I Started To Hate Friday Nights


Katerina Torres

Friday nights were my favorite when we were together. Almost every Friday night, my ex and I would grab pizza--a vegan pie for me, a meat lovers pie for him. We'd plop on the couch, pizza slices in hand, and binge-watch whatever series we were into at the time. We would joke around. We would catch each other up on the details of our week. We'd talk about life. We'd talk about goals. We'd challenge each other. We'd cheer each other on.

It was our night. And it was my favorite night.

After we broke up though I started to hate Friday nights. The lead-up to Fridays gave me knots in my stomach. Friday would come and it felt like I was free-falling into rumination.

I spent those nights in bed, staring at the ceiling, tears running down my cheeks, letting my mind wander to all the places it missed.

I wondered how he was filling his Friday nights now. I wondered if he missed our ritual as much as I did. I wondered how his week went. I wondered if he'd found a new Friday night food spot. I wondered if he wondered about me on Friday nights too.

I knew this wasn't helping me move forward. I knew because every Friday night felt like a setback.

So I did what I knew I needed to do.

I created a new Friday night tradition. I started a ritual that was all mine.

Friday nights had always been my rest day from the gym. But now I needed something to do on Fridays that would feel good. And you know what feels good? Getting to work out in an empty gym!

The quiet Friday nights at my gym allow me to cherish that me-time with full access to any equipment. I don't feel rushed. I have nowhere to be but at the gym, challenging myself.

I'm creating new memories for myself. Ones that don't hurt to think about. Ones I don't dread all week.

Some Friday nights are still hard. Some Friday nights I still ruminate. But all Friday nights are for me now. And I'm going to let myself find peace in that.

Related posts