SEE THROUGH THE FOG
Fog can be beautiful… magical.
Well, first of all, I would like to broach the subject of “gray v/s grey.” American English likes “gray,” British English likes “grey,” and Nkrumah likes “grey.” Not sure why I like one over the other, but there you have it… I got no serious explanation for it.
I know you’re probably wondering why this blog seems so blah. Well, it’s because I’ve been feeling a little blah. I know that social media tends to show the overly happy or straight up crazy things in life, but sometimes we forget the grey. Usually, I like grey: fuzzy grey sweaters, cozy grey mittens, dazzling grey eyes, brilliant grey hair. Grey, as a color, is beautiful. Grey in my mind… is a step closer to black, and the darkness is where depression lives.
I know I seem happy literally all the time. But the truth is… even I have my grey Eeyore moments, and I’ve been having a few moments over the past several weeks. Some days are great and others are not so great. In the spirit of being my most authentic self with all of you, I’m going to lay it all on the table… lay myself bare… as they say. (I don’t know who says, but I’ve heard them.)
So, over the past three perhaps four months, I have been deeply sad. And when I say deeply sad, I mean so deep that for weeks I only felt it in my dreams. I’ve been feeling pulled in so many different directions and lacking in the self-confidence and self-esteem I feel is needed to accomplish anything. Which then leads to feeling unworthy (or like a fraud) to the people around me. I hear this little voice in the back of my head, “Why do they want to hang out with me?” “Seriously, I’m not that funny.” “Why do they like me; they can do so much better.” Saying these out loud, they sound ridiculous, really. But in my quiet moments alone… they feel real.
I have had a recurring nightmare recently. I’m not usually prone to nightmares because the moment I realize it’s a nightmare, I do crazy things in my dream to change it. Example: Zombies are chasing me through Manhattan (why Manhattan? because it’s always Manhattan). I’m tired, fed up, and legit hungry. I then realize that zombies aren’t real, so why the hell am I running my ass off? I quit running and start walking. The zombies catch up. I simply look at them and say, “Not today. I’m tired.” The zombies then shrug and leave. End of Example. Well, the nightmare I’ve been having lately makes me feel unbearably cold, scared, and alone. I’m standing in the center of a dark room, and there is a spotlight on me. There’s an echo in the room, so I believe it’s empty. But it’s not. Out of the darkness, hands come out trying to touch me. I don’t see people, just hands and arms. At first the hands are gentle… curious. But I don’t want to be touched, so I avoid them. The more I avoid them, the more aggressive they become. One grabs me and leaves a bruise on my arm. Another one scratches my leg. Scared, I almost begin crying, but that’s when another hand comes out of the darkness. This one isn’t grabbing. It’s palm up and waiting for me to place my hand in it. I know this hand. I know this person. Relieved, I place my hand in the waiting hand, and I wake up.
That’s crazy, right? I never got to tell the person whose hand saved me about the dream. At first, I was weirded out by the implication of needing to be rescued. Also, I have a very complicated relationship with said person, and though I trust them, a small part of me doesn’t want to trust them. I want to be self sufficient. I am self sufficient. But on an off day… I, as if offended, told this person that “I handle my business!” I didn’t mean to be harsh. I’m just tired of people occasionally treating me like a kid or a porcelain doll. Also, the dream lingering in the back of my mind, didn’t help.
Anyway, I’ve been second guessing myself since I first had the dream, and I’ve had it four more times since then. From there… the dark thoughts began coming through my waking hours, leaving cracks in my self-esteem, and allowing sadness and doubt to seep in. Why am I telling you all of this? Because. I’m not perfect. I have doubts. I’m not always confident. And sometimes, I need to find a way to pick myself up and keep smiling. Exercise helps. Friends & “some” family help. A walk in the woods (nod to Bill Bryson) helps.
I love grey foggy days. They feel mystical - like anything can happen. I try to remember that when I’m down and try to focus on the magical moments through the grey… through the fog in my mind. And sometimes, just getting through the fog makes you feel stronger… invincible. I tell myself, life is long, this is a moment in time. Find the the silver lining in this moment, and learn from it. And if I can’t? Well, I call for help before I can’t.
If you made it this far… thanks for reading. Remember, it takes courage to ask for help; I’ve added phone numbers below.
The National Hopeline Network (800) 442-4673
If you’re a veteran, there’s the Veterans Crisis Line: (800) 273-8255
