The Funk Survival Guide: 5 Steps to Clawing Your Way Back to Yourself
How to Escape the Funk: Tiny Acts of Defiance to Find Your Way Back to Yourself
There comes a time in every woman's life when she wakes up and realises she has become an indoor cat. The kind that only wears pajamas with holes in them, lives exclusively on toast, and has no recollection of the last time she made eye contact with another human being. This is The Funk. It creeps in like an uninvited guest, plants itself on your sofa, and demands to be fed biscuits.
The Funk makes everything feel pointless your social life, your job, the art of shaving your legs. You begin to believe this is simply who you are now: a person who watches crime documentaries at 11 a.m. and scrolls through old photos of herself from more optimistic eras. But fear not. The Funk is not forever. And, mercifully, it can be evicted with a few small, stubborn acts of defiance.
Here are five steps to wrestle your way out of the emotional fog and stumble back into yourself — mascara smudged, hair unbrushed, but gloriously alive.
MAKE YOUR BED
Get out. Get out now. You, reading this, rise from the crumpled sheets like a phoenix who smells faintly of stale snacks and regret. Been in a funk for weeks? Ready to change your life? Strip your bed and change the bedding. No energy? Fragile? That’s okay. Lets slow this down and be kind to ourselves. Stand up, take a deep breath, and just make the bed neat. We’ll change the sheets when it feels less like a Herculean task. But for now, this is enough. Because if you achieve absolutely nothing else today, you can still tell yourself: I made my bed. And that, dear reader, is an easy, powerful win.
3 SQUARED
You’re out of bed and now facing the pit you’ve been living in. It’s fine. No judgment. We’re tackling this in tiny, non-scary doses. Choose three things: the top that’s been draped over your chair like a ghost of nights out past, the water glass growing mysterious floaty bits, the makeup explosion on your desk. Pick up all three things and put them away. Congratulations. You’re a hero. In an hour, pick another three: maybe it’s closing a drawer, wiping a surface, or finally taking the bin out. Do another three before bed. Suddenly, you’ve done nine things. By breaking it down, you slowly clear both your space and your mind; like a gentle, ongoing exorcism of the funk.
WATER AND VITAMINS
Remember that overpriced emotional support water bottle you bought during your “wellness era”? It’s time to put it to use. Fill it up with cold water and add something nourishing. Funk-induced by illness? Pop in some vitamin C. Low energy? Chuck in some electrolytes. I made a rule: every time I step into the kitchen, I drink a fresh glass of water. It feels annoyingly simple, but staying hydrated genuinely makes a difference. And every sip feels like a tiny act of self-respect; a reminder that your body deserves care, even when your brain is being mean to you.
THE MINI VS BIG SHOWER
We all know the Big Shower. The life-reset shower. Hair oils. Full body scrub. Hair mask. The ceremonial shaving of legs so you feel like a dolphin reborn. The Big Shower has magical properties; it sloughs off the funk like dead skin. But when you’re in the depths of it, even stepping into the bathroom feels like too much. On those days, opt for the Mini Shower. Just get clean. No extras. Even the tiniest rinse resets something in you. And when you finally work up the energy for the Big Shower? It feels like an ascension. A baptism back into life.
In all seriousness, I’ve been in the kind of low that makes gravity feel personal. The sort of state where even existing feels heavy, and the idea of change seems laughable. It’s terrifying. But somehow, I’m here; clawing my way out, one tiny, stubborn step at a time. And if I can do it, I truly believe you can too.
Be gentle with yourself. A funk is just a funk. It’s not forever, no matter how convincing it is. The way out isn’t dramatic or glamorous, it’s small, almost invisible victories stacked up day after day. Making your bed. Drinking a glass of water. Opening the curtains. These moments might feel insignificant, but they’re not. They’re proof you’re still trying. And that’s everything.
About Twenty Five Reset
Hi, I’m Niamh, and everyone was right—25 really is a turning point. I finally know who I am, what I want, and my purpose… but it’s nothing like I expected.
I work in TV, but it doesn’t define me. This space is my reset—embracing the mess, reflecting, and creating again. You can expect:
Pop Culture and a lot of chats about 2000 - 2020 TV Shows
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