I rose from sleep slowly, no alarm to pull me into consciousness. The morning sun shone into the room, but no strip fell onto my face. Instead it illuminated the bedroom in a fuzzy soft glow. The sheets were soft, wrapped around me, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort, but the other side of the bed was cold. There was a vague recollection of an alarm sounding sometime earlier that morning, but it hadn’t fully broken through my sleep.
I reached for my phone to check the time. 9:15am. A perfectly acceptable amount of sleep. So why did I feel so listless?
There was nothing time-critical to do today but there were certainly tasks on my to-do list. The thought of actually getting out of bed to accomplish them, however, gave me the overwhelming urge to cry. Surely I could stay here just a little bit longer (or all day?).
I drifted in and out of awareness for an indeterminable amount of time. Eventually I grew restless. The overwhelming feeling I had at the prospect of getting up was warring with the building anxiety of wasting the day. My limbs felt like lead, like it would take an insurmountable effort to move even one of them. My mind, though, was racing, a million and one thoughts, fears and lists cycling though my head too fast to work through but staying just long enough to add to a growing list. Without my knowledge, a few tears leaked out.
My indecision was only resolved when the gnawing hunger in my stomach grew enough to be the predominant thought in my head.
With a sigh so heavy and loud I couldn’t believe it came from me, I struggled my way out of the tangle of bedding and stumbled to the kitchen.
I stared at the fridge and then the cupboard, uninspired by the contents of both. I knew I needed to eat, but nothing seemed appealing. Just as the kettle boiled, I settled on an easy breakfast; cereal. I poured some from the box into a bowl and then tipped half my coffee into the bowl as well.
I ate mechanically, not really tasting my food and flicking though news articles and other media uncomprehendingly. I lost track of time and without realising, I had been sitting at the kitchen table for almost an hour, coffee long since finished and still in my pyjamas. A voice that sounded like all the people who had ever said that I was wasting my life roared to life in the back of my head, reminding me of all the things I could have done in that time.
Dejectedly I stood and snagged a pen and some scrap paper from the kitchen bench. After tapping the pen on my lips a couple of times I started a list. I would write down things to do today and then I could hopefully feel some sort of sense of achievement as I crossed things off. I wasn’t making huge plans for myself, just simple things; shower, dress, clean last night’s dishes, go downstairs and check the mail. I contemplated adding something about making dinner to the list, but in the end just the thought was too much and I left it off. If I got more energy, I could always add the extra things I did just to cross them off.
Showering was a quick affair, knowing that if I didn’t hurry myself through it I would waste time, and likely use all the hot water in one go. Dressing was a similarly quick affair, track pants and yesterday’s hoodie thrown on. At least this would cross two tasks off the list. There was no expected sense of accomplishment or relief as lines went through those tasks. Just a sense of foreboding about the two tasks still unchecked.
It wasn’t as though there were many dishes to do, no mountains of crockery or stacks of cookware. The plates had gone into the dishwasher along with the cutlery. All that was left were two pots and our cups with the dregs of tea sitting in the bottom.
‘You can do this,’ I said to myself as I approached the sink.
‘You can do this,’ I repeated as the hot water filled the sink and bubbles of detergent started swirling.
‘It’s just a few pots, YOU can do it,’ I told myself once more as I moved the first item into the hot water. The time seemed to drag on as I scrubbed the remnants of curry and rice from their respective pots. As I rested the dishes in the drip tray, I knew that I could pick up the towel and dry them. It would take very little extra time to dry them and put them away. And, any other day, I would have. But today the effort needed was overwhelming and they would dry well enough where they were. The list only said to wash the dishes, so I could cross the task off.
Despite it only being a few hours since I had breakfast, and despite an entire lack of hunger, I threw two pieces of toast in the toaster. I rested my head against the oven until they were toasted. No one could say that toast and butter was a particularly healthy lunch but the alternative was nothing, and at least the dry bread made me drink a glass of water. I knew somewhere in the back of my head that water was important and more water would definitely improve matters, but cold water wasn’t as comforting as a mug of hot chocolate or a nice cup of black tea.
I could feel the heaviness settling in my bones again, the little momentum I had gathered waning. I took a stuttering breath in, willing the clouds that felt like they were gathering over my head to dissipate. When that didn’t really work, an invisible band instead tightening around my chest, I slowly counted to ten. I promised myself that when I reached the end, regardless of how I felt, I would get up. There was only one task left on my list, only one thing out of a pathetic four tasks that still needed doing. Maybe the fresh air would help, I reasoned.
I kept repeating that over and over until I reached the letter box at the front of the apartment. There were only a few letters waiting for us; no bills at least, mostly catalogues and vouchers for take out.
The sun was nice, gently warming my face, and the air felt lighter somehow than the air I had been trying to breathe inside. It couldn’t hurt to just sit on the front steps for a moment or two. There was some sort of relief to it. I didn’t exactly feel good or happy, but the fog in my head lifted just a bit and the heaviness in my whole being lightened a little. It was easy to sit there; resting against the brick and watching the clouds drift across the blue sky. My mind drifted along with the fluffy clouds, and not for the first time that day, I lost time.
