functional depression

I went to my physician last week for my annual physical.

As a prelude to the physical exam, she completed a depression screening.

Standard procedure, she said {as if she needed to justify asking those questions}

My responses didn't seem to trigger anything in the screening and so we moved on.

But my responses might have triggered something if I had met with her 2 weeks ago.

Because 2 weeks ago, I was in a funk.

Not the kind where it impaired my daily function, per se, and not one that would likely meet a clinical threshold but one where I was sadder than usual and felt despairing, disconnected and out of focus.  I went about my business - work, kid schlepping, home-making, being a spouse/friend/daughter/sister but I didn't feel much joy and I found it exceedingly difficult to remain fully present in...anything.

I am, by nature, a bit of a malcontent. 

In general, I find that part of my being to be an asset.

It serves me well in thinking outside the box and pursuing new endeavors, being open to perspective, or looking for ways to increase efficiency and creativity.  I like holding myself accountable to the patterns of life - to be mindful and remain attentive to possibilities for improvement/adjustment.  

But when it spins me into a funk, it crosses into a realm of liability.

My Dad, a massage therapist, specializes in what he calls "functional touch."

It is a slow, intentional, persistent, mindful approach to body work.

He spends hours working with the deepest set patterns in our bodies - attending to the tissue that has been forgotten, twisted, deadened, and deprived of circulation.  

The process to restore a body's tissue to health can be long, it can sometimes feel worse as you go about it, and demands your attention.

As I rolled off his table last week, I thought about how the narrative of my funk could be more functional than despairing.  How the ebb and flow of life is like our tissue - 

deeply set into patterns {likely established before our conscious thought} about which we remain fairly oblivious until/unless there is a problem {pain, discomfort, dis-ability}.

On the other side of my funk, I am able to see how it was restorative. 

I feel more resilient to the wonky-ness life is throwing my way.

I feel more attentive to life's priorities and feel better equipped to handle competing demands.

I feel as though I have greater clarity.

I feel more alive.