I am a word nerd at heart. You wouldn’t know that from chatting with me. I don’t think quickly on my feet, so a typical conversation with me will generally exclude any word beyond a 3rd grader’s vocabulary. But put a pen in my hand (or a keyboard in front of me), and my vocabulary will expand to include vocabulary words from Mrs. Douglass’ 11th grade Honors English class!

I have always been a lover of books and reading, and while I enjoy the feel of a real book in my hands, I have grown to value my Kindle immensely, partly because of the built-in dictionary that allows me to immediately discover the definition of unfamiliar words.

And my thesaurus. Don’t get me started on my thesaurus! (Oops. Too late!) I LOVE my thesaurus. Thank you Mr. Roget! (To be more precise I guess I should say, I love my thesaurus app. This is the 21st century, after all!) While my everyday spoken language repertoire is quite elementary, I love to use various, and at times unconventional, words to convey my thoughts when I write. Plus it makes me sound smarter than I really am. Well, sometimes. Except when I use a “big” word incorrectly. (Our assent up the mountain was magnanimous.) That’s really humilifying!

There are times, however, when no dictionary or thesaurus is any help in finding a truly accurate word for what I want to express. Hence, my post title: The Blob.

The Blob is this thing, this heaviness, this aura, this something, that settles over me from time to time. I can offer you some related, but not quite accurate, words to give you a rather imprecise depiction of what I’m talking about:

Blues, doldrums, vexation, depression, downheartedness, pensiveness, gloom, boredom, ennui, despondency, sadness, melancholy, discouragement.

And just for fun (going back to my thesaurus): blue devils, pink elephants, mulligrubs, blue Johnnies, mubblefubbles, and my personal favorite (just because it’s a fun word to say), lugubriosity.

These words (at least the ones that I’m familiar with) all dance around this emotion, although none seems to quite hit the nail on the head.

The ability to define an emotion, especially if you can determine its origin, gives you a sense of power over it, making it seem more manageable. This “blob,” however, seems to almost laugh at me in my failed attempts to draw boundaries around it. I can’t tell you where it comes from or what brings it to bear in a particular setting. It’s that “I feel like crying but I don’t know why” sensation, and it ranges in intensity from uncomfortable to debilitating.

Perhaps this is the very emotion that King David experienced when he penned these words: “Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me?” (English Standard Version, Psalm 43:5a). The answer he gave to his soul? “Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God.” (Psalm 43:5b).

And so today, in my blobbiness, I turn my eyes to the only One who can offer hope, I crank up some worship music, and I do what I can to add definition to that vague emotion. I think I will call him Bob (No affront intended to any of my “Bob” friends.).

Is it simply me? Or does “Bob the Blob” make unwelcome appearances in your life from time to time? What have you discovered to help you through those times?