bed rot
Also bed-rot . to spend many hours in bed during the day, often with snacks or an electronic device, as a voluntary retreat from activity or stress: Feeling the need to bed rot doesn’t always mean you're depressed.The first time I ever bed rotted was when I was 18 and had just broken up with my boyfriend.
the practice or an instance of spending many hours in bed during the day, often with snacks or an electronic device, as a voluntary retreat from activity or stress: People in certain professions may be particularly susceptible to bed rot because of how demanding their jobs are.There's nothing wrong with a good bed rot now and then.
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Victor lay in bed and looked up at the ceiling. He knew he should not be in bed. It may have been Saturday, but he had things around the house to do. Heather would need his help with things. Besides, he would need to get food sometime. He rolled over, aiming to get out of bed.
“What’re you doing?”
Victor froze. Heather stood, arms crossed, in the doorway. She gave him a look that was equal parts annoyance, frustration, and concern. How she managed that, he would never know.
“Getting up. There’s things to do. I need to deal with lunch, at least.”
“No. No, you don’t. Today, you don’t do any of that. Today, you stay in bed and let me take care of everything.”
“But I—”
“No buts. You park your butt on that bed and tell me what you want. I’ll take care of everything.”
Victor groaned, but lay back down. It was useless to argue with her. She was too stubborn to relent easily. She sighed and sat down next to him.
“Look, I know it isn’t easy for you. I know you like to keep busy. But after yesterday, you need this. You need to take a day off. Play some games, watch some movies. Do anything other than think about work.”
“Yesterday wasn’t that bad.”
“Vic, you damn near had a full-blown panic attack. I saw your mind start to snap. It’s a wonder you didn’t blow up and start screaming at people just for existing.”
He wanted to refute that. But he knew she was right. He had wanted to chew his boss’s head off when he had gotten another person’s assignment plopped onto him. And while Heather was visiting on her downtime too. He was not in a good headspace after that.
“I…Is just sitting here really going to help?”
“For one day? No. For several days? Yes. Vic, honey, trust me, you need rest. And no, going to sleep doesn’t count. There’s a difference between sleep and rest. Hell, you barely get enough sleep, let alone proper rest. Sitting here doing nothing is just what the doctor ordered. And I do mean that literally.”
“One of the benefits of being married to a psychiatrist, huh?”
“Damn right. Now lay back down. Don’t think about work. Forget you even have a job. Just turn your brain off and do some of those mindless activities we used to do when we were still dating. Remember those? Actually fun things that didn’t involve risking a panic attack every day?”
“Vaguely. Which I guess is the point, right?”
“One of them, yes. Now just chill out and let me get you some lunch. And don’t let me catch you out and about. You need a day off your feet.”
She stood and headed out of the room. She poked her head back in the doorway, but didn’t say anything, just to remind him that she was there. He chuckled as she disappeared. He sighed and closed his eyes. Maybe she was right. Maybe a day or two of letting himself unwind was best. He certainly needed it. Life would catch up to him eventually, but for now none of it mattered.
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Mental health is just as important as physical health. Remember that and take a day or two to just relax and unwind. Let the stress of living go. At least for a little while.
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