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A bed day

Today is a bed day. It's one of those days when I know I am safe if I sleep. It's a day when the energy to unload the washing I started 2 days ago evades me despite knowing there are no clean jumpers for school tomorrow. It's a day when the pyjamas are spread round the lounge, last night's washing up remains littered around the kitchen. The curtains are closed. It's a day when I hide under the covers wishing I had never made a stupid contract not to harm myself with my therapist. It's a day where bed really is the only thing I can manage. Where I would love a friend to come and hold my hand but I can't reach out to anyone to do so. Today is a day when I realise why my mother spent so much of my childhood in bed and fear my children will grow up with the same feeling of abandonment that I did. Where I feel both pain, shame and loss all at once. Today is a day my husband will carefully check I am still breathing when he comes in. Just in case. Today is a bed day. It isn't a lazy day. It isn't a fun PJ day watching tv under a blanket. It is a day when taking the children to school almost kills you. When you both long for and actively avoid company. It's a day that feels endless. It's all the wasted opportunities. It's a day where you just cannot function. Where you grieve for your capable self. Where you feel so, so alone and so, so overwhelmed. If I am having a bed day please don't be offended I cancel plans, please don't judge the state of my house or the joggers I wear on the school run. If you are a friend that's ever seen me in my pyjamas or you visited the hospital I probably love you enough to have you offer to hold my hand and see me today. To throw tissues my way and love me until today passes. Today is a bed day.
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