How Do You Handle A Funk?

I’ve been in a F.U.N.K…Fu**&ing Uncomfortable Not Knowing…What’s Wrong with Me?

When things are going great and we feel like a million bucks, no one stops dead in their tracks and goes… “Wait a minute. What’s wrong with me?”

We’re just expecting to feel good. But as soon as a funk comes to town, our world stops and we ponder our problem day and night. As if it’s not normal to feel bad.

So, perplexed at what could potentially be happening, we simply say “I’m in a funk.”

That’s where I’ve been. Feeling sad, pissed, irritated, anxious, and bored. Wanting to eat everything not nailed down, but remembering I’m managing an eating disorder. So, binging to feel better is out of the question because I know it only makes me feel twice as bad.

Coping this week involved…..

Who am I kidding? Sometimes when I get in a funk I don’t want to anything. Including the things that help me cope. Still, I’m trying not to be the mood police. Mostly because I hate when other people do that to me. “Are you ok?” “What’s wrong with you?”

I used to get that all of the time. And mostly because I walked around with a forced perma-smile on my face and just beneath that was a little forced cheerleader like., “A is for awesome, awesome, awesome, are we!”

But I’m not awesome. I’m in a funk.

I remember a day when I couldn’t identify any feelings other than rageful, devastated, embarrassed, or shameful.

Because in the past when I was feeling like this, I did things to hurt myself further.

When I felt sad or anxious, I drank or ate. And then, I felt shame and regret on top of sadness or anxiety.

These days, I don’t run to French fries, Chinese, or wine. I run to self–compassion and patience. But let’s get real…those things seem to take longer.

But only in the short term. In the long run, running to destructive methods to feel better only ever made me feel worse.

Still, the seeker of immediate gratification in me wants to feel better RIGHT NOW!

I have videos to make. People to help, a toddler to play with, and a husband to connect with.

But none of those things are getting done the way I’d like them to be done right now.

But guess what? That’s ok.

Yes! I said it…that’s fucking ok.

Part of the reason it takes longer to come out of the funk is the judgement about being in the funk in the first place.

So, I practice radical acceptance.

I’m in a funk. OK. That’s OK that I’m in a funk! I don’t have to hide it, or fix it right the hell now.

I can just be in a funk. And guess what….

I didn’t post a video last week and no one died.

I didn’t play with as much enthusiasm as I wanted to. And Ellie didn’t bat an eye.

I didn’t connect with my husband the way I wanted to, but I told him what was up and that connected us in another way.

I have to be willing to allow and accept feelings. And that means all of them.

The tide comes in and the tide goes out.

The seasons change.

And so do my moods. Do I think I’m somehow going to be the only living being in the world that doesn’t experience shifts or changes or follows the rules of the Universe?



This too shall pass. And when it does, it will increase my gratitude for when I truly feel AWESOME.

I love to see your comments, so please leave me one!

Love you!


Dealing with depression naturally. How to cope.

When depression comes to visit.

Heidi's heart painting

Depression is a rude guest. It always shows up unannounced. It comes and goes when it feels like it, often at inopportune times. It leaves a mess when it breezes into town and expects you to drop everything to be with it.  It makes you feel bad for opening the door in the first place. It blames you for everything that doesn’t go right.  It’s entitled and inconsiderate. Not to mention it also makes you feel bad.

As you can imagine, a guest like that would be very unwelcomed.

That’s how I felt Sunday morning when I sensed it was coming. I didn’t get it and I definitely didn’t want it. I had just had a beautiful weekend. There was no reason I could think of that gave it the green light to visit.

I started to think about how I could pretend not to be home. Hide in my room, under the covers, or just not answer the door this time. Maybe it would get the hint and go bother someone else.

But, having a toddler at home and a husband out of town. I didn’t have that luxury. So, I woke up and opened the door. It floated above and around me.

Then it made its way in.

Maybe you know what that feels like.  The proverbial gray cloud that follows you around, it still seeps in and parks itself on your chest, attaches itself to your back, forcing you to carry the weight of it around, or it settles in the lump it cultivates in the back of your throat.

At first, I ignore it. I try and pretend it’s not there and go on about my day.  Wake up, make breakfast, and play with Ellie. Smile. Try to pretend it’s not there. Distract myself.

I’m a girl who loves a good state change-thank you Tony Robbins and NLP, but sometimes that works, and other days it only seems to entice the sadness.  Pissing it off and helping it grow.

So then it morphs into frustration. I distract myself long enough to think I’m just in a bad mood. And that works for a while, where I can just pretend I’m pissed or PMSing.

But eventually something will happen to shift me back “home” to the intent of the original visitor. I will stub my toe, burn noodles, or open a bill and WHAM! There it is.

There she is. And she envelops me. And

I let her in. Fully. Finally.

I fell to my knees sobbing in the kitchen. And my toddler was in the living room.

I heard Ellie’s soft voice through my sobbing, “What happened Mommy?” She asked.

I was tempted to say, “Nothing.” But instead I said. “Mommy just got sad.”

“Mommy just got sad?” She echoed.

“Yes honey. Mommy is sad.”

“Here.” She said scooting our little Chihuahua closer to me. “Want to pet Milo?

“Thank you” I wept petting Milo.

Ellie began to rub my back and play with my hair, “You pretty hair, mommy.”

“Thank you Ellie.”

“You fine now?” She wanted.

“Mommy’s still sad”, I still needed to cry.

“Want to go color? Come on Mommy” She grabbed my hand and led me to the canvas.

As I sat, crying and coloring with my daughter I felt so blessed that I could cry and that I didn’t need to run to the bathroom or suck it up to protect her.

I feel blessed that she can see the value in seeing a feeling through.

What she taught me was how to remember how to be a good hostess.

When sadness comes to visit, sometimes there’s immense value in just being present for it. Not being mad at it, but welcoming it and asking it what it needs or why it’s here.

Before, I would do anything to push sadness away. I would try and drown it, or medicate it, or sleep it away. But today, I showed up to meet it. And there is a lesson in every tear.