But this morning I woke up in a funk. So the beautiful falling snow is just something I need to clean off the driveway in a bit. And the cold is just something I'm going to have to deal with when I go out. And all the words I wanted to share with you have been buried deep where I can't seem to find them this morning. If you saw my instagram picture this morning, then you know I'm feeling a little covered, smothered, and scattered.
And I feel like a whiner whether I talk about what is going on in my heart or not.
And I feel like a failure because my life is good and funks should not happen.
And I feel weak because I shouldn't allow my thoughts to take control of me, I should take them captive.
And now I go back to failure because apparently my faith is small and weak.
And because I have told you all of this I am a whiner again.
It's easier some days for me to talk about "we" and "us" rather than "me" and "I" because it's general and not specific. It's not personal. It's not my heart.
This week in my class I'm supposed to write about things I love and hate. I wrote my partner in the class because I was having such difficulty with it. I censor myself like crazy. I don't say anything too strongly because I might offend someone. I leave things unsaid because I want to make the water smooth. I keep thoughts hidden and difficulties private because I don't want to rock the boat, or shake the bridge. But this morning the funk feels as if it all came to the surface.
All the words I should have said
but didn't and now may never say
have stuffed themselves
into my brain and body and soul
and are trying to make me implode.
And this morning I think about self-care, deep breathing, scripture, and my heart cries out. I don't know how to do it all, and today I was going to tell you how I'm not going to be doing it all anymore, but I find myself wondering how to do what is needed.
How do I protect myself from the funk? Is it even possible? I feel the desperation to make others understand and for all to approve, even while knowing that is never going to be fully possible. And so I wonder again... is the funk the result of the desperation I feel to please people? Even after all these years of working against that part of who I am? Is it still there?
Or is it just a bad day where I need to wrap up in a blanket, play with yarn, write some words, watch a movie, and read a book all while drinking coffee and watching the snow fall?
I don't have the answers.