Well, I guess I’m in a funk.

I’m not talking about that happy, groovy, bow-chicka-wow-wow funk.

I’m talking about the other one. That melancholy, upsetting, I-don’t-think-anyone-cares-that-I’m-even-alive kind of funk.

It visits me every now and then. Sometimes, when I least expect it. Often, for no apparent reason.

I’ll start the day with an endless list of ambitions. I’ll journal in the morning, fly through my to-do list, and make progress on the ways I hope to change the world.

Then, like that feeling you get on a sunny day when you know it’s going to rain, everything slowly begins to change.

Mind you, when the funk is looming, I’ll do my best to fight it. I’ll put on my running shoes, hit the pavement, and force my brain to drink in the serotonin. It kind of helps. I guess. Other times, it almost makes things worse.

On days like this, I’ll open the fridge and eat all the things. Ridiculous portions. If I’m going to punish myself, it might as well be delicious.

Then, I’ll turn on the TV and try to find something to cheer me up. (Spoiler alert, it never really does.)

After a while, I’m finally able to admit defeat.

The funk has well and truly invited itself in, and I’m stuck with its company.

It’s not all bad news, though. I quite like that I’m able to observe this funk and know that, it too, will pass. Yes, I feel pretty damn miserable as I type this, but this mood won’t last forever. Nothing ever does.

Here’s what I’ve come to accept. We can’t have the highs without the lows. I know, it’s a cliché, but it’s a damn helpful one. If occasional mood swings are all part of this weird thing called life, I’m not going to beat myself up over it.

So, I’ve just taken a hot shower and tucked myself into bed early. I’m jotting down these thoughts, lighting a candle, sipping a peppermint tea, and doing my best to show a bit of self-compassion.

Yes, tonight I’m in a funk. But it feels kinda nice to admit it.

Tomorrow might be different. Who knows, it might even bring me a big fat slice of that other kind of funk.

But, until that bow-chicka-wow-wow shows up on my doorstep, I’m cool with where I am.

Acceptance. It’s a beautiful thing.

Thanks for the visit, funk.