For Me Weekends Have Become the Hardest

Weekends have become the hardest part of my week, Saturdays are the worst.

There is a particular kind of loneliness that arrives when the world around you seems to be living while you are simply waiting for time to pass. Television becomes background noise, social media becomes a reminder of lives carrying on without you, and the hours seem to stretch far longer than they should. The boredom isn’t ordinary boredom; it amplifies everything else. It gives my loneliness nowhere to hide.

The cruel irony is that, despite craving connection more than ever, I’m not in a place where I can accept it. Depression and anxiety have made even simple things feel overwhelming. The thought of travelling, meeting people, or stepping into a busy room can feel impossible. I long to be included, to feel thought of, to share time with people I care about, yet at the same time my mind and body often tell me to stay home, where it feels safer. It is a lonely contradiction to live with.

The hardest part is that, when you’ve lived with it for long enough, it becomes difficult to imagine a future that looks any different. Depression has a way of convincing you that today is forever, that this empty Saturday is every Saturday yet to come.

Logically, I know that isn’t true. I know lives change, people appear unexpectedly, friendships grow, opportunities arise, and healing happens one small step at a time. Emotionally, though, it can be incredibly hard to believe, and it can take a frustratingly long time to see progress and change.

So today, I am choosing not certainty, but holding on to that sliver of hope. A quiet belief that one day these weekends may not feel so crushing; that my home will once again be somewhere I share laughter with others; or that my life will simply have grown around the loneliness enough that it no longer defines every Saturday. Whether it be the simple pleasure of a face-to-face conversation, going for a beer, sharing a cigar, or getting geared up and going to a kink event.

For now, that small sliver of hope has to be enough.