When You Just Can't Get Out Of Bed

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I am a simple woman. I like my bed, I like good food, and sometimes, I like self-pity even more. Last week I didn't post anything on the blog because, well, I just couldn't get out of bed. I wasn't sick, not physically at least, but I also didn't feel good. I had come off of the high of an extremely productive week prior and as soon as the sunlight of Monday July 30th peaked its way in through my bedroom window, all of that motivation was gone. I wasn't the person I wanted to be and it felt like I was a walking, talking, shell of a human being. This might be a bit dramatic, but I'll bet money that others have felt or are currently feeling this exact way. It's not a new idea - the thought that all of our daily efforts might be completely pointless - and yet, every time this feeling strikes I always experience it as the very first time. My mind feels hazy and I can't really imagine what tomorrow will look like or if it will even come, but I still trudge along, hoping that I can just get all my tasks done so that I can crawl back into bed and watch something mindless. 

Instead of sharing any of the posts I was planning to before this feeling hit, I wanted to discuss this sudden and incredibly jarring mental state I was in as a way of clearing my head and also contributing to the conversations around mental health. I see myself as a "regular" person; someone unaffected by severe depression, schizophrenia, BPD, or any other incredibly visible mental or physical health issue. I wake up, I work, I practice my passion, and I go to sleep in order to do it again the next day. The lifestyle of many other North Americans. And yet, to think that under the surface, somewhere between complete emotional and physical incapability, lies this limbo of constant and gruelling uncertainty about life and the choices you make in it. I tell myself that I have no socio-economic reason to feel this way, but I do, and it comes out of nowhere, and it's debilitating enough to affect my day, but not so much that I can't forget about its effects for a little while until it returns. 

The biggest reason why I wanted to share these brief and completely vulnerable thoughts on my blog is because I haven't gotten any reassurance on the social platforms and communities I am currently a part of. I have never read about these "non-clinical" feelings as maybe being more than just millennial entitlement to an emotional awareness that our predecessors didn't have. It has never been validated for me that these feelings are both devastating, yet totally mundane at the same time. Instagram (the platform I use the most) posits the idea that you are either constantly, acutely aware of your mental insufficiencies or that you have all your shit together and are on the path of constant self-improvement. I lie somewhere in between the two of those and still feel like a complete outsider.

I guess what I wanted to say with this post is that no matter what you are feeling, no matter how bizarre, indescribable, or unnoticed it seems to be, there are always going to be people out there that feel the exact same way, whether they talk about it or not. I also wanted to shout out two influencers who have bridged that gap for me a bit because of how open and honest they are online. 

These two ladies have been unapologetically sharing the good and the bad of their lives online and I couldn't be more thankful. They show their success in the fields they have pursued, but don't shy away from discussing their insecurities with the otherwise inconsequential parts of life. They don't rely on their physical appearance to carry the brunt of their adequacy and they each have a voice that is both distinct, yet one that I may have heard chattering in my own head.

Let's let go of the idea that while our journeys differ at points and experiences provide us the fuel to create art, that we aren't also all the same at the end of the day.