The fog is rolling in heavy…dark…never-ending.
How can fog possibly be this dense all of the time?
How can the billowing fog keep knocking me down
over and over like a massive…angry…ocean wave?
The fog is affecting my ability to see anything clearly.
It is almost smothering me, literally taking away my
ability to take deep breaths and breathe fresh air. The
fog has turned into my faithful…hateful…companion.
It is like a leach that has attached itself for dear life. No
matter what I do the fog…hangs on…and…on. Fog…follows
me everywhere that I go. Fog…affects everything that I do.
The fog causes me constant confusion and bewilderment.
I cannot seem to be able to ever escape from the fog. When
I run it…chases me, when I hide…it finds me. When I try
to remember what life was like before the fog, the fog is
too thick to allow me to clearly recall. The fog distorts my
eyesight, my hearing, my perception. It is like viewing a
photograph and instead of seeing a beautiful picture, I see
only a dark blur on a developed photographic negative.
The fog does not allow me to feel true, raw emotion any longer.
When I see people react with spontaneous emotion, and loud
uninhibited chuckles of laughter, I know that the fog is not their
faithful companion. But their ability to feel, and to react gives me
hope. I then am able to recall that fog is condensed water vapor in
cloud-like masses hovering near the ground, limiting visibility.
And the answer to the fog somehow emerges from within the
depth of my soul. My visibility is only limited due to extenuating
circumstances. That means that the fog is temporary, a minor
inconvenience…nothing to fear. It cannot hurt me, it cannot absorb
me, it cannot cause me to dissipate. I am still me. The fog will clear
with time and patience and persistence. And when I am again
able to see with clarity, I will remind myself to never take for
granted clear skies, and bright sunshine.
This is a medication side-effect analogy,
by: Debbie M. Wilson