Down with the funk.

I have been in a funk the last couple of days. It was just enough to make me feel kind of scared about how ‘funky’ I was feeling and whether or not I was slipping down the slippery slope of depression. But no worries. Today I have found myself back in happy territory, and I’m very glad that my bad mood was just an itty-bitty thing for me. It has been a while since I’ve felt myself get so restless; since my mind has raced into the regrets/wishes/woe-is-me territory. I’m glad it seems to be over.

And today I went over to Rockstar Mommy‘s site and read a post that put all I had been feeling into words. (Much better words than I could come up with, too.) So I’ll give you a part of it that struck home with me, and then you can get yourself on over there to read the rest:

“I hate to use the word depression for two reasons. One, because I think it’s an extremely abused term – anyone with a hangnail nowadays is automatically depressed, medicated, and sent back into the world with a band-aid over their hearts and a button that says, SUCK IT, TOM CRUISE. And two, because I’m not depressed. I have a long history of depression, going back to as young as twelve years old, so I know what depression is. This isn’t it. But, whenever I feel myself slipping into some sort of funk, it always frightens me. It could be, and most likely is, nothing. I could just be stressed and overextended like every other normal adult. But when you’ve been through depression -true, abysmal depression- even the slightest of mood shifts can be terrifying. After you’ve been there and back, it feels like you spend the rest of your life scared of running too fast because you know how hard the fall is.”

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