As the fog lifts

Spring fog is both haunting and beautiful simultaneously.  As I sip coffee in the morning, my eyes behold the haziness of the landscape.   I can barely see the birds on the feeder pecking for food or the silly grey squirrels chasing one another around my yard.  The color of the tree buds are not quite clear yet. My sleepy eyes try to adjust to the grey fog in hopes that it will soon burn off and give way to some sun later on. 

Living near the water increases the chances of morning fog compared to that of living inland.  I have learned this over the years.  When I arise from my sleep to start the day, my mood is immediately affected when I see a heavy, grey fog blanketing the neighborhood.  It  appears drab and dreary.  Many times I become impatient with it because I desire to experience a bright, sunny morning with some sort of familiar clarity. 

I need to remind myself that Mother Nature takes her time.   She doesn’t rush in lifting her veil.  Slowly but surely the vanishing fog gives way to some vibrant Spring colors.  It is best for me to sit with the process and practice patience and not complain.   

I liken Mother Nature’s fog experience to that of my own personal one.  Chronic M is one continual cycle of up and down, in and out, light and dark.  As the relentless pain phase finally gives way to relief, my body immediately enters a fog phase, better known as the postdromal phase of M. Believe me, it can be just as debilitating as the pain only in a different way.  It feels much like a severe  hangover without the “fun” the night before.  

My brain fog takes over my entire body, not just my head.  I don’t see the world clearly.  My senses are off balance and I can only operate on one speed. SLOW.  I can’t always comprehend what others are saying.  My reading and writing skills diminish greatly.  I have memory gaps which can be really frustrating.  Plainly put, I feel like a total wack-a-doodle!!  

My entire body is SO exhausted from the attack.  It is a type of fatigue that is not really relieved by resting or napping.  It actually just has to wear off on its own.  This feels like it takes forever. When I wander around in my own “M fog”, it makes me feel as if I could jump out of my skin.  No matter how hard I try to push through or speed up the process, it just doesn’t work.  (And no, ten cups of coffee a day don’t help either!).    The more I push, the worse I feel.  Between the M hangover and all the meds I have to take during the attack, I feel as though there is a huge veil over me.  Crazy. 

However, I keep reminding myself that this too shall pass and once again I will return to the land of the living, but sometimes I totally lose patience. 

As I sit here on this foggy Spring morning writing this post, I am emerging from my own M  brain fog and starting to feel lighter and brighter. I sit with joy and gratitude.  I count my many blessings as well as the strength with which God continually provides me to walk this journey.  

In the truthful words of my mama, “Fog means sunshine is coming!”  I need reminding of this every now and then.