Wallowing in my own shit

There’s nothing like being off work for 8 months and fucking up your sleeping pattern so badly that you struggle to get up at a reasonable, sociable hour. I know I sound like a right greasy slob right now but lately it really pains me to leave bed. In all honesty this to do with my low mood, being off work and my mild phone addiction avalanching me back into my duvet when I try to escape. Quite often I wake and lay on my side while on my phone. When my phone loses charge I then flip to the other side where the cable is. I tend to spend a few hours doing this before I even set foot out of bed.

I have noticed more than ever the negative effect my phone has on me. Mindlessly and endlessly scrolling Instagram for ever diminishing dopamine hits. I’ve set a 30 minute time reminder for Instagram but I find myself increasingly spending 2 hours on it a day. It’s not just for the pug pictures either. My other issue with Instagram is that it’s quite buggy and a klutz like me finds it all too easy to accidentally post a picture of myself shitting to my story while checking my timeline on the toilet. I’ve had this happen when I dropped my phone while on the toilet before. The picture showed a first person view of me reaching for my phone mouth open and hunched over the bog. The thing is stories don’t immediately update and sometimes and the app needs several refreshes to get them to show so that I can delete the offending post. This is the anxiety that makes me keep checking Instagram. I’m a klutz and I need to be on constant alert.

I never thought I’d be pushing 30 and seriously struggle to get out of bed before midday. I realise to those who have worked consistently throughout life, followed the school-university-work mantra that this may seem alien. I’ve had periods in my life that have required inactivity and hence I’ve fallen into the cosy warm bed trap. It’s meant to be easier to get up earlier as you get older. This hasn’t been the case for me.

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