When I was fifteen, I worked as a docent in a historical home. We wore large dresses with hoops under them and took people on tours throughout the house spouting numerous facts and odd tidbits of information. In one of the bedrooms was a fainting couch and while we could not sit on any of the furniture, I would often pantomime a faint complete with back of hand to my brow while showing the room. It was my second favorite room in the mansion.

Sunday night, I probably gave my family food poisoning. It may have been oysters (which my Louisiana friend tells me you only eat in months that have an R, but I said I did and she said they were not harvested then so who knows; feel free to file this under odd tidbit). What I do know is I was very miserable and felt, to quote my mother “like I had been dragged thru the knot hole backwards”. Which I have always wondered about because would it not be bad enough to go through forwards and why backwards? Is it more painful that way? Maybe more splinters?

Anyway, Monday was spent in bed and feeling sorry for ourselves. At one point, we found ourselves back to back under the covers and my husband’s voice said softly “I hope Charlie finds the Golden Ticket” and I snickered. But yes, I felt exactly like that. Grandpa Joe and Grandma Josephine taken to bed by the hardships of life.

Not going to lie, it was hard to get out of bed today. There is a lot of my plate coming up. Stuff that is going to take patience, courage and did I mention patience. It would be so much easier to climb back in that bed and say “After all tomorrow is another day!” I now can see how my mom would crawl into bed and tell me she was too tired to get up. It becomes an emotional tired that makes you physically tired and then just … well takes you to bed with vapors. I wish I had better understood the slippery tentacles of depression back then and maybe have helped more.

If you got out of bed today… good for you! And if not, well tomorrow is another day. Be kind to you and don’t hesitate to reach out for help.

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