Every so often a funk grabs a hold of me, for no good reason. And not the
When in these funks, I feel like the only person who is struggling – a ridiculous notion, but true in the world of me, myself and I. This is a selfish and irrational way of looking at things. And people would be right to call me out on it in the forums and comments sections. Hell, you have my permission to walk right up on the street and slap me across the face if you have to. I forget to give equal weight to all the good things in my life – family, health, etc. They get minimized and pushed aside. The feeling sorry for myself isn’t productive. But it happens every now and again, often enough that I recognize the cycle for what it is.
My birthday was such a good time that the letdown afterward probably sparked this latest round of woe is me. But any little slight or setback can do it. Getting out of bed that next morning took some serious effort. I lay there staring at the insides of my eyelids, thinking that more sleep might make everything better. But more sleep only makes me feel guilty for wasting the morning. So I dragged my ass up, put on my workout clothes and headed off to the gym.
This funk-y workout wasn’t very good as workouts go. They never are. I tried to harness the negative feelings to push myself harder. In the movie version of my life, this would be the montage scene before the moment of truth. Alas, without the ’80s music, the cameras and the inspiration, this tactic didn’t work.
Home is the best place when I’m in a funk. The only people around the apartment during the day are the cats. And they just sleep and leave behind tumbleweed-like fur balls. I did go out that afternoon for cookies and coffee – the bread and nectar of life. I have to stay strong in case a potential employer wants to interview me. I can’t be scaring children like
Nothing seemed to work right during the funk. My muscles felt heavy. My brain couldn’t hold a thought. I moved with lethargy and less purpose, avoiding new tasks and lingering over tasks that are second nature. My attitude was poor, and my temper short. I complained about really stupid, unimportant stuff. And I got teary-eyed and emotional over sappy TV. (Damn you
Something always pulls me back into real life. This time it was a two-year-old boy on the subway discovering the world outside. He stood on the seat watching the passing buildings, pointing and laughing as his mother held him steady. I sat across the aisle, iPod on, watching him. Something about the scene made me feel better. Maybe it was his joy. Maybe it was his innocence. Maybe the chemicals in my body picked that moment to readjust in a way that improved my mood. I don’t know, but I’m glad it’s over.
We all have ups and downs in our moods. They’re part of life. But unemployment can make the peaks higher and, in my case, the valleys lower. I go through these cycles often enough to recognize them. If I could steer clear, I would. That hasn’t worked so far, so I just try to just be productive and minimize the downtime. My best is the most I can ask of myself.