Funky McFunkerson

It happens to all of us.

We go to bed, maybe a little irritated or perhaps just slightly more exhausted then normal. We snuggle into the comfort of our 250 thread count sheets and close our eyes and wait. We steady our breathing. We hold as still as our body physically can. We stretch our neck, flex our toes. And then we roll over. Repeat. And then we roll over again. We continue to toss, turn, keep our eyes closed in hopes that eventually the Sand Man from our childhood bedtime stories comes and shows his mercy on us. You think, "I've been a good girl. If Santa will bring me a Coach Bag for Christmas as a reward for being a good girl surely the Sand Man can give me one freaking night of peaceful sleep."

Still. Black. Silence.

And it's always the same. It's never one night, or even two. No. It's days upon days upon days. And that's when it leads into a period of "funk".

You know the one. Coffee doesn't taste as good, but you drink twice as much of it. The front temples in your head throb without any cause or remedy. You lack the energy to bathe (but still remind yourself to do it daily). Simple activites like brushing your hair, putting on makeup, feeding yourself suddely become chores.

Look around the office. See the girl who's hair is up in a messy pony-tail, body slinking down into the desk chair, head slightly tilted to the side as she stares blankly at her computer screen. Funk.

The guy who's shirt is slightly more wrinkled than normal, laying his head in his hands as he props his arm up on the desk. Funk.

It has happened to the best of us. And although these periods literally feel like they are going to last forever it is a well known fact that NOTHING in this world last forever. Even our mortality reminds us, everything is temporary.
My point? I'm in a funk. I'm bathed and I even managed to put on a tiny bit of eye liner this morning but I am still in a funk. And this one, it's a bad one. It's probrably one of the worst since my separation and pending divorce.
And this is not a time when I wanna be in a funk. Evelyn is walking and talking and growing so much I just want to take her to the park or the Zoo or the beach and witness and she sees things for the first time. She's such an adventrous child and it brings out the best in me.

I want to strive and study and excell in my new job because it is nothing like I have ever done before and I love it. I want to be excited about it and eager.

I want to be enthusastic about moving into a new place, a more stable home, a home that (may or may not) be just my daughter and me. It has never been just the two of us before and the thought is thrilling. I've never lived alone.
I want to be hopeful and excited about the free fiction workshop I'm doing this month and being around writers and artists in my area. A chance to reconnect with my Kindred. A chance to reintroduce myself to my muse. A chance to meet new people.

I want to be excited about the (possible) pending purchase of a new camera. FINALLY! I can indulge in my inner creativety and start photographing again.

But I can't. I can't because of this stupid idiot funk that is lingering in my bones. It's seeping through my eyes and causing my already restless nights to become completely sleep deprived.

I want out of this funk. I want to enjoy the summer time. But the things that normally drag me out of them; friends, shopping, extreme physical changes... even they fail to excite me.

Reminding myself that it's only temporary is getting old. And in the mean time, trying to force myself to enjoy these lovely moments it's exhausting me further. It can't last much longer.

Can it?

An Ode To Friends

I feel the need to express my appreciation. For the past few months I've been difficult and moody and emotional and the three of you have stuck by me without question or fear. I mean it when I say I would be lost without you, because you all are what has kept me above water this whole time. I'm a firm believer that in life you have two families, the families you are born with and the families you choose. I'm honored to call each and everyone of you family. Because I love you, and am so thankful to have you in my life.

I know you all well enough to know that you are wondering where this is coming from. Lets call it a moment of clarity, a moment of acceptance. I'm finally reaching out and allowing the harsh truth to wash over me with it's painful possibilities. And in this moment with it's beautify and tragedy and fleeting significance I wanted to tell you, all of you, that I love you. That you are my family. That to me, you three are home.

Thank you <3

Walking a Fine Line

I haven't talked much about Evelyn's father, and my soon to be ex-husband Rick lately. There is a reason for that. About two months ago Rick made the decision he didn't want to be involved with Evelyn at all. I won't go into details, but he had his reasons.

Recently, it appears Rick has had a change of heart. The other day I was talking to my friend Eric about it because I'm very confused about how to handle this situation. Part of me wants to tell Rick no, you can't see her because all you're going to do is change your mind about it in two week, or months or whatever. Which honestly, is already beginning to prove true. We had tried to arrange time for him to come see her this week but it seems he's not going to come through on that thought.

I tried to explain to Eric, it's hard for me to tell him no, he can't see her even when he doesn't deserve to because I don't want to be the one keeping her from him. I've watched fathers have their children pulled from them and kept from them and it kills me to think of anyone ever thinking of me the way I think of those girls.

I know Evelyn needs a father. I know she needs to know Rick and spend time with him, but how am I suppose to be a good mother and protect her from his indecisive and erratic moods. It's a fine line I'm walking, trying to provide her with both; her father and protecting her from the things that will let her down.

I don't know how much longer I can walk it.