There was a time when I would spend entire weekends in the bed. Of course, I would get up to use the restroom and get something to eat. I would just get back into bed. I would rarely answer the phone. I would occasionally respond to text. I set the thermostat on the coldest temperature, restarted Grace and Frankie from season 1 episode 1 over and over and then get comfortable in bed ready to sleep the day away.

It did not dawn on me that my sleeping was a faint cry for help. If I did not have any obligations to go anywhere, then I would be in the bed. Was I depressed? The thought often crossed my mind. But if I was depressed then why wasn’t I also in bed during the week I wondered? I convinced myself that it wasn’t depression.

In hindsight, I believe it was a case of high functioning depression. My last relationship had ended. . . very badly. I thought he was my future Mr. I was entirely wrong about him and his intentions. I was sad and extremely lonely. The break up felt like a punch in the gut. Ouch! I didn’t want to show up for myself on the weekends. There was no cleaning routine. My place consistently looked like Hurricane DDC had ransacked everything. There was no desire to workout. There wasn’t a relationship with the Lord. I was grieving. I didn’t know it then, but I can clearly identify it now.

This was several years ago now. I was up this morning pulling the sheets off of my bed getting ready to wash (Wednesday is the day to clean my bedroom) and the thought crossed my mind of how I used to spend entire weekends in this bed. Thankfully, I am pass that phase of life. I function. I clean. I pray. I meditate. Occasionally I work out too. I do not want to go back to that place. I will not go back.

XOXO

Lesson: You never know the battles that people are fighting daily.

Question: Do you notice when the life of the party stops living?