Let us guess: You woke up this morning with a vague sense of dread, a weird craving for waffles, and a browser history full of mid-tier Amazon planners and “productivity hacks for women with zero chill.”
Hi. Welcome to Sunday.
Sundays are weird. They’re supposed to be rest days, but somehow they became this manic to-do list sandwich filled with spiritual guilt and emotional bloat. You think you're resetting your life, but you're actually just rage-cleaning your baseboards and doom-scrolling TikTok wellness girlies who apparently live on matcha and manifestation.
You already know the drill. One of us is a therapist, the other’s a coach, and between us we’ve seen just about every flavor of burnout, overthinking, and Sunday spiraling there is. We’ve sat with the women who are holding it all together with dry shampoo and sarcasm. We’ve lived it, too. So when we say you can’t out-organize your way out of nervous system collapse, we’re not guessing. We’re speaking from our realities—hair in a messy bun, coffee in hand, fully aware that trying harder is not the answer.
A Sunday reset isn’t a Pinterest board or a productivity contest. It’s not about forcing yourself into a chore loop to earn rest. A real reset is more of a vibe. A mindset. A quiet, gentle “no thanks” to the chaos. It’s telling your brain: you’re not broken for needing rest. You don’t have to accomplish something to deserve softness. You’re allowed to be a little feral and still worthy of calm.
And no, you don’t need to make sourdough or oil your scalp to qualify.
Your system is likely fried. You’ve got emotional tabs open from three + years ago. And your Sunday spirals aren’t because you suck at life—they’re because you’ve been overfunctioning for too long. Resting on Sunday is choosing not to carry all of that into another week. It’s a quiet rebellion against the idea that you have to earn your peace.
A real Sunday reset might look like a stupidly long shower where you exfoliate your soul. Or wearing soft pants and absolutely refusing to apologize for them. Or turning your phone off for two hours, or better yet, throwing it in the freezer just for the thrill. You might reheat leftovers and congratulate your past self for cooking. You can stare out the window dramatically for no reason other than it feels oddly therapeutic. You might lay out clothes for tomorrow or hide a piece of chocolate in your coat pocket just to surprise Future You with something nice.
That’s the magic. Nothing extreme. No full reinvention required. Just a soft, slow reset. A nudge toward calm. A whisper to your nervous system that says, “You’re safe now. We’re not sprinting today.”
You don’t have to become a new person by Monday. You just need a minute. Maybe an hour. Maybe a nap in a weird position that makes your dog head tilt. That counts. That heals.
Sundays aren’t about transformation. They’re about remembering who you are under all the noise. They’re for doing less. Feeling more. Laughing at the absurdity of it all. They’re for saying, “Okay. I’m gonna make this week suck slightly less,” and meaning it.
So if you need someone to tell you it’s okay to lie down, unplug, and rest without earning it first—hi. It’s us. And if anyone tries to tell you that’s lazy, please send them our way. We’d be more than happy to therapeutically destroy them.
xoxo
Lauren and Corinne