Fog: "a thick cloud of tiny water droplets suspended in the atmosphere at, or near, the earth's surface; which obscures or restricts visibility, to a greater extent than mist"
Fog restricts visibility. It isolates. Fog means you can't see what's around you. We're more likely to have an accident, because we can't see our surroundings properly. Fog also has an affect on sound. Muffling some noises, and accentuating others (depends on wave length).
Recovering from Depression is the slow lifting of fog. A day of sunshine with a good breeze (got enough sleep, was able to cope all day), can make the fog all but disappear, but a day of cold dampness (when all of the failures and hopelessness become overwhelming), lets the fog set in.
Sometimes the fog of Depression gets so thick, sound genuinely seems muffled. As though I'm wearing a set of invisible headphones. I have to concentrate so hard on listening to people, that the sense of what they're saying gets lost. I mishear conversations, and it can feel like the people around me are speaking a different language.
A great deal of my Depression was triggered by the ostracization from my children. Spending time with my nephew brings me happiness, but oh, it hurts too. Spending time with my best friend's children, who have a sincerely beautiful relationship with her, feels like having all my skin torn off, and forced into a sand storm. It HURTS. I haven't gone to visit for far too long.
There are times I welcome the fog; it hides reality from me. It distorts the world, into one of soft edges, and gentle noises. It's beautiful in it's pearlescent opaqueness. I feel comforted, and calm. Hidden from caustic reality, and invisible to cruelty. It's quiet and peaceful.
It's dangerous to me though, because it feels safe. It's SO not safe. I could easily fall into a pit of despair, or get tumbled into the rocks of self-harm. I can't see the people around me trying to keep me from walking into a bus, or trying to lift my head to see the sun.
I miss my children. The grief of loss is perpetual. The fog forecast isn't great for tomorrow.
Derri
Recovering from Depression is the slow lifting of fog. A day of sunshine with a good breeze (got enough sleep, was able to cope all day), can make the fog all but disappear, but a day of cold dampness (when all of the failures and hopelessness become overwhelming), lets the fog set in.
Sometimes the fog of Depression gets so thick, sound genuinely seems muffled. As though I'm wearing a set of invisible headphones. I have to concentrate so hard on listening to people, that the sense of what they're saying gets lost. I mishear conversations, and it can feel like the people around me are speaking a different language.
A great deal of my Depression was triggered by the ostracization from my children. Spending time with my nephew brings me happiness, but oh, it hurts too. Spending time with my best friend's children, who have a sincerely beautiful relationship with her, feels like having all my skin torn off, and forced into a sand storm. It HURTS. I haven't gone to visit for far too long.
There are times I welcome the fog; it hides reality from me. It distorts the world, into one of soft edges, and gentle noises. It's beautiful in it's pearlescent opaqueness. I feel comforted, and calm. Hidden from caustic reality, and invisible to cruelty. It's quiet and peaceful.
It's dangerous to me though, because it feels safe. It's SO not safe. I could easily fall into a pit of despair, or get tumbled into the rocks of self-harm. I can't see the people around me trying to keep me from walking into a bus, or trying to lift my head to see the sun.
I miss my children. The grief of loss is perpetual. The fog forecast isn't great for tomorrow.
Derri
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