It takes me a solid hour to get out of bed. I’m awake during that hour, but I’m ruminating. About depression, about death, about how I’m an idiot and immature, about how I just want to sleep once and for all and never wake up again. Frozen, in my body and in time. But that’s the sad part: time keeps passing. Thinking about how a bit of cuddling and an “I’m here” from an imaginary significant other would come in handy right now. But no, I can’t count on others to get me out of bed. I have to do this on my own, for myself. Nobody but myself is going to take Step 2 CK in two days.
How do I get out of this bed on my own? I have no idea how.
So I just push myself to do it. Day in and day out. And sometimes it turns out to be an OK day or even a good day. But how do I hold onto hope when I feel so miserable in the early morning?
I don’t. I just try and let the feeling pass.
But sometimes it doesn’t.