Instead, I took to my bed. That used to be an expression, you know? Someone becomes ill and he takes to his bed. I was sick for awhile (still on antibiotics) and I had to take to my bed. I had a fever to the point of chills. The last time that I happened was in sixth grade. I wasn’t getting better so I gave in and got antibiotics. And then as I was getting better, my feet flew out from under me and I fell. I took to my bed.
I love my bed.
I’m an extrovert. I really am. But I am also one of those extroverts that needs quite a bit of alone time compared to a lot of other extroverts (sometimes I hate these labels because people are people and we don’t always fit in boxes but let us just use them here for the sake of brevity). Because of that and because of a chronic illness that includes pain that requires rest, I tend to take to my bed. I am writing this from bed. Which I have taken to. I have so many emails to reply to and things to accomplish. I have a lot to do and today (Monday) I don’t have the luxury not to do these things anymore because I need to make rent.
So my bed is my safe place. We all need one. I turn on a white noise app and I turn off the sound off on my phone and one doesn’t see me on social media all that much. When I take to my bed (because it can happen without a fall or illness), it’s because I need a break. I need a safe place. Excuse the pun, but I need a soft place to fall.
When this world is going crazy and the news makes me angry and sad and lonely, I talk to God.
I used to take to my bed. I used to come home from work and immediately take off my bra (too much?) and just collapse on my bed very dramatically and not move unless it was to call Jimmy John’s (that last part had to stop because the guy knew me a little too well).
I do not always carry the load well. I used to be too tired to talk (or at least that is what I told myself). In truth, I felt as if all the words in the world had dried up long ago. I knew He listened but for a lot of reasons it did not feel like a safe place anymore. It wasn’t Him and I knew it. It was me. It was that I had relationships with other Christians that became emotionally unsafe and even though I know Christians are imperfect, I had a trust issue. But He is always trustworthy. He is always safe. Now, I pray in the shower, from my bed, as I am walking…when I am doing a number of things. It’s not always possible to take to our beds in order to feel safe or comforted or to just quiet the noise in this difficult world. For me, it’s been like having laryngitis and slowly getting my voice back. It was a little awkward at first but it’s working out just fine. I had to carry things a bit differently. I had to let Him carry me.