10 Things I Tell Myself When I Can’t Get Out of Bed
Some mornings feel impossible.
My body is heavy, like I’m sinking into the mattress. My thoughts are loud and tangled. The voice in my head is on a loop, telling me everything that is wrong in my life or that can go wrong today. Even the simplest movement feels like too much. I just want to pull the covers up and pretend all is right in the world.
On those days — the hard ones, the hollow ones, the overwhelmed ones — I reach for these small truths. They’re not magic spells, but sometimes they help me find the edge of the blanket, swing one leg out, and start again.
1. “This has happened before — and I made it through.”
When I wake up feeling like I’m already drowning, I try to remember: this isn’t new. I’ve had days like this — maybe even worse — and I got through them. That doesn’t make today easy, but it reminds me that I’m not broken. I’m surviving. It doesn’t have to look pretty. Once I get any type of forward movement, I usually start to overcome it.
2. “I don’t have to fix everything today.”
My mind loves to hand me a full list of every single thing going wrong in my life — before I’ve even brushed my hair or taken it out of the night braid. It’s overwhelming. So I remind myself: today is not the day to complete every task. I can adjust my list, and the world won’t end. That doesn’t make me a failure — just human. Today might just be about brushing my hair. And even that might happen in the afternoon. That’s okay.
3. “I am allowed to rest.”
There’s a voice in my head that calls me lazy when I’m not moving. But rest isn’t laziness — especially with bipolar disorder. Sometimes my brain and body are in recovery mode, and what looks like doing nothing is actually healing.
The need for rest can be mental, emotional, or physical. I’ve learned that physical exhaustion is often a side effect of emotional or mental stress. At those times, I may need to let my body rest so my mind can process without also trying to “push through.” Sometimes it helps to check if there’s also a physical cause — like a migraine — that’s contributing to the heaviness.
4. “I can choose one small thing.”
When everything feels too big, I zoom in. Can I reach for a glass of water? Check the time? Just one action. Even thinking about getting up can count. That one small thing can be the thread that pulls me out of the fog.
Remembering one thing I need to do that day helps. Maybe I have work, or a doctor’s appointment — but I try not to overwhelm myself with a full to-do list. I focus on one thing I want to do or look forward to — no matter what time of day it happens.
5. “My worth isn’t measured by productivity.”
This one’s hard to hold onto. We live in a world that values output — but on days like this, I feel like I have none. That doesn’t mean I have no value. I am still me, even if I do nothing today.
I am enough. Period.
Not the sum of my accomplishments. Not the value others place on what I do. The world may keep score — but I don’t have to.
6. “Feelings aren’t facts.”
My thoughts can be cruel. They tell me I’m failing, useless, unloved. On better days, I know that’s not true. So on hard days, I remind myself: just because I feel hopeless or invisible doesn’t mean I am.
I don’t have to believe every voice in my head.
This is when affirmations help. I keep a few by my bed, tape one to the bathroom mirror, or even on the ceiling above me — anywhere I can see them when I need reminding.
7. “Medication is part of my strength.”
If I reach for my meds, I count that as a win. It means I haven’t given up. For me, it’s a small step toward fighting the hopelessness.
If I forget or miss a dose, I work hard not to spiral into shame. Medication isn’t a cure — but it’s one of the tools helping me stay in the fight. I’ve also found a few other small boosts that help — like a glass of orange juice. (I’m not sure if it’s the Vitamin C, D, B12, or just psychological — but it helps.)
If your meds are taken at night, it might not be your morning motivator — but even setting them in a visible place helps. I leave mine in the middle of my desk. I can’t check my email without moving them, so I don’t forget.
8. “Someone loves me — even if I can’t feel it right now.”
On numb days, love feels far away. But I remind myself: people care about me. That love doesn’t disappear just because I can’t feel it right now. It’s still there, steady — like a light left on for me.
At one of my lowest points, I called my husband and asked him for one reason to live — and told him it couldn’t be him or our kids. It took years, but I’ve learned to love myself enough for that someone to be me.
With bipolar, I often see my faults clearly, but struggle to see my virtues. So I made a list of the things I like about myself — and I keep it close.
9. “This is not forever.”
Bipolar means living with shifts — and that includes knowing the darkness doesn’t last forever. My mind might convince me this feeling will never pass. But it always does.
I look back at my journal or remember other times I made it through. I don’t romanticize the mania that sometimes follows, but I can find comfort in the balance between cycles — and trust that light finds its way back.
10. “Getting up doesn’t have to mean everything.”
Sometimes I think getting out of bed means doing the whole day — being productive, being social, being “on.” But it doesn’t have to mean that.
Getting up might just mean moving to the couch. Brushing my hair. Opening a window. That’s enough.
And if I end up back in bed later? That’s okay too. A nap isn’t failure. It’s not giving up on myself. It’s just part of how I care for my body and my brain.
Conclusion: Be Gentle, Keep Going
Some days, these reminders help. They bring a little light into the morning and get me moving, even if it’s slow. Other days, they don’t work at all. And that’s part of the reality too.
There are times when staying in bed isn’t laziness or defeat — it’s a signal. It might be the beginning of a depressive episode, a sign of physical illness, or just my body asking for deep rest. The key is not turning that into shame.
If you can’t get out of bed today, it doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human. Be gentle with yourself. Don’t give up. It might take a few minutes, a few hours, or more — but that moment of movement will come.
And if you do have responsibilities — like a job or caregiving — that push you out of bed, it doesn’t mean the mental weight disappears. Getting up might be necessary, but that “stay in bed” feeling can still linger all day. You’re not alone in that.
So if today is a hard day, take what you need. Whisper something kind to yourself. Start again when you can.
You’re still here. And that’s everything.