getting cozy with the funk

I have arrived
 {again. still. always}

At the space between what is and what is to come.

I've thrown myself into clinical work and motherhood and teaching and research and wifery and writing and relationships - both near and far.

I have set my goals and met them.  My life is full and largely marked by success.

I sometimes feel intimated by my self but in the next moment, I feel underwhelmed.

I have such confidence and security and yet, here I sit - in an existential funk.

 

It is both familiar and uncomfortable; my impulse to fill the funk with distraction: with people & tasks. 

I have been giving in to the impulse for weeks but this afternoon I awoke from sleeping off an overnight shift to stare the funk in the face {of course, when my defenses are down} and it feels a bit relentless at the moment. 

Distraction is no longer helping so I am giving myself permission to make myself comfortable in the discomfort. I am intentionally opening myself up to feel aimless and questioning and selfish and challenged and unknowing. 

I want to choose to see this time as functional, rather than despairing.

Tonight I felt guilty for my funk though {for how it distances me} and apologized to my spouse.

He said, without skipping a beat:

"Daph, satisfaction for you is a process, not a destination...the funk is part of your process and it will pass."

Fingers crossed.

parce que

And is he worthy?
asks the father to his child.

A heart for the one and
A head for the other

Though we are not comprised
of the same
Do we share enough so that
love for the other
might be our pleasured game?

And do you love him?
the father probes.
Her lips do not hesitate:
Yes
Why? is the father's reply.

His hair and how
it flops to each side.
His mouth and how
it dances with words.
His mind and how
it transforms everyday thoughts.
His hands and how
they never seem to fail.
His patience and how
it wades through her excitement.
His love and how
it shows in all things.

And see, she says:
A heart for one and a head for the other
A fitting complement for each.

I love him for who I am not.
I love him for who we are together -
far richer than being alone.

With that, her smile curls
into her eyes
and the matter is settled.