I would love to get up at 6am again. It would give me plenty of time to surf and find appropriate stories for you to read when you get to work. It would give me hope that I can face the day. I got 9 hours of sleep last night before the alarm went off at 8 this morning, and I still stayed in bed until 10:30. This angers me to no end. I want to get up, but the depression drags me back down again. The ironic thing about it was it was like someone threw a switch. One moment it was impossible to get up, the next moment no problem. I wished that would work for the rest of the day. I’m working myself up to actually shave and brush my teeth next.
Living with depression is like living with an extra 100 pounds. But instead of it being around your waist, or in a backpack, it’s all carried on your neck and shoulders. It drives your center of gravity forward so you are off balance. It curves your spine so you’re always looking down. It makes your knees buckle so every step is unsure. If you’re not careful you can be driven to your knees. When I am overwhelmed I literally feel every pound on my neck and shoulders. When a decision or problem weighs heavily on you, that load can be shared with family and friends. I don’t have that luxury.