Blahs and Blues

I’m reading this weird book titled Acedia and Me by Kathleen Morris. Acedia is an old word that is no longer in circulation. It’s hard to define—but here are some phrases that we use currently to express the same idea:

I’m feeling blah—I just don’t care anymore—(and my personal favorite from a country song)—My Give a Damn’s Busted!

Having the blahs, occasionally, is understandable. However, when acedia levels start creeping up, the blahs turn into the blues. What starts off as vague listlessness, disinterest, inertia, and apathy—turns into melancholy, weariness, despair, and depression. 

Acedia may seem harmless, and thus it’s tempting to soak in it. Yet this insidious vice can be malignant. Its tentacles can creep into every aspect of our life, choking out hope, motivation, tenacity, and faith. Imbibing acedia is a lot like drinking alcohol—it’s hard to know when to stop, because your judgment is impaired the more you indulge in it.

I try to restrict a blah mood to a few hours. After that, I get up and do something, anything, so that I don’t sink down too far. I clean, or exercise, or cook, or call a friend, or brush the dog—something active that revives me out of the funk I’m in.

If physical activity doesn’t do the trick, Morris suggests an intriguing prescription for severe acedia: tears and Psalms. Tears allow us to feel, melting away the numbness. The Psalms give expression to our frustration, thus pushing out the stuck emotions.