With A Little Help from My Friends...
Or: How to get back out of a funk.
Waking up to the US presidential election results on Wednesday morning left me feeling sad, numb, and defeated. I listened to Freddie Mercury and ate pasta for lunch; and I felt my feelings, remembering to take it one day at a time.
There’s one thing that gave me a sense of gratitude and hope: connecting with others.
a space in which I could say “I don’t want to talk about it”, only to be then given room to share how I felt;
a relationship in which I don’t need to show up in any kind of way except as my human self;
and a conversation with a stranger, in which we both allowed a moment for tears to bubble to the surface before exchanging thoughts on passions, reframing labels, and values.
When everything feels overwhelming, it’s a sign that you care. The question is, what are you going to do about it? Whatever that ends up being, I believe it starts with staying connected to ourselves and our values, showing up in community, connecting with others.
I’d like to invite you to join me for Book Club. We use Devon Price’s Unmasking Autism as the guide and allow space to take the conversation in whichever direction the group feels drawn to. I’d love for you to join even if you haven’t read it.
Now, let’s talk about how to get out of a funk with a little help from friends. I wrote this piece a few weeks ago and I hope you can take something away for yourself today.
By Friday, I had accepted that I needed to wait it out, that I couldn’t rush my way out of it. I had managed the bare minimum: got my children ready for school and dropped them off; emptied and reloaded the dishwasher; and picked my children up from school again. That’s it.
Every day, for seven days in a row, I woke up thinking I was better, only to find myself staring at my phone, numb, for hours; or crying in bed; or trying not to cry on Zoom; returning to bed, feeling defeated and empty.
I longed for my thoughts to be as empty as I felt inside.
You’re too much.
You’re needy.
Figure this shit out, fix it!
You’re just making this up, you were just at the beach this morning; see you’re fine; you’re faking it.
You’re just too lazy to make dinner; how fucking convenient.
You’re too much; they don’t want to see you like this.
They also don’t want to hear from you twenty seven times per day; no not even that many. Hold back, don’t be weird. Once per day, that’s a rule from now on. See how many days you can go. Don’t be weird.
You’re too much.
Don’t be weird or you’ll push them away. They have a life of their own, you’re annoying. Don’t be too much.
What do you do when your body craves silence in bed? When you’re feeling empty and numb? When your mean thoughts grip you with everything they’ve got and pull you down into darkness? I didn’t know what to do.
My people knew what I needed when I had forgotten.
I hate being told what to do, I really do, so I was surprised when I felt no resistance to all of the advice that I received.
Go take a day for yourself.
Cancel this meeting, you don’t have to go.
Don’t go out for coffee, it’s too much socializing!
Go to the beach, take the dog. Nature helps.
Just go back to bed, I’ve got this.
Create some art!
I listened, I did all of those things, but change took its time.
My zine felt fun and creative to make, but I still didn’t make it out of bed for dinner that evening.
Hours at the beach were lovely, but then those fucking tears still came later that day.
It is on day eight that I finally surrender.
I stop trying to fix it;
I stop fighting it;
I clear my calendar, for real this time;
I decide to stay in bed however long I need to.
Eventually, a fun mix of boredom and curiosity and inspiration leads me to writing my first words of fiction since third grade. Snippets of a fantasy that had been swirling in my mind for weeks settle down on paper.
On the morning of day eleven, I join my family for breakfast, still in my bubble with my headphones on. I go on a short walk with my kids, I (re-)start an audiobook (this is a big deal, I have not been able to get into a book since my trip to Germany this summer), I vacuum and do laundry and take a shower, and I write.
I feel more like myself; the voices retreat into the far corners of my mind, not gone completely, but not present either; at least for now.
Things I want to remember on hard days.
I have a zine titled ‘things I want to remember on hard days’ sitting on my shelf now; I hope I’ll remember to read it when I most need it.
Maybe they are helpful reminders for you, too?
If you are having a hard day today, please take what you need.
You are worthy of love, exactly the way you are.
You are not too much.
To be intense is to be passionate; is to care; is to feel deeply; is to love.
You have time. You don’t need to rush this. (you can’t, anyway)
Asking for help and accepting help are two different things.
You are kind, caring, curious, bold, and loving.
You know you have a big heart, even if you don’t always show it.
Your needs are not unreasonable.
These are some activities that help me on hard days. Which ones help you?
Wear noise cancelling headphones
Drink tea
Create art
Go outside - all the way to the beach or just to sit outside for five minutes
Stay in bed
Shower
Watch videos on YouTube; binge watch an easy to watch comfort show.
Listen to music1
Talk to a friend via text
Research something interesting
Wear comfortable clothes
What helps you on those days? If you, like me, have a hard time remembering them, here is an idea: write them down and tell a friend so they can remind you2.
♥️ let me know that you’re here by clicking that heart. Thank you!
I want you to know that when you work with me as your coach, I understand that this is life for us neurodivergent people sometimes and there’s no “right” way to show up to a coaching session. Some days, emptying the dishwasher and surrendering is all we can do and we celebrate honoring your limits. We can reschedule or we can sit and doodle together.
To learn more, send me an email or message me in the Substack app or book a free sample session with me.
I knew things were bad when I moved on from Chappell Road to Elliott Smith. Someone please create a playlist for me that says “it’s okay to be blue / sad / in a funk, but let’s not spiral deeper, please”.
You will still have to tell them about your hard day, though!
Amazing piece, Hanna. You're not too much. You're awesome, and you're helping your readers feel less alone. You help me feel less alone!
It’s so hard to listen to the healthier version of ourselves when we’re feeling mentally spent. Sometimes I don’t go outside. Or get a bath. Or soothe myself in a way I know that is better or health.
Just know you have to be Hanna. That is your only job. Just go with it. Just be. And know you’ll be feeling “better” shortly.