fighting the funk.

lately, I've struggled with my emotional barometer.  you know how it is - you know you're in a funk but you can't seem to shake it... you know you should go run or work out, because it's guaranteed to make you feel better, but you don't.  and then you just feel like a blob with no discipline.  you know you should eat better, but Texas Tamale Company is on the way and wouldn't a Baskin Robbins chaser make the afternoon brighter?  you know you should actually appear to work at work and not read Watchman and magazines on the job.  you know that fear about your job and the future is debilitating, that trying to control things too much seems to actually hinder and that God has always steered your ship faithfully, but the vaguely panicked feeling won't seem to go away.  you know you should be in serious prayer.  but you're not.

welp, I took steps toward the other side of the funk this weekend.  Saturday morning, after my husband left to volunteer at his high school's yearly Latin tournament, I got my shoes on and went to our nearby park.  I walked the 3 miles mostly, just running the final lap.  it felt good to be outside and moving, jamming to the tunes in my ears.  I kept feeling tugs inside and I got the sense God might like to have a little time with me... so I called my mother instead and walked around the track trying to talk to her and keep up my pace....

I met B2 for yummy tofu and veggie lunch, and a stroll around the Village.  it was such a beautiful day.  again, just being outside and walking around was good for my soul, as was spending time with B2.  we hadn't had some touchstone time in awhile, and were way overdue.  Saturday night I hit my meeting, and when the leader this week introduced the topic by saying, "Well, I don't know about all of you, but I've really been in a funk this week...", I smiled.  that's why I show up every week, to be reminded that I'm not unique and to gain strength from the people around me who aren't afraid to put themselves out there.  turns out a lot of people were feeling blah and blue for all sorts of reasons:  various fears, post-holiday letdown, economic woes, job loss, family challenges, the 11th anniversary of the death of a husband.  one older gentlemen, who we haven't seen for awhile, shared that he'd come to tell us that he's been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer, that he'd just had his first cancer treatment but is on his 'last lap'.  he told us to be careful for what we ask for - Bob had apparently had a heart attack when he was 41, and was always worried he'd die suddenly and not have time to 'get ready'.  so, he said, now he has been given the time, and he is taking it.  of course, he said all of this very calmly and matter-of-factly.  as some of us wiped away tears, our leader sweetly remarked at the honor of having walked alongside the people in that room for so long.  even I, who've been there only 5.5 years (a drop in the bucket compared to most of them), feel the same  - that I've been privileged to know and be known in that community.

so all of this culminated in my answering the God-tugs in one way Sunday morning by testifying/confessing at church.  Mike McA was talking about Jesus, and His lordship in our lives, and who we say He is, and repentance.  I was overcome thinking about the past - the thankfulness I feel to have been delivered and changed so amazingly, the memories and messages that pop into my head sometimes that still bring deep pangs of shame, and even a couple of things inside me now that are festering and in need of exposure to light.  repentance is life-giving, and I know this.  it's still scary to face the church like that, but I honestly do believe very much in confession and being 'known', whether publicly like that or in more intimate company, as awkward and uncomfortable as it can feel.  I'm positive there are people there feeling the same things.  and what to do with your experience but share it in the hopes that others will feel freer to do the same?  when we got home I emptied my heart into my husband's loving, compassionate ear, and the things that felt so big and gross were suddenly... not as big.  not as big at all, and different with him looking at them with me, affirming and encouraging me.  and I thanked God all over again for teaching me about love and Himself through my husband.  then I laid down on the couch with a blanket and slept like a baby...

and woke up, and went to see Gran Torino*, and slept like a baby again all night long.  I dreamt about a large house, some people I work with, and a girl band.  one of the first thoughts I had when I woke up was the scripture, "in my Father's house are many room.  if it were not so, I would have told you.  I go to prepare a place for you."

I don't know that I'm done with my time in this particular funk, but I'm definitely on the move and that feels so much more natural and right.  

* has anyone seen Gran Torino??  I confess, I enjoyed the movie as a whole and I'm glad I saw it, but was completely befuddled.  I thought the writing was pretty awful and the performances on the whole reeely unpolished and sometimes comical... when it shouldn't be.  It all felt a little too deliberate and I wasn't quite sure what to take away about race and prejudice.  I was distracted by the language and racial slurs... again, the words too deliberate come to mind.  I felt like they must've had Complete Listing of Racial Slurs and were bent on using every one of them in this film.  Not that there weren't some affecting scenes... and I did giggle a few times at Clint Eastwood's crazy-gruff character (he was reminding me of Henry Fonda throughout a lot of the movie).  But when the film ends with Mr. Eastwood himself brokenly crooning a song about 'Gran Torino' I gave up and laughed out loud.  it was all just so weird to me. then I poked around online and read that 'only gross and bourgeois, uppity jerks won't love this move'. I paraphrase a little.  thoughts?  other opinions?

     

-m.y.