Here I am, nestled in my blankets, unable to rise. It’s been a challenge just to roll over and grab my laptop. I’ve spent the majority of the last 24 hours in bed, fixated on the wall. I’m drifting in and out of sleep, wrestling with my thoughts as I try to convince my body to leave this cocoon. Adding to the struggle, I haven’t showered in four days.
I deal with major depressive disorder, generalized anxiety disorder, and panic disorder. Some days unfold like this.
When I chat with others, I tend to be candid. For example, when someone asks, “How has your week been?” I might respond, “It’s okay. I spent the entire day in bed yesterday; I just couldn’t muster the energy to get up.” More often than not, the response I receive is, “Oh man! I’m so jealous! You’re so lucky! I wish I could have stayed in bed all day, but I have work and other obligations.” This reaction frustrates me to no end. I didn’t choose to spend my day in bed, nor did I enjoy it.
I don’t find joy in lying here. There are times when my mind is stable and functioning normally, allowing me to relish a day of rest. But today is not one of those days.
My body feels heavy and achy. It’s as if there are weights pulling me down, making it nearly impossible to lift myself off the bed. Every thought of getting up sends waves of anxiety through me. Even the simplest tasks feel gargantuan. The dishes from last night? That seems beyond my energy reserves. Brushing my teeth? Forget it.
I feel weak, so weak, because I know I should be capable of doing basic things like washing dishes or taking care of my hygiene. Shame washes over me as I realize it’s already 7 p.m., and I’m still here.
Deep down, I know I’m stronger than this. I have to be, right? But today, depression and anxiety are in control. Today, I can’t fight.
I grapple with guilt for spending my time like this. I feel remorse for unanswered text messages and canceled plans. This morning, I called in sick to work just 15 minutes before I was supposed to clock in. I fought hard; I wanted to go. I told my manager I had a fever and was vomiting. The truth is, I am sick today. But saying my brain is unwell isn’t a socially acceptable excuse for missing work.
I had plans to hit the gym and reconnect with a friend, but instead, I sent a text that read, “Hey, I’m really sorry, but I’ve been sick and stuck in bed all day.” It hurts to cancel these plans.
My mind is a battlefield. I try to reassure myself that I will be okay. But the shame and guilt are like demons, whispering that I’m weak and inadequate. They tell me I’m a poor employee and a bad friend. They scream at me, “You can’t even get out of bed!” This only intensifies my struggle to rise.
It may seem like I’m not fighting, like I’m weak today. But when I manage to quiet those inner demons, I recognize my strength. I am fighting. I hold onto the hope of a better tomorrow. So, please, don’t express envy for my day spent in bed. I wouldn’t wish this experience on anyone.
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Summary
In this candid reflection, the author shares the realities of spending days in bed due to mental health struggles. Rather than envy the situation, it’s important to understand the weight of the battle against depression and anxiety. The piece highlights the challenges faced and encourages readers to approach such topics with empathy.