Sunday
A long Sunday alone is hard for a lot of people, and the afternoon goes easier with a loose plan made the day before. Here are small ways to shape the hours, reach one person, and get gently to evening.
Why Sunday afternoon can feel the longest
Sunday afternoon often feels longest because it has the least built into it. Weekdays come with errands, appointments, mail, and other people going about their business. Saturday has chores and shopping. Sunday, for many people, used to hold the most company of the week: a service and then lunch, a big family dinner, the game on with someone yelling at the referee, or a long walk with a spouse. When that company is gone, the shape of the day goes with it.
By about two o’clock, the dishes from lunch are done and the house has gone still. The street outside can be busy with other people’s plans, cars pulling into driveways and grandchildren running up front steps, and your home can still have nobody in it but you. The light changes slowly. Many people find the stretch from mid-afternoon to supper the hardest part of the whole week.
Maybe you used to love a slow Sunday, back when the calm was your choice and there was someone in the next room. Now the hours stretch because company is missing. Noticing that is fair, and it doesn’t mean you’re failing the day.
This page is about missing people. If the problem feels more like a gray, low mood, read rainy Sundays in the depression room. The evening after supper has its own page, long evenings at home, and so does a holiday, holidays alone. This one is for an ordinary Sunday when nobody is coming.
When Sunday belonged to someone you lost
For many people, Sunday was the day they spent with one particular person. You read the paper together in the morning, drove to the same restaurant after church, or did the crossword side by side on the couch. After a death or a divorce, Sunday can be the day the absence is loudest, because every hour used to have that person in it.
You don’t have to keep every old ritual, and you don’t have to drop them all either. Some people find comfort in keeping one piece, like making the same pancakes or doing the crossword in the same chair, while letting the rest of the day change. Others need a completely different Sunday for a while, at a new café or on a new walking route, because the old shape hurts too much. Either choice is reasonable, and you can change your mind as the months go on.
If you’ve lost a spouse or partner, widowhood is written for that kind of loss, and after a loss covers grief more broadly. If the marriage ended in divorce, after divorce may help.
Plan Sunday on Saturday
The easiest Sundays are usually the ones you sketched out a little the day before. On Saturday evening, take a scrap of paper and write a loose shape for tomorrow, with one thing in the morning, a real meal around noon, one outing or call in the afternoon, and one small pleasure for the evening. Leave plenty of open space around each one. The point is to give the day a few handholds, so you aren’t facing six empty hours at once.
A plan might look like this. In the morning, you have coffee by the window and do the crossword. At noon, you make a grilled cheese and a bowl of soup and eat it at the table. At two, you walk to the park or drive to the library, and at four, you call your brother. In the evening, you watch the program you like, with a cup of tea, and lay out your clothes for Monday.
Keep the plan short enough that you can do all of it on a low day. If you feel up to more, add to it as you go. If a piece falls through, like a call that goes to voicemail, cross it off without judging yourself and move to the next one. A plan written in pencil works better than a perfect plan that makes you feel behind by noon.
Put the afternoon piece at the time that’s usually hardest for you. If three o’clock is when the house starts to feel too big, that’s the hour to be out of it, or on the phone, or busy with your hands at the kitchen counter.
Skip the forced cheer
People love to tell someone alone on a Sunday to cheer up or count their blessings. You don’t owe the afternoon a smile, and you don’t owe anyone a report that it was lovely. You can be grateful and lonely at once: the tea is hot, the chair by the window is comfortable, and you still wish someone who knows your name were there to drink a cup with you.
A Sunday you’d have chosen feels different from one that drags because nobody’s coming. You’re allowed to enjoy the first kind and admit the second is hard. Saying so, even just to yourself, usually helps more than pretending, because pretending takes energy you could use for the walk or the phone call.
You don’t have to fill every hour, either. An hour on the couch with a book is a fine way to spend part of a Sunday. The goal is a day with a few good pieces in it, spread out so that no run of empty hours lasts too long.
Places that are open to you on a Sunday
More places welcome a person on their own on Sunday than it may seem from inside the house. Many places of worship hold a coffee hour after the service, where you can stand near the edge with a cup and talk to one person, or nobody, and leave when you like. Some public libraries open on Sunday afternoons. A diner counter, a bakery with a few tables, or a coffee shop lets you be among people without having to perform.
Parks and walking trails tend to be busy with families and dog walkers on a nice Sunday, and a nod to another walker counts as company. Museums, garden centers, hardware stores, and bookstores are pleasant places to wander for an hour. A matinee at the movies gives you two hours in a room full of people laughing at the same jokes. Some animal shelters, food pantries, and hospitals need volunteers on weekends, when regular staff are thin, and a standing Sunday shift gives the day a purpose and the same faces each week.
