I always feel depressed on Sunday.

furryfeaturesSun 26/09/10 15:50

It's like a weekly torment: Sunday. Why?

As far back as I can remember knowing that Sunday was different, the day has usually made me feel down. In part, I think that it is because it is different and different in ways that I dislike. As a very small child I remember everything except for the newsagent being closed. TV programmes didn't start until mid or late afternoon and what was on wasn't worth watching. Until I was about five or six, my parents employed a housekeeper/nanny and I was very fond of her but she didn't work at the weekends.

As I grew older, I enjoyed school and missed it at the weekends. Saturdays were usually fun because my father would take my sister and me shopping in the morning and in the afternoon we'd go for a walk, either in the park or along the tow path by the canal. On Sundays I'd miss being at school.

In 1974 my father was posted to New York. Sundays still seemed distinctly lacking in reasons to be interested. Somehow, I usually felt depressed on a Sunday. In 1976, I went to boarding school in England and Sundays became even worse: I had to endure church services, as the school was CofE. I already knew I was an atheist and really all going to church did was make me exceedingly bored and positively anti-religion. I think that being made to go to church totally destroyed any liking for Sunday that I might still have had. Added to that, at that school I was incessantly bullied, so my liking for school diminished too.

As an adult, I have just hated Sundays. The only exception was when I had jobs on Sundays. For a time I worked in a shop, a job that I loathed but working Sundays was relatively less unpleasant than working other days. I also drove a taxi on Sundays for a time and I enjoyed that.

Now, at a time when I really am wondering why I exist at all, I find Sundays just make me want to die. This morning it just made me feel depressed to think it was Sunday and I switched on the radio and listened until, for some reason, there was a break in service. I then got up and found that one of the cats had been sick. When I woke up this morning, I had a slight headache. As I lay listening to the radio, I just wished that the headache would become a brain haemorrhage.

All the negative feelings that I have during other times are multiplied tenfold on a Sunday. This morning I felt lonely but ten times lonelier than during the rest of the week. This morning I really did want to die. Other things I felt included a total lack of any chance that one day I might have any kind of relationship, in fact, any kind of real friendship. I just feel that at the skills that make people interact and enjoy life, I am the most unsuccessful person ever! I feel unable to cope with being me.

I know that a lot of people have things a lot worse than I have them. The thing is that there are usually reasons why they have things badly. With me, it seems to be that I'm simply the wrong species. I'm intelligent but I seem incapable of using my mind to good effect. I'm friendly but I don't understand who likes me and when someone does like me quite obviously, it's either someone I'm not too keen on or I can't cope.

Cat puke aside, thank goodness for the existence of cats!