livingwithablackdog

I want George Jetson’s bed.

The one that stands him up and deposits him on a conveyor belt when the alarm clock goes.

It then takes him straight to the shower to be washed (and wake up properly!) before it progresses through an area where he is dried and finally, his clothing put on.

It’s the hardest part of starting any day.

The most impressive thing is that this idea is universal enough to have become a very popular part of the opening theme of a television cartoon series (… at least for all you generation X-ers out there).  Everybody could identify with it.

Getting out of bed and preparing to face the day is not easy.

It’s not just George who needs a bit of help.  How many shows and movies show people being “encouraged” out of bed in the morning by way of a bucket of water? A swift removal of the covers? Somebody violently shaking them and calling their name?

How often do you see people portrayed stumbling to the shower in the morning, still half asleep?

Sometimes I think that its easy to forget that difficulty in the mornings is not just something that came with the onset of Depression or under the influence of medication.

It was always hard for me – since my teens.

It has always been more appealing to stay in a nice, warm bed than to move and get to the point where I am heading off to work or school, to uni or some appointment somewhere.  Especially the things that are compulsory – even the ones I enjoy.

Sure I think it’s sometimes harder than it used to be – but sometimes, when I’m not really depressed, I wonder just how much.  I just have another reason to add to the others when it comes down to it.  The reason is real … but the issue itself isn’t new.

Sometimes I wonder if I look at the period before I was hit with depression wearing a nice and sparkly pair of rose-coloured glasses.  After all, if I have gotten to the point where the idea of “normal” is strange, who’s to say that I’d even recognise what was once “normal” for me if it hit me on the head.

The truth is that despite the fact that this illness does affect my energy levels; despite the fact that my medication can slow my system down and make me drowsy; despite the fact that there are days where I feel really unmotivated (and by the way I, like most people had my share of those before I had Depression); despite the fact that I have less in my day …

I’m not sure that I could say with any confidence that getting up and ready for the day was ever something I greeted with enthusiasm …. beyond perhaps birthdays, Christmas and special events as a kid.

I don’t struggle with mornings because I have depression.

I just struggle with mornings.

… a little like a big chunk of the rest of the population.

But I still want a bed like George Jetson.

(… and I’m not the only one!)