Bedrest for 1.5 Years
How nothing was significant during my break
I lived without many of life’s necessities for 1.5 years and felt like I didn’t miss out on anything at the end of it.
For 1.5 years of my life, I was in bedrest due to my depression. Long story short, I couldn’t do anything but sleep on my bed and get trapped in my thoughts. During that time, I didn’t have a phone and a computer. I had a stash of cash. I had my family with me for the first time in years (I escaped to avoid their abuse). Surprisingly, the only thing bothering me was myself. All I had at the time was myself. I was just confined by the shackles of my own mental prison.
During those 1.5 years, I realized how insignificant many things in life are. Having the technology wasn’t going to get me out of the situation or save me. If they were, why haven’t they before? Even after years of researching and investigating my mental illnesses, nothing could have saved me from several traumas that knocked me out. What could technology do for me?
I quickly realized that the notion of a support system could be absolutely futile for someone at their extreme worst like I was. When I am stuck in bedrest for weeks at a time, no social support can get me out of it. Kind words? Compliments? Words of solace? None of those will work. If they were to work, they would’ve worked when my supporters had been telling and reminding me of my merits for years.
I soon realized that even money was useless. I had a stash of cash in my bedroom, and it was just meaningless. I don’t think I even looked at it more than once because it was insignificant. There was no value to it. If money could’ve solved my problems, then why didn’t it solve my problems already? Paying for therapy got me nowhere. Paying to read books and take courses to learn about my mental health did nothing for me. Even paying to escape my abusive family for over 4 years did nothing for me. What could money have done to help me?
No career could’ve been meaningful. No job could’ve changed my mental health. It might build my self-worth. It might build a social network for me. It might build me many things, but nothing at a job could cure me of my mental health… unless the job was intended to research about mental health.
At the end of the day, I lived 1.5 years without the most basic necessities that most people would be afraid to live without. When I came back, I realized I missed out on nothing.
Upon coming back, sure there were different people in my life but they were all pining for the same things. Money, career, love, friends, better health, and other universal goals. The only thing that happened was the stock market going up and down, the clock moving forward, people shifting phases in life, so what has happened really? It’s different people doing the same things.
I even went back on the same path of building a career again, thinking I’d approach it differently. Guess what? When the priority wasn’t my mental health, I got nowhere with my goals. Why? It wasn’t that I couldn’t achieve my goals. Achieving those goals meant nothing when my mental health wouldn’t get better. I turned things down once again. What is the point of another high-paying job when my mental health is still in ashes?
I was trapped in a cycle that I am still desperately trying to break out of now. It doesn’t matter how much society asserts that money, love, whatever is the goal of life. Absolutely nothing means anything when your mental health is gone. You can’t enjoy the goal. Who cares if you can even achieve it?