I have been in a funk for the last week: overly-emotional, quieter than my usual self which is already fairly mum, and unmotivated to do more than the minimum of the day’s requirements. Just existing. By Friday, I’d had enough of myself and needed to shake the icky-ness. I went for a walk, bought a slice of German Chocolate cake, hit up the gym, and tried to meditate. The meditation is fairly new, so I’m not that good at it yet, but it did lead to a free write that turned out to be pretty uplifting for me. The slightly-edited version follows:
It is a beautiful day. The perfect conditions to shake the sadness trying to creep up on me. I don’t know why it’s here, but I know what it wants. It wants to plump my heart with grey and send insipidity through my veins. It wants to leaden my face and keep me from smiling.
It attacks and retreats. I fight it in different ways: chocolate cake, shopping, drinking in fresh air and sunshine. (Sometimes wine.)
I also write…and pause when I think the sadness might surface. I feel a creeping up my throat, a wetness about my eyes. I sit and I watch the people that walk around me. Most don’t seem so sad at all. They have family around them, bags of new baubles and bling. I have or could have all those things. I am one of them minus the melancholy balloon on a string I’m carrying.
I want to leave this body so I close my eyes and focus on my breath. I make my chest rise and fall exaggeratedly to feel my insides expand and relax. Really feel it.
Have you ever been so still you can’t sense yourself? So still you think you’ve disappeared? In a jerk, I’ve felt like my soul has stuttered outside my body. It started to leave but changed its mind.
I am greater than the flesh that sits on a metal bench. That makes me smile, takes the lead from my face. That makes me put purpose to my steps with the feet I can now feel. I’m back. I’m here. Without the sadness. For a reason.
It’s not a masterpiece by any means, but it got me where I needed to be.