And the fog set in

I had been doing really well—at least, I thought I was.

I was being more social than ever since the suicide attempt: meeting with multiple friends, attending a formal event (a beautiful wedding), going to the movies, talking about writing, pursuing the things I’m passionate about.

I was doing all of these things, and I had been doing really well. The strain on my relationship with my family had lessened; the unbridled guilt—the very same that swallowed me up after being released from the hospital—had diminished significantly. I was happier, and I felt so.

And then the fog set in.

It was a complete collapse of a human psyche—my very own—that rendered me completely powerless. Yesterday I lay in bed, curled up in a ball, hearing the sounds of an outside world fail to pierce through to my own: to the little one in which a small, frightened person dwells. I clammed up; I completely lost control; and suddenly all the progress I felt I had made in the three weeks prior felt nothing, felt as if it were absolutely nothing.

Some call it depression, but I call it a fog.

It can come swiftly (usually overnight, so that you awaken to its presence in the morning), and when it does you are completely lost in it—that, or can’t see further than only what is immediately apparent: problems, those that loom around you like the shadowy outlines of monsters lurking in the fog. It’s frightening. It’s easy to get lost in it.

Yesterday, I again had suicidal thoughts. Nothing active. More of what I’ve heard others and my therapist call “passive” thoughts. Regardless, they are a different kind of scary…

“Wouldn’t it be easier?” “Wouldn’t they all be better off without me?” and so starts the spiral.

I’m not sure what it was that really changed things. Perhaps it was as simple as waiting for the fog to dissipate, and seeing that all those large, looming monsters from before were in fact just shapes of regular things rendered fantastic by the fog, and nothing really all that scary at all.

It could be because of a class I had to take (sometimes watching others living normal lives reminds you of your own; at least, sometimes it can for me).

Or it may have just been me recognizing that I needed to clean my room; that this thing I had neglected needed to be done, and that I possessed the power to do it.

Regardless of what it was, eventually the fog did dissipate, and once more I could see things clearly as they were. I saw that these problems from before weren’t all that scary; that I have many, many reasons to live beyond just what is immediate; and that even though I lost a day, another would come, another in which I could make up what I had lost.

And so today, before it sets in again, I’m going to venture out into it. A visit to our local Shady coffee shop should do the trick. I was going to get some work done (I still have to at some point today), but maybe before that happens I’ll write a story, or work on one that’s already in progress.

The point is, I’m going out. I’m going out into the fog. But this time I’ll have a lantern, this time I’ll keep myself illuminated with positive thoughts that yesterday I lost.

But, I’ve found them again. Today, I’ve found myself again.

And I’m going to try not to lose them again.

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