Out of bed, out of mind.

The bed is a dangerous place.

In a way, we all already know this. For me, it’s a form of catharsis to be able to expunge all this crap onto you. But the bed, shock horror, is a paralyzing entity. It grabs on to you. It pulls you in. It keeps you lethargic.

We know that we shouldn’t work in bed, eat in bed, read in bed, relax in bed, or any other form of activity apart from sleep and sex. It’s supposedly a way of creating a routine out of your daily schedule in order to improve your sleep. I cannot comment on this. My sleep is relatively stable, and I spend days in bed. That isn’t an exaggeration, either.

The bed, as aforementioned, sucks you in. For me, it’s in it’s full swing at the moment. My bed is my desk, my dining table, my sofa and my computer chair. It’s where I relax, work, eat and sleep. Hardly healthy is it? I should try and vary my routine. Yet I stay in bed. Why?

Is it, from my own gut feeling, that it’s convenient (lazy) to do everything from one space? I cook downstairs, I walk to town daily, I try and keep my exercise levels up. I do mostly normal banal things, yet gravitate towards my bed. Is it a comfort thing? Can’t say I’m comfortable working in bed. If anything it’s a hindrance as it limits my mobility, ability to take breaks and socialise.

Being in bed all day is not good for your mental health. Yet I remain. My mental health fluctuates, and sometimes I spend more time in bed than other times.I suppose it’s a ‘comfort zone’ issue, in its base. I know I should try and ‘expand’ where I work, eat, relax etc. I should work at cafes, libraries. Relax in the kitchen or living room and eat at the table.

I can’t say I feel depressed, but I might be. It might be why I’m writing this in bed right now, at around 11am on a Friday morning. I can say ‘who knows?’ all I like, but in truth, I should simply follow my ACT advice and do something meaningful to change my attitude.

Therefore the obvious solution is to burn every bed in the world.

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