How I Got Out of Bed

A report from the messy middle of depression

How do I love myself?

How do I find purpose?

How do I get out of bed (or off of the couch)?

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PS - If you’re not going to read this whole thing and just need a quick answer, there’s a TL;DR at the bottom of this page. But I also really think this one is worth a read when you can. If reading isn’t your thing, there are several free text-to-speech readers!

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I asked myself these questions for years.

I have been moderately high functioning while holding depression my entire life.

By high functioning I mean I held a more than full time job and even built a career out of it, traveled for fun, posted happy things on social media, and socialized regularly with family and friends. I functioned in the world, sometimes wildly successfully.

Most people in my life had no idea how deeply hopeless and purposeless I felt 90% of the time. For years, I thought it would be much easier to be dead than to be alive, but anytime I started scheming an out, I wondered what poor person would find my body and whether my parents would survive.

Friends commented on my Instagram that they were jealous of my life.

At work, I was often short tempered, irritable, and mean to people who I deemed too lazy, too stupid, or too slow. I saw faults everywhere I looked. I blamed my moods on a shitty industry and an anger problem. My anger was a sturdy plank I had built over a bottomless pit of sadness. A plank precariously balanced on 16 hours a day onsite and drinking until I couldn’t remember afterwards. A plank I reinforced with jobs that fed my name-dropping ego, dopamine hits of challenges conquered, and a desperation to keep moving.

As the plank started to wobble, I started calling out of work for reasons I made up when I thought they could do the call without me. In an industry where taking a day off creates a lot of stress for peers, guilt got me out of bed most days. But even guilt gave in. I have had a lot of sick family members (but I didn’t kill anyone who wasn’t actually dead - too superstitious for that!) So many foods I didn’t eat have poisoned me, but I’m also not so sure that “sick” was a lie anymore.

Couch Me

I say moderately high functioning because, if I hadn’t pre-packed my schedule with work or something else, I spent all day, for weeks at a time, on the couch watching reality tv. I would only get up to go to the bathroom and even then I waited until I was physically uncomfortable. I waited too long (I was so out of touch with my own body, I didn’t notice I had to pee until that last minute ) and peed in my own pants on the way to the bathroom more than once. I ordered DoorDash or Seamless for every meal. I paid people to do my laundry. I let trash pile up in the kitchen until it stank up my apartment. I threw away every dollar of my 16 hour days without leaving the couch.

I have so many unkind narratives about couch me. I blamed her for everything. I hated her. She was disgusting and lazy.

We could have written seventeen books in the time that we’ve spent on the couch.

We are supposed to change the world and we do nothing. Because of her.

This is trash tv. A guilty pleasure.

She wastes all of our time.

She’s useless and pathetic. She’s unlovable. She’s embarrassing.

Writing “she’s embarrassing” makes me physically cringe as I remember how often I would lie. I can’t even count the amount of times I told my partner at the time that I had gone out with friends or worked from home or gone to some party I fabricated or went to a job that I have called sick into. But I had been on the couch, choking on shame.

“Fail, Fail Again, Fail Better”

Couch me is really lucky because she has other parts that don’t want to be on the couch. Those other parts have made a lot of attempts to get her off of it.

1. Therapy: I spent years in therapy trying to figure out what was “wrong” with couch me.

2. Running myself into the ground: I tried packing my calendar and being distracted.

3. Bribery: I bribe myself with little treat-os all of the time. It works for dogs, it works for me.

4. Breaking down tasks: Don’t think about doing the whole sink of dishes. Just clean one dish.

5. Routine: This helps me prove to myself that I can show up for myself and creates stability for my brain.

6. Medicine: This also helps. I got bloodwork done and found out I was deficient on iron and some vitamins so I started taking them. (Sporadically. Still working on that.) I also know good diet and water helps me.

7. Brain surprises

   The brain surprise tactic was just a month or two ago. Even after I had started sorting through my depression and feeling better, I still found myself sinking into the couch and onto Love Island, and that frustrated me even more. We are getting better! What are you doing??

   My coach told me that it was possible that my brain was just falling back into a pattern especially since I had returned from sunny California to the apartment in NYC that I had lived in for much of my deepest depression. She said my brain might be accustomed to just going to the couch here. So (after procrastinating for a month) I rearranged the furniture.

   I have a small NYC 1 bedroom apartment. The living space is one room, but the couch is at the center. I moved the couch to the side, up against a wall. I brought my keyboard out of my bedroom closet and set it up so poet me could make music. I set up a standing desk attachment. I re-stuffed the window seat cushion whose carcass I had also shoved in the closet years ago, after a subletter (shhh, don’t tell my management company) cooked meth in my apartment and ruined all of my soft goods. Another story for another day… I moved shit around. I added a cozy work corner.

   I even felt proud as I sat on the couch in its new position and turned on The Bachelor.

And then: Win

I think that most of these tactics were helpful, but either short-lived or partially successful for one reason: all of them were trying to “fix” couch me.

She didn’t need to be fixed. She’s not broken.

She needed to be forgiven. She needed to be seen. She needed to be loved.

