There was a boy in my capstone course at BYU who had a depressive disorder. He wouldn't show up to class for a couple of weeks and we'd think he'd dropped and then he'd show up again. The teacher was understanding. He was in my group for one assignment. He never made it to our group meetings.

I don't want to not be able to get out of bed. That's why I cram as many things into my schedule as I can. More things to do means more reasons to get up. Not exactly more things to look forward to. More like more people I'd let down if I stayed in bed all day.

This week I rescheduled my Japanese class so I could lay in bed all evening. I was halfway to the bus stop in the rain and my pants felt weird and clammy on my legs and I stopped and called my teacher and went home. I don't know what I would have done today if it hadn't been "chorus festival," which required me to do nothing more than sit in a dark auditorium for three hours at one in the afternoon.

Naw, I know. I woulda gone to work and taught my classes.

Sometimes I think it's just a matter of time until I stop getting out of bed at all and sometimes I think I'm just trying to fob my laziness off on my brain chemicals.