Those who do not experience anxiety as an illness: you cannot even remotely conceive the things that worriers worry about, the things that we loose sleep over, the things that run through our head all...day...long, to the point of wanting to vomit.
When we get a break from the worrying, we hold on tight, sometimes we loose sense of the natural anxieties we are supposed to feel as human beings. It is so hard to find that balance. What am I being unreasonable about? What is necessary to be worrying about right now? So when we are in a blissful limbo, like say, a Saturday, its hard to deal with the return of the worrying. Sunday nights are akin to swallowing a bag of cotton balls. Mondays are the hell of them swelling in your gut.