If your body is up for a walk and your doctor hasn’t told you otherwise, a walk in daylight is one of the best things you can do on a long afternoon. Fresh air and a bit of movement help many people feel steadier, and seeing other people out and about makes the world feel less empty.
If getting out is hard because of your health, the weather, or no car, bring the outside in. Open the curtains wide, put a radio on to a station with real voices talking, or sit on a porch or balcony for a while if you have one. Even watching the street for half an hour can make the afternoon feel less closed in.
Reaching out on a Sunday
If you’d like company, one small step is plenty, and it’s allowed to fall through. A standing Sunday call is one of the most useful habits you can build. Pick one person, a sibling, an old friend, or a grown child, and ask whether they’d be up for a call at the same time each Sunday: “Would you want to talk every Sunday around four? Even 15 minutes would make my week.” Many people are glad to have a set time, because it saves them from wondering when to call.
You can also reach out without needing a long talk. A short text is enough: “Thinking of you this afternoon. Hope your Sunday is going well.” A handwritten note to an old friend, mailed on Monday, gives Sunday a small task that feels like company. Some people keep a list of a few people they’d like to hear from and work through it slowly, one name a week.
Remember that other people on your street may be alone on Sunday too. A widowed neighbor, a man whose kids live out of state, or a woman who just moved in may be facing the same long afternoon. You could knock with a few extra cookies, or ask, “I’m going for a walk around three. Would you like to come along?” Some will say no, and some will be glad you asked, and one of those yeses can turn into a standing Sunday walk.
If a call doesn’t get answered or a plan falls through, that’s one Sunday, and there will be others to try again. This site won’t teach you how to talk anyone into spending Sunday with you, because everything here is about your own mind. That includes the voice that calls the wish pathetic, and that voice is wrong.
No page can promise you a friend by next Sunday. If wanting a friend is the main thing, read wanting a friend at 70. If your Sundays emptied out because friends moved away, after friends moved may fit better.
Getting gently to evening
The hour before supper is often when the lonely feeling peaks, so give it something to do. Start cooking a little early, even a simple meal, and let the kitchen fill with sound and smell. Eat at the table, even with the other chair empty, and put a placemat down and a real glass instead of eating standing up or from the container. Small comforts like those tell your body the day is winding down in an orderly way.
After supper, turn on a lamp before the room gets dark. A long nap late in the afternoon can make Sunday night harder to sleep, so if you’re tired, a short rest earlier in the day usually works better. Many people feel a little dread on Sunday nights about the week ahead. Laying out Monday’s clothes, writing a short list for the morning, or setting the coffee maker can make Monday feel more manageable.
Some Sundays, nothing on the plan helps. The walk felt lonely, the call was short, and by five o’clock you’re tired of trying. On a day like that, lower the bar. Eat something warm, take a shower or a bath, put on clean pajamas, and go to bed at a reasonable hour with a book or the radio. Getting through a hard Sunday counts as doing it well. Next Saturday, look at what helped even a little, and try a slightly different plan.
Before bed, say one true sentence, to someone you trust or just to the room: “This afternoon was long, and I’d like some company.” Then let the rest of Sunday go however it goes. If the evening is the part that drags most, read long evenings at home for more ideas, and five minutes in a chair has a simple practice for winding down.
Medicine on an empty Sunday
If you take an antidepressant or any other prescribed medicine, an empty Sunday is never a reason to stop it, skip it, or change the dose. Keep taking it as prescribed and bring any questions to your doctor. Medicine and loneliness covers this in more detail.
When a heaviness has been hanging around on other days too, and not only on Sundays, tell your doctor. Signs to take seriously include feeling low most days for two weeks or more, losing interest in things you used to enjoy, and sleeping much more or less than usual. The depression room can help, and you don’t have to figure out which page fits before you’re welcome in either one. If the day starts to feel frightening, go straight to the next section.
If Sunday supper is the hardest part, read Supper for one.
Learn more from trusted sources
These public health agencies explain social connection, and practical ways to keep it, in more detail than this site does.
- Tips for staying connected from the National Institute on Aging lists practical ways to see and hear from people more often.
- Social connection from the CDC explains why time with other people matters for your health.
If you need care
If you’re in crisis in the United States, call or text 988 now, before you read any further. You don’t need a good reason or the right words. If you’re outside the United States, call your local emergency number or a local crisis line. A real person can stay on the line with you.
If you’re not in crisis but the loneliness has brought something heavier with it, like a flat feeling, a tiredness sleep doesn’t fix, or a sense that tomorrow has shrunk, tell your doctor. Keep any prescribed medicine as prescribed until you’ve talked it over together. There’s more in the loneliness room and its questions and answers, short definitions in the glossary (including loneliness and adjunct to care), and short answers in the FAQ. This page is not yet medically reviewed.