21 January 2010

the funk

I fell asleep in the car last night at about 6:00 or so. We were driving home from my second chiropractic appointment of the week (this afternoon will be my third) and suddenly, I was no longer able to keep my eyes open. I was barely conscious of my mouth hanging open slightly, and my head bobbing from side to side as James drove us home.

I'm exhausted.

119/365: no comment
119/365: no comment
20 january 2010
taken with camera phone

In addition to having some neck and back trouble this week (back trouble and I go waaaay back), I ran out of Vitamin D on Sunday and didn't replace it until yesterday. My typical dosage in the fall and winter months is about 2,000% the recommended daily value because I really don't get any from food. And it's winter. And it's the Pacific Northwest, which is typically (and sadly) deficient in sun this time of year. And I can't have dairy, which is typically fortified with Vitamin D. And the last time my daily intake of said vitamin was just 1,000% of the recommended daily value, my blood tests still showed I was borderline deficient.

[NOTE: It'd be a lot of reading (and it might be a good cure for insomnia) but if you're not already familiar with the backstory as it pertains to my health, these might be a helpful series of posts.]

So imagine me not taking it for three days, this vitamin that is essential for overall cellular health, that is essential for the absorption of calcium, and so many other important things. Back and neck constantly hurting. Feeling really sleep-deprived.

Sluggish. Moody. Cranky. Tired. Clumsy. In one colossal funk.

Between my back, the lack of Vitamin D, and still reeling from all that has happened in Haiti, I have felt less than myself. My sleep has been fitful and my dreams full of human violence and earthquakes. It is in my physiology, in my emotions, and in my mind. I need restful sleep, I need nutrition, and most of all, I need to continue to talk to God about all that is transpired over the last week or two. I feel so helpless over all these things.

And perhaps this conclusion seems too simple, perhaps at first blush it appears to be trite: He is not helpless over these things. HE IS NOT HELPLESS. It is true, and I need help remembering it sometimes.

I've learned that avoiding prayer is no solution. Maybe I don't even know what to ask for and maybe I will continue to struggle with physical pain and fatigue and overwhelming emotional reactions to the groans of the creation. But I know I need to talk to Him, to remember that He sees it all and grieves with us, to remember that this type of suffering was not in His perfect design for us, and to remember that one day, He will heal and restore and wipe away every tear.

That is helping me in this colossal, oh-so-terribly human funk I'm in. He is here. And He hears.

So what about you? Are there any passages of Scripture or particular prayers you recite when you are "in a funk" or feeling helpless? What do you most need to remember when you feel this way?


  1. These are the scriptures that so often comfort me in times of distress. This one seems especially poignant for today.
    Ps. 46 "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, and though the mountains slip into the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains quake at its swelling pride."
    and vs. 5 of the same chapter - "...God is in the midst of her, she will not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns."
    Ps.27- was especially dear to me after the loss of my dad "I would have despaired unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the Lord."
    Thank you for your honest post - it is refreshing to read your words.
    May your heart take courage today.

    In Christ,

  2. @travelmom
    Those are some great ones!! Just reading them makes my heart feel encouraged. Thanks so much for sharing.

  3. I posted on Tuesday about this... I like this glimpse into you. You have a tender heart. I love that.

  4. "May it be unto me according to your word." Ah, yes, Lord, nothing comes to me that does not, somehow, come from you and lead back to you, too.

  5. I've been in a funk over Haiti, too. Been meaning to write some thoughts about it. Keep waiting for the right moment ... but yeah. I feel you in this. It's helpful to hear your thoughts about God not being helpless and about this groaning creation's restoration one day. Thanks, friend.

  6. @Kelly
    It seems so many of our thoughts are circling around these themes. With the weight of all these griefs, I cannot even imagine how someone without the presence of God through His Holy Spirit manages to make it through a day. Blessings to you!!

    Oh, those are hard words: May it be unto me according to your word. Blessings are easy to receive with an open hand, but griefs (a different kind of blessing, granted) not so much. Thank you for those gentle words.

    I love your tender heart, dear friend. I can only imagine with the tenderness you bear toward all those who experience suffering and injustice, how this must be weighing on you. Thanks for adding your own voice to this.

  7. Thinking of you, wishing I had the right words to lift some heavy from your heart.

    I hope you are feeling better, resting, and giving yourself permission to live in this season too.