A Day In Bed With My Depression


Trigger warning: Depression

It’s 4 a.m. and my bedroom is pitch black. All I see is darkness. All I feel is numbness. My body aches from tossing and turning for hours on end. I want to sleep, because mentally and physically, I am exhausted, but my mind won’t let me. Thoughts won’t stop racing through my mind. They aren’t a steady stream or flow, but more like painful spikes hitting in the same spot over and over and over, just constantly screaming into the silence that fills the room.

I can’t cry anymore. I haven’t cried for weeks. I don’t really feel anything but numb. Some people think depression is all sadness and tearfulness, but it’s not. This is dreadful. I would rather be dead than to endure one more night like this.

It’s 5:30 a.m. and I’ve been mindlessly watching YouTube videos I don’t really care about to pass the time.

Now it’s 1:30 p.m. and I’m awake again. I must have finally gone to sleep, but I feel awful. I’m dehydrated and my body feels heavy like a bag of rocks, and every muscle hurts, but I haven’t moved from this bed in days except to go to the bathroom. I can feel a dull ache in my head, but I don’t want to move and I can’t move. So, I go back to sleep because that’s the easiest and only option right now.

It’s 3:30 p.m. My room is muggy and I still feel numb, but with a twinge of guilt and disgust at myself for staying in bed all day. My stomach growls, but I’m too tired to move and get food.

I haven’t showered in a week. My hair is in knots and my body has an odor I can’t describe. I don’t care about any of that, and the thought of sitting up, walking to the shower, taking off each article of clothing, opening the shower curtain, turning on the water, stepping into the shower, letting the water touch my skin, opening each bottle of soap, lathering the soap onto my hair and skin, conditioning my hair, rinsing multiple times, turning off the water, stepping out of the shower, picking out a towel to dry myself with, drying my entire body and hair with the towel, re-dressing myself and sitting back down is just completely daunting.

Finally, it’s 5 p.m. and my family is home. My mother finds me in my room and she is not happy I have been in bed all day as well as all night. Depression is hard to understand if you have not experienced it. I don’t blame her. I don’t understand this either. Nonetheless, she is still supportive and helps my weak, shaking body down the stairs. She feeds me and makes sure I am hydrated. Without her, I would not have left my bed at all.