The Real Reason I Didn't Get Out of Bed Today

It’s 6:30 in the evening, and I’m still in bed. I’ve literally only left the shelter of my blankets to go to the bathroom, and I’ve told myself each time I’m up that it’s time to stay up.

It doesn’t matter. My bed draws me in. I’ve been defeated by the monster in my head.

Having major depressive disorder is a chronic battle with your mind. Every day I wake up, I wake up sad. I’m sad I actually woke up, I’m sad I either slept away the previous day or only slept a couple hours. I’m sad I don’t have anyone who actually understands the monster in my head, and I’m sad I feel this way. I tell my boss I have the flu, and cancel every appointment I have that day. I accept I will likely not accomplish any schoolwork like I told myself I would, and prepare the excuses needed to get an extension from my professors. I don’t eat, I don’t even really sleep, I just lay there hating myself for losing the battle of functioning at a “semi-normal” level. The hours go by, and I toss and turn. I cry, I feel angry, I sleep and I stare at the ceiling wondering why I take the drugs that are obviously failing me, wondering if there is anyone else who struggles like this, and wondering why me?

People text and people call. My boyfriend asks if he can do anything. I ignore them all. It’s easier to ignore then to try and explain why I feel so crippled by this disorder. I’m not trying to be rude, I’m just trying to keep the truth concealed so that people don’t worry as much, and I don’t have to cry because I have to lie when I answer the daunting question, “Are you OK?” Maybe tomorrow I can answer truthfully and people won’t be left worried. Maybe tomorrow I’ll wake up prepared to face the day. Maybe tomorrow I’ll get out of bed. Then again, maybe not.

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