Buried: Getting Out of Bed is Hard

Dear Self That Can’t Get Out of Bed:

I know this is hard.

You don’t feel like there is a reason to get out of bed.

There are a million reasons why you should, but you just don’t care about them anymore.

You see people doing amazing things. You see people graduating with advanced degrees, building robots, and founding companies. You see people making friends, getting married, having families. You see people trying, failing, and getting back up again. You see people being human.

You just feel so far away from all of them. You feel so behind.

The things you want from life seem like they’re on a rocket blasting out into space while you’re lying on the ground staring up at it too tired to even raise a hand. As if that would make a difference.

It’s true: your old plans are like that rocket blasting away and you are stuck here on Earth with gravity pinning you to the ground. You can’t fly, you can’t escape, you can’t get away. You are stuck here. You are you.

So, what’s next?

You have to start from scratch.

I know you see that rocket ship you were supposed to be on fading farther and farther away until you can barely see it. You tally up all the things weighing you down, like a big pile of stones you’re buried under that keeps you chained to the Earth.

Your upbringing: the way your parents raised you, how they made you feel about yourself, how they taught you (or didn’t teach you) to deal with the world. The years of damage you’ve done to yourself: having an eating disorder, isolating yourself from the world, poisoning your mind with toxic thoughts. The opportunities you’ve missed: the gaps in your education from getting treatment, the time and energy you wasted on dysfunction, the things you didn’t pursue because you were too scared. The things that happened to you: getting locked up in a hospital, being in dysfunctional relationships, developing PTSD. The labels assigned to you: bipolar, PTSD, eating disordered, addict, suicidal. The ways you’ve treated others: lied, manipulated, discarded. The ways you’ve treated yourself: abused, disrespected, punished.

That pile of rocks just keeps getting bigger and bigger until you can barely breathe.

How can you keep yourself from getting crushed, let alone get out from under all these rocks, let alone build a new life to support your hopes and dreams from scratch?

I don’t know. I’m so so sorry that I don’t know.

I just know that people have done it before and they don’t do it by sitting in bed and crying. I’m tired, too. I’ll get energy to do something and then it will just go away in a split second and I’ll never want to get out of bed again.

I’ll hold your hand in the meantime.

Please just hold on and don’t give up on me.


Signature: Ana (Dear Cookie Monster)



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