In A Funk: Long-Distance Marriage Blues
I am in a funk.
There’s no eloquent or poetic way of expressing the state I’m in right now - it’s simply a deep funk.
The kind where I feel caught in a murky suspension, indecisive of what to do or say, unsure about what I want or need in this moment, unable to think clearly or feel any particular emotion distinctly. I feel like the weather inside is overcast, grey, dull. Maybe I’m depleted, run dry from overexertion and once again operating outside my energy envelope. I mean, I know that’s definitely a contributing factor.
But what’s really getting to me is how hollow my heart and house feel now that he’s gone again. It’s impacting me harder than it ever has before. I thought I was getting acclimated to the ebb and flow of this season that we’re in, one of brief stints together and long stretches of time apart. So when I internally crumbled and the tears started flowing out of nowhere and continued to flow for the rest of his last day here, I was so perplexed.
“What is going on with me?!?” I turned inward, searching, confused, wanting to know why I felt so out of control and why I was spiraling downward at lightspeed. And then I found the answer:
This house is feeling less like a place I occasionally visit. It feels less like an Airbnb that I am merely a guest in. It feels less like my space that he just visits.
The more time in recent times that we have spent here together, it’s been magical. Magical compared to the years of turmoil and discord and pain that we have had to weather. And because of that, it’s starting to feel like home.
One that we’re beginning to create memories in. One that we’re beginning to make our mark on and build up together. And that is making it harder to see him go, harder to be here on my own. I feel like something in me and in this home is missing right now and all that hollow space within is aching and hurting.
I know this too shall pass. That it is another lesson, another opportunity to learn, another trial that will lead to self-discovery, another occasion to rise up from. But right now, in this moment, I’m sinking. And that is okay.