Some Days

Some days are better than others, and today is not one of those days. I could not get out of bed for the longest time this morning. Time and space were sticky; it was like moving through molasses. In order to finally do it, I had to partially sit up, wait a while, then fully sit up. Eventually, I was able to sit at the edge of the bed, and finally stand up. A tree sloth would have gotten out of bed, made his way down the stairs, done the dishes, and made a batch of pancakes in the same amount of time it took me just to get out of bed. {Bet you didn't know they were so talented!}

Seriously, that is what it is like to get out of bed some days; and I hate myself for it. I know the average person struggles sometimes, but it seems depression adds another layer of heaviness to the whole process.