A good friend of mine was asking me the other day about getting herself out of her “funk“. We both have struggled with depression and recognize that “funk” is a very dismissive term when you battle clinical depression. So funk is more of a signal that awareness of the depression is reviving, but the ability to logically make changes in thought and action isn’t quite up to speed at the moment. My own journeys with depression have made me understand that there are these “in between” times where I can finally acknowledge to myself that I have indeed been depressed. These are the times when I can admit that it is not just work and the physical exhaustion that comes from working later in the day/night and being on my feet the entire time. It’s not just having to get up early and chase a 3 yr old around for eight hours before running around a restaurant for 5-6 hours. It’s not just the never ending laundry, skattered toys, cat boxes, chores, grocery shopping, doctor’s appointments, yard work, etc. All of these things are just life happening.
In the between I can see that my reactions and inactions to my general issues of life are not normal, they are extreme. Even if the extreme is just lying in bed for every possible minute of the day. I recognize that I conserve my energy for only the absolutely necessary things I have to accomplish. The “voices” ( and by voices I mean my thoughts, my subconcious thoughts, not actual voices. I haven’t completely crossed over to that side yet) in my head begin to argue with each other over my self worth. I begin to have arguements with the voice that only sees how unworthy I am. The voice that has some hope and optimism starts to make sense again.
It can be really difficult and it can take a while for me to get to the between, but when I do get there I grab onto any glitteriness of hope I can find to start my trek back from the dark side. It can be anything, and it can come from anywhere. It can be a line from a song on the radio, or a random thing on tv while I am channel surfing. It can be a conversation with a friend, or an interaction with a coworker or restaurant guest. It can even be something as vague and kooky as the sunlight coming through the trees in just the right way, or the way a neighborhood couple is walking together along the sidewalk as I drive down the street. Just a random moment in time that reminds me that I am indeed glad to be alive.
Oprah refers to these things as “whispers”, that keep getting louder until you act. I like that. I also look at it like a scavenger hunt of sorts; where you find all of these random objects that you know mean something but you just don’t what yet. So you put them in a bag until you know what to do with them. Then, like NASA engineers trying to troubleshoot a problem on a shuttle in space, you dump everything out of the bag onto a table and see what you can make out of the stuff you have in front of you.
I have found myself in between once again.
Finally! And I have begun to dump out my bag on the table. This blog has been a first step. One of my personal “whispers” has been chatting in my mind about writing. For some time now writing and my desire to try my hand at it, have been nibbling at the back of my head. I have had moments, over the last year or so, where someone has told me I should write a book, or ha ha, start a blog. I have noticed plotlines in tv shows where someone has finally found their calling as a writer. More and more I have found myself with the overwhelming need to start writing down thoughts and ideas. I feel as if a muse has settled on my shoulder and I finally have the guts to say hello.