The Week I Ghosted Myself
I did it again. I found myself stuck—unmotivated, overwhelmed, and depressed—and ended up spending nearly an entire week in bed. An entire week of ghosting myself.
It all began with an emotional therapy session. The moment I logged out of the Zoom call, I crawled into bed and didn’t get up. What I thought would be a quick nap turned into an all-day sleep. I woke up at 8 p.m. and immediately felt disappointed in myself for wasting my entire Monday. Despite having slept all day, I still felt exhausted. I told myself I’d try again tomorrow, that maybe I’d feel better after a full night of sleep. Wishful thinking.
The next morning, I didn’t wake up until 11 a.m.—completely out of character for me. I’m usually up before 7, done with my workout, and ready for the day by 11. Not today. I woke up frustrated. Upset that I hadn’t gotten up early. Upset that I was repeating the same pattern from the day before. Part of me knew I could turn things around. I still had time to salvage the day—to work out, get things done, but I began to feel debilitatingly depressed. Even showering and getting dressed felt impossible. My anxiety was screaming at me, reminding me of everything I hadn’t done and everything still looming over me. But I couldn’t move. So I didn’t. I continued to lie in bed, doom-scrolling, napping, waking up, and doing it all over again.
I hate to admit it, but that was how I spent my entire week. Monday through Thursday, I stayed in bed. Every day, I felt worse about myself. I couldn’t believe I had let it happen again. I had been doing so well. I’d been showing up for myself, sticking to my routine, and felt genuinely happy. And then suddenly, I wasn’t. I felt angry, sad, disappointed, and helpless.
Lying in bed Thursday night, something shifted. I had a moment of clarity. It’s time to stop the cycle. It was time to pick myself back up. I realized I hadn’t reached out to anyone all week. Not a single friend, not my family, no one in my support system knew how badly I was struggling. When you’re in it, you’re in so deep that even asking for help feels out of reach. I let my thoughts convince me that I was a burden, that I shouldn’t “make a big deal” out of how I was feeling. I told myself I shouldn’t bother anyone with my problems. I knew getting back into my routine would help, but I just couldn’t find the strength to do it.
Then came Friday morning. I miraculously woke up early, went to the gym, and almost immediately felt like myself again. The fog began to lift. I remembered how good exercise makes me feel—physically, mentally, and emotionally. I texted a few friends and told them what I’d been going through. And just like that, the momentum started to build again. I was back to my routine; back to feeling like me.
The following Monday, I told my therapist about the week I’d had. I kept saying, “I don’t know what happened….I don’t know why I was so tired and lazy this week.” She gently reminded me of something so obvious that I had completely missed: sometimes, your body knows before your mind catches up. That overwhelming exhaustion? That was my body asking—begging—for rest, and I clearly needed to honor that.
This week reminded me that healing is the opposite of linear. Even when you think you’re doing all the right things—going to therapy, staying active, checking in with yourself—there will still be moments when it all catches up with you. That does not mean you’ve failed or taken steps backward. It just means you’re human.
Sometimes, your body will ask for rest in ways that feel uncomfortable and inconvenient. And sometimes, the hardest thing to do is to give yourself grace in those moments. I’m learning that allowing yourself to pause isn’t weakness—it’s part of the work.
If you’re going through a hard week (or month), I hope you know that you’re not alone. The fog does lift. The energy does come back, and when it does, you’ll pick yourself back up—not because you have to, but because deep down, you want to. That version of you is still there, waiting patiently for your return.
