By: Abigail Lane
Read more of her story on her blog: www.peaceandjoyblog.com
It’s been a bit dreary for awhile.
I don’t mind rain or clouds. I don’t mind the storms.
But it’s the fog that gets me. The fog is stifling. It’s a room without a window or a door.
The fog surrounds you. You can’t see what is ahead. You can’t even see what is behind. You can only see right here, right now and you see you in the middle of the haze. It’s hopeless.
Storms aren’t as bad because they don’t last forever. There are black clouds looming over you but you can see the sun in the distance. You see the beginning and the end. You’re in the middle and it’s hard. The rain pounds, the wind stirs, but you know it will end. You might be left with destruction and pain but you know the storm doesn’t last forever. There’s a time coming to rebuild. The sun breaks through the clouds and you take a deep breath. You can move forward.
But the fog.
It feels like there’s no beginning, no end. Just fog. All you see is despair.
You being to wonder, is this my life now? Will the fog ever end? I can’t see where this is going. Is the fog even moving or has it set up camp here forever? It feels like you can’t escape. You could try and run but as far as you can run, it’s still there. You can try and jump to see above it or crouch down to find the end, but it reaches as high or as low as you can get. You can try and yell out into the fog but the sound falls dead. There’s no one there. You can’t see another soul. You can’t hear another voice. You can’t see the sun even though you pray it will relieve you of the fog. You might not even be sure the sun is real anymore, that light is even possible.
You don’t ask for the fog. You don’t want the fog. They warn you about it. They said it happens sometimes. But even when you’re in the fog, you don’t always see it.
The thing about fog is that we can’t control when it comes or how long it stays. We can’t control the severity or the way it manifests itself. You might take a questionnaire about the fog but it might not even line up on paper. The fog doesn’t always look the same for everyone.
Maybe the fog makes you sad. Maybe it makes you angry. Maybe it makes you numb. It might make you confused for all I know. Your fog might be a thin veil barely casting a shadow on your joy. Or your fog might be so thick that you can’t even see the faces of your children anymore.
All you see are little beings that scream, cry, and demand everything you have. They steal your sleep. They steal your alone time. You feel like they are stifling everything that makes you you. You see other people who should be making this better, a spouse or whoever is closest. You misread everything they do because you only see life through the lens of a fog. There are people you love who can’t see the fog but they know it’s there because you aren’t you anymore. You’re a version that they didn’t ask for either. They are victims of the fog, too.
And that’s the scary thing about the fog: you have to give to them out of an empty well. No- it’s not even empty. But it’s full of despair. Despair doesn’t bring joy and love to give. It’s full of anger, sadness, or numbness. None of which you truly want to give to the people you love. But it’s all you have. So it’s all you give.
You can try to muster up enough breath to blow the fog away. You can bring in fans to billow air to push it until it’s gone. You can plead with the sun to come out, come out and show me what light is again because the fog is so dark. You can throw Bible verses at the fog. You can throw therapy at the fog. You might even throw medicine at the fog.
And these things do help. It helps pull the fog away a little. You might deal with it better. You might learn how to cope with it until it lifts. Maybe theses tools will lift your fog entirely. But for some, for many, we wait until it lifts on its own. We use things that help us cope but we wait until the sun decides that it is time.
The day will come. Oh, the glorious day will come! The fog lifts. It moves on. The cage is unlocked and your lungs fill with fresh air. Your skin feels the warmth of the sun. Your eyes- they can see again! You see a beginning and the end. You see sunshine and life. You finally see the face of the sweet baby you were given. You see the faces of the people you love. You hear the giggle and relish in the joy of the smile. You kiss because you finally feel like you truly love again. You play. The playing is so much better now.
Life is joyful again.
Life is hopeful again.
Life is sunny again.
You can give from a well of joy because you finally have joy again. You can pour out from a well of love because you finally feel love again. You can show grace and patience to the people who spend life with you because you finally see that they aren’t the real enemy. You see their faces again.
The fog. It lifts. You can’t always lift it yourself but wait for it to move on. And it does. It might surprise you. You feel a smile come again and it’s a smile that you can’t force or ask for. It’s just what you do. It’s the most natural, life-giving feeling. It’s warm. It’s inviting.
The sun is here again.