“I’ve been in bed for 6 days.
If I wasn’t working, I was here—sometimes in the dark, sometimes with the TV on, sometimes crying, sometimes staring at nothing.
Hours blurred into days. Was it 8 p.m.? 3 a.m.? Did I nap or just go blank? I couldn’t tell anymore.
And yet every morning, I still painted on my face. I went to work. I smiled. I made small talk. Nobody knew.
Then I came home, threw on the same clothes I’ve been wearing for days, crawled back in bed, and shut the world out. Because wearing that mask all day is exhausting. And I was so, so tired.
Last night, Donald finally cracked me. He found me in bed again and asked gently, “Are you sick?”
I broke down.
“I’m not sick how you think,” I cried, “but please treat me like I am.”
And he understood. Immediately. Because depression is sickness. It’s just in the brain, not the body.
And with that shift—he cared for me like I was ill. Brought food. Made sure I drank water. Cuddled me. Reminded me it would pass. And for the first time in days, I got out of bed for a little while.
👉 If you have a spouse, a friend, a daughter, anyone battling depression—treat them like they’re sick. Because they are.
Bring them food.
Keep them hydrated.
Run them a bath.
Put on their favorite movie.
Just love them.
Because like the flu, this too will pass. They WILL get out of bed again. They WILL be okay again. Promise.”
*** Taylor Paige Fluharty ***