The Funk...and Then Some

Sometimes I get in a funk. Sometimes I know why. And sometimes I don't. But it's there just the same, gnawing away at my insides, leaving me unmotivated, uninterested, and generally feeling...funkified.

I have an acronym to go with this idea. I made it up one day. Impressive, I know.

This is it:

PSFS.
Short for Post-Stress Funkification Syndrome.

It happens after long periods of stress subside,
Or when people you know move away, 
Or when you've had company for a week and a half and even though you're a little glad they've gone you feel a little empty, 
Or after the holidays you worked so hard for are over, 
Or when your last child moves out of the house and you find the quiet walls shouting at you,
Or when you lose love, or a loved one, and you are so busy with all the losing details that you don't get a chance to feel the pain till everything is quiet, and it is winter, and you miss them so much.

In my world, that is Post-Stress Funkification Syndrome.

I have experienced this kind of funk a few times over. In very real and profound ways. And I continue to be a little surprised by how it hurts. It is different than just about any kind of pain I know. It is not your average every day funk that is bettered by a good pedicure or a box of chocolates. No, this is the kind of funk that requires much more.

It requires attention. And care.

I especially remember feeling this after my mother passed away. It was November, just before Thanksgiving. Road trips, funeral arrangements, family gatherings, preparation for the holidays, and life took over all of the space for feeling.


And before I knew it, it was January. Cold, harsh, dark, and empty.
And vividly mirrored by my heart and soul. Deep aching feelings that would not be ignored.

I have learned that usually there is only one way for me to effectively manage PSFS.
It is to "Face the Funk". 
Look it squarely in the face and let it be what it is. 
Cry, scream, throw stuff (but only soft stuff like pillows), lock yourself away, indulge, wallow. 
Feel.

And then stand.

And try again the things you used to love.
And surround yourself with those who can move you forward. 
And try to push through every day.
And when that is not enough, start the process all over again.

What I have learned is that
there is cleansing in the feeling,
repair in the standing,
and building in the pushing.

Sometimes this takes longer than others.
Sometimes it takes going through the process again and again. 
And invariably it is very hard work.

But always, if I allow, it leaves me better than I once was.

Life was not meant to simple,
or easy, 
or neat. 
It was meant to grow us in ways we cannot grow ourselves.

So I will embrace the fertile growing ground that PSFS has to offer.
And then rejoice when it has passed.