and the funky bunch
I just read an entry on a sister blogger’s site that simultaneously stunned me with surprise and subdued me with the sobering reality of my own life situation. She only vaguely hinted at having been in a funk / under a rock / in a fog for some time now, but something about her mild references to the funk made me sit up and take notice.
The surprise lay in the fact that I would not have expected it from her. She is a creative, outgoing, vibrant, smart, talented, and very self-assured woman by all accounts. She strikes me as somebody who really knows who she is and lives it. Every day. So, that she was alluding to being in a funk (perhaps signaled by the fact that she too had not blogged for a little while—just like somebody else I know) really floored me. Her? In a funk? Unthinkable. I just can’t imagine it.
What subdued me about her subtle revelation, however, was that overwhelmingly I feel like my funk is taking over—I don’t know myself anymore, like somehow I have been disconnected from the woman I felt myself becoming. I was having a great conversation with her, and as I turned the corner, my call was dropped. Can you hear me now? Damn cell phones.
At the same time, this deeply frightens and excitedly invigorates me. It is deeply frightening because it feels like I have lost something or someone important to me—someone who was going to make all the difference in my life, someone who felt true for the first time in a long time. Now, it is as though I nothing is clearly “true” for me. Everyday decisions are fraught with questions like, “But is that what I truly want?” and, “Am I certain about that?”
Nothing IS certain—and that’s the invigorating part too! That nothing is certain means that ANYTHING is possible! ANYTHING can come to be. All I have to do is… what? I have no idea.
My mom would be pleased to hear me say that this dilemma reminds me of a scene in the movie “The NeverEnding Story”—a movie my mom LOVES and would watch everyday (and make you watch with her) if you gave her the chance. There is a scene in which the Childlike Empress pleads with Bastian to give her a name and, in doing so, save the world. Incredulous, he denies that the solution to such an enormous calamity rests with him and that it could be so simple—something about which he has already thought, in fact. Finally, he agrees to call out her name: “Ok! I will do it! I will save you! I will do what I dream!”
I am, of course, not facing world destruction by being in a funk, feeling uncertain and not knowing which way to go. This experience is merely a lull, an ebb, a quiet time for me to reflect upon the possibilities. And why not? How fun would THAT be? And what a luxury, quite frankly. To have time to contemplate the possibilities? To dream a little? Wow.
So I’m not yet walking the path I yearn to walk. So I’m not taking action toward whatever it is I feel called to do in life. So I’m not exploring or expressing my creativity in the ways I had hoped to. So friggin’ what?
It becomes clear to me, then, that “shoulds” and “what ifs” are plaguing me by holding me back. Part of what keeps me in a funk is a fear of disappointment—what if I dream this amazing thing and it doesn’t come to be? And there is also a fear of inaction—what if I miss an opportunity that is only before me at this very moment? And a fear of stumbling—what if I don’t like it or am not good at it? Not to mention all the shoulds I place on myself—I really should get a better job to help us out financially. I should be exploring my creativity every day. I should go to the gym. I should…
Talk about a neverending story. Sheesh.
At the heart of all this is a reminder that I don’t do well in a holding pattern. I like having plans or at least knowing the bigger picture so that I can more honestly and truly make the everyday decisions. If I know where I am going, I can have a LOT of fun picking a route to get there. And that route can change, and we can take scenic detours, and all that—and it’s FINE. But when I am in a holding pattern and there is no bigger plan, I become fearful. And then the “shoulds” and “whatifs” are free to play.
I would like to find a way to honor the funk, to see it as a natural process and as temporary, and to allow it to teach me whatever it needs to in its own way. I would like to use it as a time for rest, for regrouping, for recharging. I would like to be more forgiving of myself when I cancel plans because I’m not feeling up to it, or when it takes me a few days/weeks longer to send a gift to someone I love, or when I choose to veg in front of the television instead of spend time painting, or when I don’t keep to my “one photo every day” schedule. Most importantly, I would like not to judge my funk in a negative way or hold it up to other people’s standards for how we “should” be living life and spending our time.
Yeah. That’s what I would like.