Rotting vs Composting

We’ve all heard the phrase “rotting in bed.” I’ve used it myself — texting friends from my desk about weekend plans, picturing a duvet sanctuary. Hair piled high, bonnet on, covers pulled to my ears. Scrolling the day away, avoiding reality.

It’s become shorthand for modern burnout, especially among women, femmes, and people in caretaking roles. The world is a mess, and we want out. But dying is too final, and asking for a medically induced coma is, well… complicated. So we rot instead.

But what if there was another way?

What if instead of rotting, we microhermitted?

What Is Microhermitting?

I like to think of Microhermitting as the practice of intentional, small-scale withdrawal. It’s stepping away - not forever, not dramatically - but purposefully. It’s recognising when you need space and taking it, rather than waiting until you inevitably collapse.

Think of it as controlled solitude. Chosen quiet or a sacred pause.

You can microhermit in two ways: you can rot, or you can compost.

Rotting vs Composting: The Two Ways to Microhermit

The term “bed rotting” came from Gen Z internet culture - TikTok mostly - to describe staying in bed for long stretches doing absolutely nothing. Think snacks, streaming and doomscrolling. You’re not sick and you’re not asleep, you’re just taking an hour or 48 to yourself.

But the act itself isn’t new… Dr Alice Vernon (a lecturer in Creative Writing and 19th-Century Literature) wrote in The Conversation,  about how we’ve been doing this for centuries, even the Victorians turned the concept into fine art. The term might be new, but the impulse is ancient.

Rotting is a response to a life that demands too much. It speaks to burnout, overstimulation, and the quiet protest of opting out, even if only for a day. Humans love comfort, we’re always seeking out warmth, safety and familiarity, so when the world is too loud retreating to bed feels like a biological urge.

But Here’s What I’ve Been Thinking About

There’s a difference between intentional rest and the kind of shutdown that mimics it. According to research on nervous system states - particularly Polyvagal Theory - what we call “rotting” might actually be the body entering a state of collapse.

So when we say we’re rotting, we might be hiding deeper needs like: grief, overstimulation or unresolved fatigue. We might be dressing up our depletion in cute pyjamas and calling it self-care.

But then again, not everyone who bed rots is depressed. Burnout and depression often overlap, but they’re not the same. Some of us are simply tired 

from capitalism, 

from caregiving, 

from constant performance. 

And we haven’t been given many tools for intentional rest.

True rest should leave you feeling somewhat restored Does bed rotting actually do that? Or do we wake up feeling just as rubbish?

What If We Microhermitted by Composting Instead?

Here’s where my mind went: what if these slow, soft, blurry days in bed when done intentionally aren’t about collapse, but transformation?

What if instead of rotting, we composted?

Compost isn’t pretty. It isn’t really anything much to look at. But it’s alive, it’s warm, and it breaks things down to build something richer.

Maybe your stillness is rearranging you? Maybe your body needs a season to metabolise all the grief, noise, and beauty it’s been asked to carry.

The difference isn’t in what it looks like from the outside. The difference is in what’s on the inside. Are you numbing or are you nourishing? Avoiding or processing? Collapsing or are you composting?

What Composting Could Look Like

Composting means something is breaking down so something else can grow. You’re not hiding from your life, instead, you’re preparing for the next season of it.

Maybe that means you light incense before you settle in.

Maybe it’s putting your phone in another room. 

Maybe it’s actually drinking the water you poured hours ago 

Maybe it’s letting yourself feel whatever’s coming up instead of scrolling it away.

You might tell someone you trust what you’re doing, so they know you’re not disappearing 

Or maybe you keep it entirely to yourself.

 So Here’s My Quiet Invitation

We live in a system that demands we justify, track and perform our rest. Even when we try to rest, we end up explaining why we deserve it.

 

What if we chose microhermitting instead? 

What if we stepped away with intention?

If you need to disappear, disappear.  

If you need to stop, stop. 

 

But don’t rot out of resignation.  

Microhermit with purpose.  

Compost, don’t collapse.

Let it be messy.  

Let it be slow.  

Let it feed the next version of you.

Strike a match.  

Light the incense.  

Let the world wait.

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Next in the series: Why performance fatigue is real, and why retreating to recharge can be survival.

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