What happens when the bubbly girl has an off day?
People freak. Or so was the case today, at least.
To be quite honest, “people” included me. I literally found myself saying I’m cranky, and I’m not used to it, so I don’t really know how to handle this…
I woke up in a funk this morning, which is unlike me, and for the second day in a row! Never happens. So, naturally, I grab my iPhone and check the mooncast app. I know very well that the new moon is in just shy of a week, but I was hoping Miss Moon might lend me some insight as to the funk I’m. Next was the mercury retrograde app. Again, technology confirmed what I already know. Mergury goes retrograde on October 21st. So what the flip is up with me?
I’m not trying to claim I never get grumpy. That is so not the case. But it’s safe to say I’m sunshine and rainbows the vast majority of time, probably to a nauseating degree in the and of some, so when strange moods strike I sometimes feel blindsided.
Back to the question…what the eff got under my skin? It could be that today is my “rest” day, a day off from vigorous practice, which usually leaves me in a fog. I rely on my asana to clear the mental clouds as well as drain my otherwise too-boisterous-for-my-own-good energy. But, as any good yoga teacher and wellness counselor would do, I enforce periodic rest days to avoid fatigue, RSI, the like.
Looks like fatigue beat my rest day to the punch, though. And the not-moon-nor-mercury induced frump-fest that I woke in lingered all day long. Another rarity! Usually I kick my funk within a couple hours at most. Not this time.
It was miserable. And, the worst part? I had no control over any of it. Do not put the bubbly girl in a funky state AND take away the control freak’s control! Gah, the horror.
Nearly everyone was in my face at work all day about the different energy. As a healer, I exude more beneficial energy than need be at times. Hence my recent post about energy reserve and preservation of said reserve. They were’nt in my face in a rude way, per say, but my quietness was definitely as alarming to them as it was to me. I was even told by one person, NO! You can’t be cranky, that’s not you, slap yourself!
Oh yeah, sure, that’ll un-crankify me.
If it wasn’t already apparent that I take my own classic upbeat nature for granted, it was now also apparent that my immediate circle did too. Snap out of it, many said. A choice few, some of the more sinister-in-an-admirable-way folks, just nodded empathetically. Cranky, yes, we’ve been there, their expressions told me, though we’d have probably called it pissed off or bitter, something less floofy.
Only bubbly people use the word cranky.
The less cranky I tried to be, the more my funk intensified. My perfectionist tendencies were rising in me like a lump in the throat and I just felt like crying. I felt like a victim of identity theft. That sounds ridiculous, I know, but it’s true. I felt like someone had robbed me of my bubbly normalcy. I didn’t know how to operate as solemn Sara. Everyone I encountered asked me what was wrong.
The true answer? NOTHING! I just didn’t feel like chatting everyone’s head off for once! Can’t a girl get a day with a little more peace and quiet? Perhaps – gasp – a tiny bit less smiling? My face just didn’t feel like smiling today. Is that such a crime?
Isn’t it better to be true to one’s current internal state of affairs rather than force a dishonest mood?
I understand that being a monster is not only inappropriate, it’s unpleasant. I am in no way advocating for waking up in a foul mood and justifying behaving like a beast out in the world. To an extent, we must fake it till we make it. Maybe in doing so we’ll trick ourselves back into happyland. But I wasn’t being a monster, I just didn’t feel like fake smiling all day. I was being perfectly pleasant, I just wasn’t fully “myself.” The result? I felt like I was letting everyone down.
The more I thought this way, the worse my mood became. I masked the grumpiness on the outside and tried to quell long conversations with musing smiles and nods, turning my attention elsewhere. Today would have been an epic day to be able to take a vow of silence. In response to my inner frustrations, my voice even began to turn hoarse.
Needless to say, when 4pm finally hit, I drug my cranky bum home in quite the tizzy. I dug immediately into a snack. That’s usually one reason I get crabby; low blood sugar. While my raw “cheezy” zucchini pasta with tamari and pumpkin seeds was a delicious hold-me-over till dinner, the fog clung on. Shortly thereafter I tied on my tennies and took off on a brisk three mile walk.
It was. The last. Thing. I felt like doing. But, alas, there are three remedies for me when a funk strikes: nourishment, movement, restoration.
So I nourished…then I moved. On about mile two I started to feel the haze lift. By the time I came home my heart was rocking out to its own melody in my chest, my blood was pumping, light had returned to my eyes and my hunger was revved up again. I made some delicious, warming, vata-grounding, nourishing dinner and whipped up my classic immune booster digestif tonic. Then I moved on to stage three of the funk kicker equation: restoration. I set my beloved studies aside for the evening, donning jammies at 6pm, and picked up where I’d left off with What to Expect When You’re Expecting on Netflix.
Boom. Goes. The. Dynamite. Now we’re talkin’.
Am I feeling better? Meh. I’m certainly 110% comfy cozy. So that gets a thumbs up. I’m fed, warm, exhausted and absolutely infused with gratitude. Gratitude to be where I am and not standing, working, tired, frankly anywhere but here.
If the entire purpose of my funk was to leave me saying I wouldn’t want to be anyplace else, then it was worth it. Because that’s really how I want to feel at the end of every day.
A little kindness, with others as well as oneself, goes a long way. Next time the dreaded fog finds me and I rise in a funk, I’ll be sure to be nice and patient with myself. Same goes for other people. The usually bubbly, upbeat people in our lives can have bad days. In fact they should have bad days, otherwise there’s no darkness to rim their brilliant light. They must coexist. We’re all human. Funks hit. We must realize that we’re sentient beings, not robots. We are deeply influenced by energetics, the moon, seasons, the solar system, weather, environment, the Universe. We have emotions, we pick up on energy. Sometimes we feel ways we can’t comprehend in the moment. That does not make our feelings irrelevant. We are doing ourself a disservice by not feeling them fully.
Had I smothered my funk today, I’d not have written this piece. I’d not be a pile of exhaustion in cozy pajamas, banging out the final words of this essay. I’d not have learned this lesson, be digesting this gratitude nor sharing this material with all of you lovelies. So everything truly does happen for a reason. Maybe the bubbles will be back tomorrow. I certainly believe they will be. One thing is for certain, they reside in me. Right beside the little cranky girl who also is a part of me. My yin and yang. I’m an emotional cancerian crab, after all. I certainly spent today scuttling around, one grumpy eye leering out from inside of my shell. Self-preservatoin. A necessary act in treating any funk. I learned today that perfectionism has no place in an emotional body. Things will never be perfect, nor should they be. Perfection is unattainable.
Perfection is boring, and it is definitely not what I am. What I am is a crab. A crab beached somewhere between bubbly and cranky, lazy and exhausted, totally ready to hit the hay and begin again tomorrow.
And you know what? There’s not a darn thing wrong with that 🙂
Keep on scuttling, Tribe. Cranky or bubbly, never stop scuttling.