I have been in a strange mood. It has lasted a couple of weeks. Some call it a funk.

A funk is defined as a state of depression, a bad mood, a time when nothing seems right.

There are more definitions. One says it’s a strong offensive smell; another, that it is music with the characteristics of rhythm and blues and soul.

But my condition had nothing to do with odors or funky melodies.

I have tried to “diagnose” my own malady. I could only describe it as a hangover of the soul. It is heavy, unexpected and sickening. I am almost afraid to dwell on it for fear that it might return.

Sleep paralysis

Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? You know you are awake but you can’t move. When it happens to me, as unfortunately it does quite often, I have to get up out of bed and do something to take my mind off that strange sensation. If I allow myself to just drift off back to sleep, the paralysis returns.

Sidebar: I read up a bit on this and it’s comforting to know that although it may feel like it, you are not at the portals of death during such an episode. Apparently it happens when your brain wakes up ahead of your body. Go figure.

Doctors say that if you just relax, the body eventually catches up with the brain and that out-of-sync sensation passes. There’s a more scientific explanation. But I’m quite happy with this one.

Dark cloud

I don’t know if my recent dark cloud fell upon me suddenly. Perhaps I saw it coming and didn’t pay attention. But one morning I just woke up listless, uninterested and unenthused. I felt a physical absence, like I was missing a part of myself. I could feel it deep inside. And it hurt. I felt cheated, robbed of something precious and I didn’t know what it was.

My mind had checked into a distasteful “I couldn’t care less” mode.

I remember how my late best friend, to explain her detachment from events or things, used to say: “no me cambia la vida.” In other words, if it did not change her life, why should she care? Indeed, a sad and selfish outlook, but it was real. It was safe.

My mood was morose. I was in a disappointed, disgusted frame of mind. In the back of my aching heart I felt, “There is nothing much left to believe in anymore and nobody seems to give a damn. So why should I?”

Someone suggested: “Maybe your system has locked itself up in self-defense because it refuses to be vulnerable again.”

Possible.

Toxic atmosphere

But why?

The list is long. We live in a toxic atmosphere. Our moral compass is in shambles. We have lost the audacity to uphold and defend our values. No one cares, or dares, to stand up for what is right. There is deceit and artifice at every turn. It is nearly impossible to tell the difference between falsehoods and the truth. Fake news? Alternative facts?

Adolf Hitler said: “Make the lie big, make it simple, keep saying it and eventually they will believe it.” He was right.

Politics and politicians have hoodwinked us, and we have all bought into their garbage.

American astronomer-writer Carl Sagan once said: “One of the saddest lessons of history is this: If we’ve been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. We’re no longer interested in finding out the truth. The bamboozle has captured us. It is simply too painful to acknowledge—even to ourselves—that we’ve been so credulous. So the old bamboozles tend to persist as the new bamboozles rise. Finding the occasional straw of truth awash in a great ocean of confusion and bamboozle requires intelligence, vigilance, dedication and courage.”

Maybe that’s the problem.

Proverbial towel

Or could it be that this is part of growing old? I have been holding the proverbial towel too long and I’m tired. Perhaps it’s time to throw it in and fade into the sunset.

The former me would, bruised and bloody, stay in the fight.

Or maybe I got weary of mourning about how low we have fallen. One of my favorite things to do is get together with my “besties” from school and, like it or not, we start comparing how it is now and how it used to be. Not good?

Perhaps in my mind and heart I have taken refuge in the way it was. They tell me it happens. Experts say it is a deliberate attempt to escape from what we don’t understand or can no longer stomach. We think it will hurt less.

But the sensible part of me asks: Of what good are we if we remove ourselves from the picture? Why have we complained all these years about the minor roles we are allowed to play and now threaten to jump ship?

Something amiss

It did not make sense. I knew something was terribly amiss.

I spoke to a friend about it. She and I go back many years and I trust her insight. I told her how I felt. Dejected. Helpless. Disillusioned. Abandoned. Empty.

I waited for words of wisdom. Instead, she prayed. Now why didn’t I think of that? She spoke from the Book of Lamentations.

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases. His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning. Great is thy faithfulness, oh Lord. ”

Just a gentle reminder, and all is well with my soul.