In the fog

Have you ever driven into a patch of fog so thick you could barely see a foot in front of you?

When I was a high schoooler in Evergreen we lived on the top of Bear Mountain. In the mornings it wasn't uncommon for a cloud to settle on the top of the mountain, and make it virtually impossible to see the road. But we drove on, because we knew that the cloud had only settled on the top of the mountain and we'd turn the corner and the fog would vanish. The road would be clear before us. 1 turn, maybe 100 yards, would make all the difference.

The last few weeks for me have been like driving in the fog. They have been disorienting and unnerving. I could not see the metaphorical road before me. Depression surrounded me in a way I don't think I've ever experienced before.

I think that I've struggled with depression for my whole adult life. Probably longer. But it was this nameless cloud that hung over me. Now it has a name, and for the most part, I have learned to manage my tendency in healthy ways. But this time it snuck up on me. The fog seeped in and I just kept going, until it got so thick I couldn't see.

I know Depression can be disabling, in theory. But I have always been a high functioning depressed person, so it never really registered, until now. This time, this time was scary, because I knew in my very bones that I was close to being unable to function at all.

How did it become that? How could I have missed the signs? By the grace of God, Eddie saw what I could not. He put a name to the cinderblock boots I wear. He made me call Susan. Susan, my doctor, has been a gift too! And the fog is lifting. I can see the road. I can sleep now, and breathe. I have stopped hurting, physically aching. I am not forgetting the obvious. The flakiness I exibit is just my normal kind...the everyday dippiness of being a head-in-the-clouds kinda girl.

More on this later, but hubby woke up, and we're headed out for a hike.