I think I managed to avoid a Funk yesterday.

Yesterday was a Monday, with all that entails. I was at work, after having just spent a nice, relaxing weekend with friends. I was running on much less sleep than I prefer. I had packed a lighter-than-preferred lunch and snack, as I had not gone shopping before the weekend. I was working in a different department than usual, without any help. So I was tired, hungry, and not in the greatest mood to start.

I could feel a Funk approaching.

It was surprisingly seductive. “Come into the darkness,” it said. “You won’t feel stress, or annoyance, or pain. All you have to do is feel nothing at all.”

I could feel myself slipping. I tried to resist, but holding on was taking precious energy from already-taxed systems. What the Funk said was true: some things would be easier without feeling. But I didn’t want to do that, even for a little, because I couldn’t know how long it would take me to crawl my way back out.

In the end, though, I think I may have succeeded. I’m still tired, but the fatigue clouding my mind lacks the bleakness of depression. But my state of mind is still fragile, so I’m trying to shore it up however I can. I’m finally getting a small buffer back for my blog, which is something I’ve been meaning to do for the past two weeks. Finally being able to do so is boosting my mood; I can feel it increasing even as I write. I don’t have a day off until Friday, but I’ll try to get to bed early tonight; maybe that will help as well.

It will be interesting to see if I end up being successful. If I’m not, the failure to prevent a Funk may paradoxically cause a Funk, but that’s a risk I’m going to have to take. I’ve got a lifeline, and I’m going to hold on to it as hard as I can.

Okay, I’ll admit that Friday’s post was a cop-out. I fully intended to write, pack, and prepare for a weekend trip, but things started getting away from me fairly quickly. Something had to give, and it was my daily post. I’m not posting “No post today” is any better than just not posting, but acknowledging it at the time rather than later (or just ignoring the lapse) feels better to me. And since this is my blog, that’s what matters.

That being said, lets talk a bit about Funks. I’ve been trying to be more conscious about when and how the overtake me, but that can be difficult. The often sneak up on me, a subtle darkening of the mood like a long Colorado twilight. Even so, I do what I can.

Fatigue can be a strong trigger, as can low blood sugar. If I’m especially tired or hungry, I tend to be predisposed to bad moods. They may not cause Funks on their own, but they can severely increase the chance of things getting Funky (sorry for the pun, I’m listening to Daft Punk while I write this). My thinking has been that if I can find my triggers, I can take steps to avoid them and/or mitigate their effects. I could be in control.

But frustratingly, my triggers don’t always seem to be consistent. I can be doing fine, and some innocuous thought or interaction can send me spiraling off course. I can’t do much to avoid Funks when the can blindside me for no apparent reason. In fact, I’ve started to wonder whether or not they are something that can be controlled or consciously avoided.

As you might guess, my thoughts on the matter are starting to change. As a culture, we are widely told to “be happy” or to “think positive thoughts.” But what if that doesn’t work? What if you can’t get happy just by willing it? What does that mean in term’s of one’s worldview, one’s self-control?

This deserves some deep thought and careful consideration.

So as you may have noticed, my updates this past week have been a bit sparse. I haven’t put much thought into them, and even if no one else cares, they’ve felt like little more than token efforts to me. I’d like to talk a bit about why.

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I don’t have much to say today; last week was surprisingly busy and mentally draining, and I haven’t had a chance to catch up yet, on posts or much of anything. I’m low on spoons, and still not thinking that straight. It’s taking all my willpower to decide what to have for dinner tonight, let alone what to write about. As such, I think I will crawl into my introvert’s hamster ball and leave you with this comic:

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“The reason we struggle with insecurity is because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else’s highlight reel. —Steven Furtick

That one simple quote sums up a lot of what I’ve been trying to say recently, and a lot of what I’ve been dealing with.

I don’t know about you, but I spend a lot of time in my own head. I think about what to say, what I have said, what I could have said, what I should have said, etc. To say nothing about what I “should” do or haven’t done. I spend enough time there that I know (no pretense of rationality for this next bit) just how ramshackle my veneer of competence really is. I live with me, warts and all. And because I am so reflective, I tend to go over and over the same things time and again until the ruts start to deepen and I’m stuck brooding.

When I look at other people, of course, I don’t see that brooding and double thinking; how could I? Unless they share their thoughts (which we are most definitely socially programmed to avoid), I am forced to take things as I see them. Which is of course distorted by my own skewed brooding.

I guess what I’m trying to say is: everyone has issues. We just usually don’t see someone else’s as clearly as we see our own. They have the option of editing and choosing what mask to present to the world, whereas it is hard to truly hide anything from ourselves (not impossible, but the road of denial and self-delusion is a slippery one).

Through this blog, I have lifted the veil ever so slightly to let you see behind my scenes. Perhaps a bit too much. But I am starting to realize that my view of myself is really quite skewed. I’ve been critiquing myself and my rough drafts (of writing, of decisions, of anything) with others’ final, production-grade work. After all, most of the work that goes into things is invisible. In this light, it’s inevitable that one would feel inadequate.

It’s not going to be easy, to change the way I think about myself. In fact, I expect I will fail repeatedly, losing perspective. But I plan to keep on trying, keep on remembering that just because I’m closer to my own issues doesn’t mean they’re actually any bigger. But I will remember to try to keep things in perspective. And if when I need a kick in the pants, I’ll count on my friends to give it to me.

Literally or figuratively. It’s your choice.

I’m starting to realize that the majority of my psychological hangups result from the dissonance between who I am and who I (for some reason) think I should be. I’m not sure where these unrealistic expectations come from; the are likely self-imposed, but why? And is the assumption they’re self-imposed itself irrational? I feel like if I could know where these problems come from I could take steps to eradicate them. But since I don’t know where to start looking, and since I know I am somewhat biased when it comes to looking at myself (whether positively or negatively is left as an exercise for the reader), this is problematic.

Some issues are easy to articulate. For instance: I seem to lack a certain level of self-discipline, one which for some reason I feel like I should have achieved somewhere along the line during my years of martial arts training. I tend to hang out and socialize with people older than me, and often feel guilty that I haven’t “gotten as far” as they have (completely discounting their head start). Others are more arcane, like the feeling that I’m merely spinning my wheels on the path of life, or the guilt associated with doing something that isn’t “productive.”

Now, I am not saying that these hangups are rational. Intellectually, I understand that pretty much everyone else is floundering around as helplessly as I feel I am. But getting those nagging voices inside your head to shut up because of that is easier said than done.

The past few days (since I ranted about having too much to do) have been good, and I’ve been feeling better. I’m working to accept the fact that I don’t always have to be “productive,” and that my definition of “productive” likely needs to change. Does it make me happy? Does it fulfill one of my needs or wants? Then those activities should be considered just as productive as writing an essay. I’m also trying to curtail my perfectionism, which exacerbates all the issues outlined above (as well as others). It’s a slow journey, as the discouraging Funk waiting below whispers in my voice.

But The Funk lies. It is a part of me, true, just as it is a part of every human. But it does not need to be Me. It does not need to drive, or dictate policies that have no rational basis in reality. Even if attempts to silence the voice ring hollow, the effort must be made.

Hi, my name is Josh, and I am messed up human.