Yesterday I stayed in bed until about 5 o’clock. I then got up and moved two paces to the other side of the room and sat there for a bit. Then I got up, made some dinner, walked round the kitchen singing in my boxer shorts, and at 7pm got back into bed. The day before went a little along similar lines. Minus the kitchen singing boxer shorts episode.
And you know what? It felt great. Sure, I was in a blinding state of hideous trauma and anxiety for most of the day, and I shook and cried A LOT, but the thing that felt great was the fact that I was giving myself that time wrapped in a duvet, to really FEEL it and feel SAFE. I never do this. Or hardly ever at least. And never like yesterday. The day before, I made myself go for walk in the eve because I so desperately wanted to get some fresh air, but it was horrible. I was so triggered and in a trauma mist throughout, it just felt terrifying. So for once in my life (and I really think it is once), I stopped myself going outside and I really listened to that terrified little girl in me, and big girl at that matter, and stayed in bed. Why? Because that is what I needed.
All this trauma and tenderness has been hyped up by starting new meds. But the thing that this has brought with it, is a trust that’s growing, that it’s okay to give yourself what you need. It’s not okay in fact, it’s fucking essential. This might sound obvious, but for me is a massive learning curve. I’ve always ‘known’ it, but never known it. And I think I’m beginning to.
So, as I lay in that bed, I told that niggling character in the back of my mind, telling me to get the hell out of bed and do something with my life, to back the hell off and give me a break.
This is the cartoon I came up with.
We all need days in bed sometimes, and even though they’re tough ones, at least you know you’re being kind to yourself in and amongst whatever other crap is going on. Next time you’re feeling fragile or triggered, go curl under your duvet, snuggle a hot water bottle and know it’s okay.