, shape, or form. Simply having a day off with no plans is almost impossible to wrap the mind around.

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I’m not writing today to solve the great Millennial burnout or anything like that. But I do come here humbly sharing my experience and seeking a solution for the days when this anxiety hits the hardest.

Of course there are little ways to add attainable structure and peace to the day. Be that meditation, exercise, gratitude before meals, etc. Don’t get me wrong, these things help immensely. But there’s something about my little green sticky note to-do list staring at me from my desk that gives off the same heebie jeebies as the Boogie Man lurking in my closet, keeping me from getting out of bed to turn the nightlight on.

One particular Tuesday morning earlier this year, I found myself at wit’s end about it on a call with my therapist after she asked me what I was planning to do with the rest of my day. I held up my Boogie Man sticky note to the laptop camera, “This. This is what happens when we hang up the call. And if I don’t check off every box on this thing today, I won’t sleep tonight. But I keep freezing up”. Shaking the sticky note I pleaded, “Help me change this”.

String of Pearls

And somehow, from somewhere in her magic-mental-detective toolbox, my therapist had a clue to solving my mysterious spiraling Tuesdays: a string of pearls. A pretty, curvy, free-flowing contrast to my rigid square check boxes (which she promptly instructed me to crumple up and throw away).

This is a tool that she borrowed from therapist, Phil Stutz, featured in Jonah Hill’s recent Netflix documentary, Stutz (also highly recommend). It is for days where tasks feel too big and impossible. On paper, you draw a circle for every life-giving, forward-moving action. This is your pearl. In the middle of the pearl, you draw a small dot to represent the grit that it took to complete that action. Most importantly, this also emphasizes that that every action holds the same amount of value. Therefore, the actions I take and habits that make up my days have value. And sure, maybe these days aren’t perfect in my eyes. But these days, even Tuesdays, in and of themselves mean something simply because I am alive to live them. Their value has nothing to do with the weight or quantity of the tasks I try to fill them with.

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Everyone’s pearls look different. Mine (aside from looking like kindergarten doodles) usually look like getting out of bed in the morning (add a pearl), or eating a proper meal (add a pearl), or publishing a few words on Substack (add a ~slightly larger~ pearl). Some days, they’re not even necessary— I may start a string, and by 2pm have forgotten about it completely.

It doesn’t feel like a rewards system, it really doesn’t feel the same as checking off tasks on a list, nor are the pearls doing all the work. But they do remind me of the value in every day. That every day, I have control over the choices I make. Like that saying goes, “The secret to success is hidden in your daily habits”. Rather than feeling pressure to have perfectly productive days, we can be encouraged to implement healthy daily habits— pearls to our strings— to remind us that every day is worth living and has the potential to spur us into a beautiful motion.

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Giving the monstrous idea of “big busy plans” a break has significantly helped me reframe the way I view my days. It’s okay to take a sabbath, it’s okay not to make plans. You should have something to look forward to everyday, but it need not be groundbreaking. I am happy to report that I have been reaping the benefits of putting the work in to find balance, and Tuesday no longer looms over me with its mindless to-do lists. It is a day I keep for myself that I now look forward to every week. A day for grace and gratitude rather than guilt.

There must be grace for off days, and there must be gratitude for on days.

That’s the only way I know how to “solve” days like Tuesday— by asking for grace throughout the day, and expressing gratitude with every hard-earned pearl I add to my string.

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If you find yourself stuck in a rut, paralyzed by the amount you have to do, or what you think you have to do, I hope I can offer you some peace of mind that what you feel is normal, but it’s so worthwhile to try and overcome. I hope you can recognize within yourself the innate value you add to this world. And maybe just for acknowledging that, you can start your string of pearls.