Mornings

Getting out of bed is hard for everyone. Some of us are day people and some are night people, and some fall somewhere in the middle. With depression, I slipped from being as up in the early morning person to someone who can drop onto any sofa or chair and sleep anytime. Too much anytime. I use sleep to hide away from my Bad Critic, (that’s what I finally named my depression), and I picture him as some kind of jelly-like creature who attaches to the part of my brain to prevent my real psyche from coming clear.

So, mornings are a groan. When I’m working, as I am currently, I literally have to say to myself over and over, “Get up. get up, get up, get up” until I throw back the covers and put feet on the floor. throwing back the covers doesn’t count as getting up. Feet on the floor does. Then, there are the cats, and thank goodness they want to be fed with absolutely no concern for me because once I have my feet on the floor they will not let up on me until I head downstairs to feed them. Then once I have the coffee brewing, I’m usually good. Although, I could just as easily go right back to sleep because once the cats are fed, they will curl up with me again, purring and sleeping the day away.

If you are a normal person, this whole rigamarole probably sounds ridiculous! Just get up, woman, right? It doesn’t work that way for me, and I wonder if there are other people out there who have to do the same thing.

Darkness is another matter.

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