Ever voluntarily taken to your bed?

Today I was lamenting the demise of the custom of “taking to one’s bed” as a protest against – you name it. Mainly overwork, but also emotional shocks.

My great-grandmother did this at times; I’m sure it was quite an effective protest, as her alcoholic husband couldn’t begin to cook for himself, let alone their five kids (if he even cared to). Overwork was her reason, I believe. My grandmother, her daughter, also did this over emotional shocks. When I broke up with my ex-fiance back in 1991, she “took to her bed” for three days in protest at my effrontery. :wink:

Anyone else know someone who still does this? Do you do this? Why, when, and for how long?
There are times when I’d certainly like to do it! :smiley:

Mrs. Furthur

Alas, what ever happened to those gentile days.

Perhaps I shall excuse myself shortly and take vapours before pouring myself a night cap and retiring to my chambers for the evening.

:smiley:

No, but my father’s wife has “heart palpitations” any time someone disagrees with her. :rolleyes: Despite her numerous “heart attacks” (as she refers to them) she still chokes down to packs of king-sized cancer sticks a day and drinks untold pots of coffee.

She also does the Scarlet O’Hara thing to a tee. I wish she’d “talk to bed”…and stay there, permenantly. I’d brick up the door, Cask of Amontillado-style.

Your great-grandmother sounds more justified, though.

Stranger

Perhaps I shall don my smoking jacket and savor my pipe in the drawing room while regaling my guests with an impromtu oratory on Virgil’s minor works.

gasp

You can DO THAT?!?!

Here I’ve been taking everyone’s crap for no reason!

(Seriously. Usually even when I’m legitimately sick I have to fix dinner and do laundry and find the tv remote for the other before can I take some NyQuil and pass out.)

Erm…well, I basically took to my bed for a week in the fall due to depression, if that’s what you mean. I guess you could call it a protest against school, though something tells me my professors didn’t give a shit one way or another. I’m not proud, and it damn near did me in in a lot of ways.

I’m sure my mother wanted to do the same many times in her life but responsibility always got the better of her–she had three kids and a housework-averse husband to take care of. I have a lot to learn from that woman.

I take to my bed–voluntarily–once a day, in protest of the world’s affronts. About seven or eight hours later, I relent and am ready to take it on again.

I do that once in a while, usually for 1-3 hours, in response to some imagined slight around the household. Then I feel better and come crawling out and then sometimes I get a back rub or some hot chocolate for my trouble.

Oy vey. ;j

As for the OP, it sounds like a great idea. Um, OK, I actually have pretty much stayed in bed all day, say, on a Sunday of bad weather and a good book. Yes., very bad.

Voluntarily taken to my bed…

Lets see. There was this girl I met at the bar. We hit it off and went back to my place. Popped in a movie, one thing led to another…

And that’s how I met my future wife, six years and a day ago.

But it appears that’s not what you meant by being taken voluntarily to bed. :wink:

Isn’t that the old-fashioned version of mental health days?

Well, there was this one time I lost my cable-access daily affirmations show, then took to my bed for three days with a case of Fig Newtons until my four 12-step-group sponsors showed up at the door to get me out . . .

Oh, gee. I took to my bed for about eight months when I was about twelve. It doesn’t really matter what they called it; I did everything I could to prolong it, and I suffered the shock of getting back on the big merry-go-round afterward. I shouldn’t have, but there seem few other choices when you are twelve and in an absolutely untenable situation.

I can do it again, anytime. I haven’t wanted to since… not enough to actually do it.

That’ll soon cause you to break the habit. :slight_smile:

I took to my bed for a week in 1992. I’d lost a job that I loved due to budget shortfalls, my husband wasn’t being particularly kind to me due to his own work stresses, my mother was in ill health, my sister’s marriage was falling apart and she was unloading on me because there was no one else for her, our church congregation was splitting down the middle over the most esoteric and ridiculous of reasons and I was not getting pregnant and very angry about it.

I came home from my last day at work, went into the guest room, locked the door, drew the shades, unplugged the phone and the clock, and didn’t come out for six days. It was very restorative. I also lost five pounds. I didn’t particularly need to lose them, but it made a beautiful Donna Karan skirt fit perfectly, and I wore it when I emerged and went to a great dinner with my husband, who stopped being mean to me when he realized how devastated I’d become.

No, never.

I can’t even comprehend this, to be honest. What does it do for you? Doesn’t doing this make you more depressed? I should point out that I am an eternal optimist, albeit a realist.

Living without sunshine? I think I’d rather die.

To some extent I do.

Whenever I have something difficult to adjust to - a significant loss, that sort of thing, I find I do best alone, in the dark, under the covers. A few hours or days later, I will feel the weight of whatever I was carrying shift, and then I know it’s time to rejoin the rest of the world.

My mother does this sometimes, usually when she is losing a big argument with my sister. However, since it is no fun to take to one’s bed when no one notices, she usually calls friends and family to tell them she is so upset she has had to take to her bed. Somehow, this ruins the drama for me.

I’m less of a Drama Queen (though not entirely free of Drama Queenness) so I’ve never actually done it myself.

I do sometimes wish I could take to my bed. Or better yet, take the celebrity route- I imagine myself walking into the hospital, saying “I’m exhausted” and being checked in for a week or two of being waited on hand and foot. If stars can do it, why can’t I? I AM exhausted, you know.
But nooooo… I have to actually work and take care of my short people. It’s just not fair sometimes.

“It’s enough to make me take to my bed”, is one of my favorite expressions. I’ve never done it, but being gay and all, I can certainly appreciate the drama of it. :smiley: