Every Sunday around 4pm, the dread sets in. By 9pm, James can't sleep. He spends Monday morning exhausted. Lound helped him trace the anxiety to its actual source, and it wasn't Monday.
James is 32, an account manager at an advertising agency. He actually likes his job most days. Good team. Decent clients. Nothing catastrophic.
But every Sunday, without fail, the anxiety hits. It starts as a background hum around 4pm. By dinner, he's distracted. By 9pm, he's doom-scrolling LinkedIn, convinced everyone is doing better than him. By 11pm, he's lying in bed, heart racing, running through Monday's meetings in his head.
His wife asks what's wrong. "Work stuff," he says. But he can never point to anything specific. It's just... everything. And nothing. That's the worst part.
"Here we go again. It's not even anything specific. I just feel this weight in my chest. Like something bad is about to happen. Tomorrow's Monday, yeah, but nothing terrible is scheduled. Just normal meetings. So why do I feel like I'm about to go to war?"
"It's starting earlier today. We were at the park with the kids and I couldn't enjoy it. My mind kept drifting to work. The Hendricks account review. The new business pitch. None of it is urgent, but I'm already rehearsing conversations in my head. Sarah noticed. She asked if I was okay. I said I was fine. I wasn't fine."
"Okay, I'm starting to see something. The anxiety isn't about Monday. I realized that because by Tuesday, I'm usually fine. It's specifically Sunday nights. And it's been like this for... years? Even in my last job. Even before the kids. What is that about?"
I've been analyzing your Sunday recordings versus the rest of your week. Something stands out:
Your anxiety spikes on Sundays when you haven't set any boundaries that week. When you said yes to things you wanted to say no to. When you over-committed. When you didn't protect your time.
The Sunday dread isn't about Monday. It's your brain's way of saying: "You gave away too much of yourself this week, and now you're running on empty."
Wait, can you show me what you mean about boundaries?
Last week you mentioned: agreeing to the Henderson rush job when you were already at capacity. Saying yes to the Friday 5pm call when you'd planned to leave early. Skipping lunch twice to help a colleague.
The week before, when your Sunday was milder? You'd said no to two meeting requests and left on time three days in a row.
Friday 5pm call
Dec 8 · "I should have said no but..."
Henderson rush job
Dec 6 · "Why did I agree to this?"
Holy shit. I never connected those.
That's the thing about patterns. They're invisible when you're inside them. Your Sunday brain isn't being irrational. It's accurately reporting that you're depleted. The question is: what would it take to protect your energy during the week so Sunday feels different?
"Tried something different this week. Said no to the Thursday evening call. Didn't apologize for it either, just said 'I'm not available then, how about Friday morning?' They said fine. That was it. No drama. I've been so afraid of saying no that I forgot it was even an option."
"It's 8pm on Sunday and I'm... fine? Like, actually fine. We had dinner, watched a movie with the kids, and I'm not doom-scrolling. The dread isn't zero, but it's like a 3 instead of an 8."
"I set three boundaries this week. Three! And none of them blew up my career. Who knew."
This is the first Sunday in 6 weeks where you haven't mentioned "dread" or "weight" or "can't sleep." The difference? You said no twice and left work on time three days. Your Sunday anxiety isn't a character flaw. It's a feedback mechanism.
The Sunday scaries weren't about Monday. They were about the week he'd just survived.
Lound connected Sunday anxiety to mid-week boundary violations. The pattern was hidden until mapped.
Not vague advice to "set boundaries." Actual examples from his own words, his own week.
When he changed the input (boundaries), the output changed (calmer Sundays). Proof, not just theory.
James still gets Sunday scaries sometimes. But now he knows what to check. When the dread creeps in, he asks himself: "Where did I give myself away this week?" The anxiety isn't the enemy anymore. It's information. And he finally knows how to read it.
If your Sunday nights feel heavier than they should, there's a reason. And it's probably not Monday. Let Lound help you find the real pattern so you can actually do something about it.