Not exactly Sunday Blues more Sunday Bleed.

It used to be a strange day for me, Sunday. Somehow it had become the start of my working week.

Sometimes it would begin in the morning but definitely by 4pm it would be there.

A shift in the quality of attention. The conversations I was half in. Thoughts about Tuesday's meeting arriving without an invitation and staying longer than needed.

By Sunday afternoon my working week had started. I just hadn't left the house yet.

I used to think this was just how things were. The price of the role. Normal.

But what I came to understand about normal is it doesn't stay still. It creeps.

What began as a Sunday evening feeling gradually became Sunday morning. Then Saturday evening. The boundaries softened so slowly that I didn’t notice them moving.

And because nothing dramatic happened, no crisis, or obvious moment of loss, it didn't register as a problem.

It registered as my life.

The people around me, my wife, children, friends, adapted. They learnt not to expect my full attention and stopped trying to reach me when I had that look. They’d find ways to be together that didn't require me to be there.

They just adjusted to a version of me that had become reliable in its absence.

Relationships don't fracture this way. They thin. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they become less than they were. And because there's no single moment to point to, no obvious cause and effect, it's almost impossible to name what’s happening until the distance is already significant.

The week doesn't demand any of us this early. I was giving myself before it asked.

And what it takes wasn’t just my Sunday. It was the texture of my life. The small unremarkable moments that don't feel important until you notice they've stopped happening.

A life lived this way doesn't feel broken. It just quietly becomes half of what it could be.

How about you? When does your week actually start…. and who's sharing the cost of that?

Not exactly Sunday Blues more Sunday Bleed.