I’ll admit, I’m in a slump. This Haiti thing has sort of made me sick to my stomach, and last night I made the wretched decision to watch a foreign film in German on Netflix. My husband is out of town, and if there is ever a movie he would never consent to watch, it’s a romantic chick flick that takes place in Hungary where everybody is speaking German. I figured a nice, interesting, subtitled foreign film love story would not only feed my starved intellectual soul, it would shake me out of my rut.
And I suppose it worked, if shivering under the covers over a story of untold tragedy involving Nazis, Hungarian Jews, Auschwitz and sickening betrayal counts.
So in my emotionally exhausted state, I turned to Anne Shirley.
She did a remarkable job of pulling me out of my rut. How can somebody be grumpy when you are reading about Anne baking a cake with liniment instead of vanilla (not that I really know what liniment is, but I imagine something medicinal and sour, and not at all like vanilla), and almost drowning until Gilbert Blythe comes to the rescue? And how can you not get giddy with delight when you imagine a Gilbert Blythe who looks like this:
I wonder, though, what causes these slumps to occur. Following the horrors of Haiti hasn’t helped, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness mixed with the image of standing before my maker at Judgement Day and having no good answer to the question, “Why didn’t you do more for my people in Haiti?” further compounds my particular sense of ennui.
But even without spectacular natural disasters, there are times I find myself practically crawling out of my skin with restlessness, and I’m hard pressed to find a reason for it. I blame all kinds of things–being a SAHM, keeping a house together while a husband does a crazy amount of traveling, lack of exercise, lack of spiritual study, the weather, watching Aladdin on repeat. Perhaps it is all of these things. Perhaps it is none of these things. The lack of a reasonable explanation makes the solving of it all the more perplexing.
So I wonder, what do the rest of you do? How do you get YOUR groove on? What helps you when you find yourself in these loops of languidity? (Can you tell I’ve been spending time with Anne Shirley? She’s made me remember all kinds of words I haven’t used since I was studying for the SAT.)
I stayed up well past my bedtime finishing the book, and then immediately put the miniseries into my Netflix queue. I also related my experience with the German movie to my husband, and he told me that I should have known better to think that any love story where Jewish people are speaking German would end well. I so hate it when he’s right.