She needs to be asked what happened to her, not what’s wrong with her.

She needs to be thanked for keeping us safe on the couch and forgiven for any mistakes she might have made. She was doing her very best.

I’m still not entirely sure why she’s on the couch. I think there are a lot of answers and we’re still digging through them with compassion and curiosity. But I also don’t know if we have to nail down one answer to keep going.

I think she’s sensitive to the outside world of NYC and all of its many assaults.

I think she’s worried that if she gets up, she’ll have to do something, and she’ll fail.

I think she knows it’s safer on the couch.

I think she’s seen me push my body so hard and take over night calls and. I think she’s tired and afraid we might never rest if she doesn’t make us.

I think she’s worried that the world is not safe. That she does not belong in it. That her dreams are too big and silly. That people don’t understand her. That if we go outside she’ll have to hide.

I think she feels unwanted and worth hiding and the only way to not be hidden is to be alone on the couch. Because she’s the sad part. Because she’s the hard part. Because she’s the weak part.

I think she’s worried that if the tv isn’t on, the other parts of us will have to talk to each other about their pain, they’ll have to feel it. They’ll all remember how it felt to feel like she didn’t belong here.

I don’t think she wants anyone else to feel any pain so she takes it all for herself.

I think she turns on the tv so the kid inside me can curl up in front of it and watch the stories about people who feel big feelings like she does instead of feeling so so alone. She lays a pillow on the floor and tucks little me’s hair behind her ear and kisses her forehead and she goes and sits on the couch behind her.

You are so brave couch me. I didn’t realize it before. You are so kind and smart. You learned how to turn on the tv to help from our mother. Thank you for taking care of us.

But there are other parts of me too. And they have big dreams and convictions and things to get done. Kid me has sparkles of those dreams too though she doesn’t have the words for changing the world yet. She’ll be excited to turn off the tv.

And so there’s a pull from ambitious me, dreamer me, and from ego me too, to get off the couch.

But their hands that used to push her down are now reaching out, welcoming her in, instead.

I love you, couch girl. I love that you know how to make us so cozy. I love how much you love your human stories on tv. I love that you want to keep me safe and that you’re so good at it. I love that you’re sensitive, it’s what makes us good at being a person who cares and who writes.

I have something new for us now. We don’t have to turn on the tv to avoid all the things we are feeling. I know how to sort through those feelings - I can help. We can show little us that she is not alone and that she is safe to be seen. She deserves that. We can keep her safe, don’t worry.

We’re safe to write and publish this substack from the couch. And then, we can get off the couch. I will make sure we’re safe. I appreciate you for giving us the rest and energy that we need. I appreciate that I know you will remind me we need rest again. Keep telling me you need breaks, that’s okay. You can tell me when things are too much. You can tell me when you’re scared. It’s understandable that you’re scared. Things have happened that have crushed your spirit. I have gone ahead without listening to you in the past and it has hurt. You have felt unseen. I understand that you’re sad and I’m not scared of your feelings. And of course we will make time to rest and be cozy still too. I know there’s a balance between listening and and you can trust me that I will find it. People want to see you. I want to see you. I’m glad you’re here. Let’s go together.

With the tv turned off, kid me turns to smile and jumps up with the agile enthusiasm only she still has. She launches herself into couch me’s lap, throws her hands around her neck and plants a kiss on her cheek. She beams. Then she rips off the blanket that we knitted with mom on her couch while watching tv three Christmases ago. Hand in hand, they join the table with my other parts. And we start scheming our great big beautiful future.

Thank You

I started this piece to tell others how to do this - how to forgive couch girl and get off of the couch - but I don’t think I had honestly spoken to couch me until this moment. Or I hadn’t let her speak. I don’t think it happened until right now.

I literally just felt her scoff and LAUGH at me calling her “couch girl” in that last paragraph. I felt her fucking say “rude”. And then Laugh. I don’t know the last time I heard her laugh.

I don’t know how to describe how it good it feels when another part gets to write and then they all end up at the table (or if you’re fancy, call it integration), and today is not the day to try. It’s just. good.

Thanks for being here with us.

This piece is part of a series that I have apparently just started without writing the introduction on Internal Family Systems parts work, which is a type of therapy that really works for me. Stay tuned for more, especially if it resonates with you. If you’re interested in doing this kind of work with me, feel free to reach out.

TL;DR; IJNHNATSMW!

(Too long; didn’t read; I just need help now and there’s so many words!)

How do I love myself?

How do I find purpose?

How do I get out of bed?

You have to forgive the part of you that struggles with depression, you have to stop hating it and wanting to fix it. Instead, with compassion, you try to understand why it’s so sad or scared or hurt. And I bet it’s understandable! Childhood trauma? Makes sense. Fucked up society? Check! And then you love on that part of you like you deserve. Ask them what they need? Treat them like a child (your inner child) - baby them, love on them, give them advice, give them good food and water, ask them what they love to do and do that. The part of you that was wanting to fix your depression and that reached out to find this answer? That part can help your depressed part. They can work together to get out of bed. Your purpose is to live exactly as only you can. We need your energy in this world.