The numb feeling from sitting on hard brick for too long was what brought my attention back to the present. The sun had dipped lower in the sky and the chill of the evening was growing in the air. The watery sunlight no longer lifted my mood, instead it made me realise the day was drawing to a close and I hardly had anything to show for it.
Shakily I pulled myself to my feet and trudged back inside, mail gripped tightly in my hand. Once back inside our apartment, I dropped the letters in a pile on the table, next to the pitifully short to-do list I had created. At the very least I could put the pen to paper and draw a line through the last task. Then, in a very small burst of enthusiasm, I scrawled ‘Put dishes away’ down and made a line through that note too. Pots went into the cupboard under the stove and the two mugs were carefully placed back into their cupboard.
The burst of energy left me as suddenly as it came and I sagged against the kitchen bench. I could list ten things that I could be and should be doing without even trying. But I knew I wasn’t going to do them today.
‘Have you tried turning it off and on again?’ floated though my brain. Maybe, just maybe that could stop the downward spiral of apathy that I’d well and truly sunk into. I knew that for it to be truly effective I should nap, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to fall asleep. I was lethargic and restless all at once, mind and limbs too heavy to carry out any tasks of worth. But I was anxious, my soul was jittery and on edge. There was no chance of a quick nap and little hope for a good night’s rest either if this continued.
Looking at the clock, I figured I had time for a shower at the least. The hot water might wake me enough to pull me out of whatever this was.
The water, once I was under it, felt like a warm embrace and the rhythmic tapping of the drops against my body was soothing. Even the sound of the fan, loud enough to drown out my thoughts as well as the outside world, was welcome. I turned the water up hot and sat on the shower floor, head bowed so the water didn’t run into my eyes.
It was like this that my partner found me. I hadn’t heard him enter or call my name over the sounds in the bathroom. I only looked up when I heard the bathroom door open, relaxing when I saw the familiar face.
“Hey,” he said to me gently, only just loud enough to be heard.
“Hey,” I replied, ducking my head as water dripped into my eyes.
He pushed the shower screen open a little and sat on the foot mat. I could tell he was searching my face, trying to tell if the rivulets of water were from the shower or if they were tear tracks.
“Are you feeling okay?” he asked me, the note of worry clear in his voice.
“I’m fine,” I said, “It’s just…” I trailed off, waving my hand in the air vaguely.
“A sitting down in the shower day?” He finished the sentence for me.
“Yea,” I agreed. “It’s just a sitting down in the shower kind of day.”
It was silent for a few moments, save the sound of water hitting tiles and the unending whir of the bathroom fan.
“How about I order Thai and we share a bottle of wine in front of the telly?” He asked me, pulling my thoughts back to the here and now.
“Tofu stir fry? And prawn toast?” I asked hopefully.
“Whatever you want, darling,” he promised as he stood up. “Just so long as you’re out of the shower and dressed when the food arrives.”
His tone was soft and kind, no judgement even though it must have been glaringly obvious how little I had done all day. I couldn’t remember if I’d made the bed after I had finally dragged myself out of it.
I knew approximately how long it took for the food to arrive and I knew that if I wanted to be ready when it did, I would have to leave the comfort of the shower very soon.
As I toweled off, wringing water from my dripping hair, it occurred to me that maybe he knew that too. That it’d been his way of getting me up and out of the shower without pushing. I couldn’t be upset, not really. It was for my own good; and warm food, a glass of wine and cuddles were waiting for me just outside the bathroom door. Knowing that didn’t fix anything, but it certainly made things better. Even the tedious task of blow drying my hair seemed that little bit less excruciatingly boring.
I walked out to find I’d timed everything perfectly. The food hadn’t quite arrived, but that meant that it gave me time to relax into the couch and take a sip of the wine that was already poured into a glass waiting for me.
The way my partner’s eyes lit up and face softened when I walked into the kitchen made my heart stutter almost painfully. Dressed in an overly large jumper and track pants with my hair frizzy despite drying it, I knew I didn’t look even close to my best. Yet he still looked at me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever seen. I don’t know what I did to deserve that, to deserve him, but I’ll accept it all the same.
He pulled me into his arms, holding me with his cheek rested on my head until I felt myself relax. The clouds, the restlessness, the heaviness, all of it melted and started to slowly seep away.
We stayed like that until there was a knock at the door, the food having arrived. Carefully, he let go of me, breaking away after he placed a feather soft kiss to my forehead. I hadn’t even noticed my lips had lifted into a fond smile until he returned, take out in one hand and a smile to match my own.
And sitting on the couch later; pressed side by side, empty take out containers on the coffee table and a glass of wine held loosely in my hand, I realised I almost felt normal again. This hadn’t fixed whatever had happened in my brain, hadn’t solved the problem. There would still be days like this in the future, and this might not work every time. But I had someone who understood, who was there and who would try even if it didn’t work.
“I’m fine,” I whispered into his shoulder, my face pressed into the juncture of his neck. If he felt the smile against his skin, he didn’t say anything.
The arm around me though, tugged just that little bit tighter.
