The Fog

There was a particular few days during sixth grade that were unusually foggy. I walked nearly a mile to get to school with my younger sister, Rebecca. She was very nervous and scared; so was I.

In efforts to make the situation better for Rebecca, I pretended to be unafraid. I was surprised that she believed me. In hindsight, I think she needed so desperately to believe I was unafraid, that she ignored my struggling voice, shaky hands, and hurried demeanor.

I recall during that entire walk, that I felt like someone was following us. It was a very haunting feeling that would linger off and on not just that foggy week, but throughout my life.

Rebecca wasn’t insensitive for ignoring my feelings. I was 11 years old; she was three years younger. We were just kids and she needed a fearless big sister, so I did my best. But this memory brings to light the reality that at times, we are oblivious of others feelings, or are so consumed inward, that we do not see the people standing next to us that are also in the midst of something terrifying or overwhelming too.

There are also times when you are the one having to be strong, when on the inside you are screaming in the sinews. Sometimes you are the one standing in a fog, feeling uneasy, and feeling watched. Sadly, sometimes it doesn’t feel as though there is someone there to be fearless for you.

There have been many times in my life where I have felt like I have revisited this kind of foggy journey, alone.

I struggle with anxiety and panic. However, it’s absolutely amazing what you can do when there are rocks in the pit of your stomach, flowing tears, hair standing on end, and frenzied butterflies throughout the body.

Right now, I am listening to soothing bedtime music playing while my son is trying to fall asleep. I am alone and for some reason I feel the stirrings of anxiety knocking.

I am recalling the foggy sixth grade walk and the haunting feelings associated in some odd effort to deconstruct this shit that is internally boiling. And then it occurred to me, of course I would feel the presence of others in a fog. Even that day walking to school, Rebecca and I probably weren’t the only ones walking out there on the way to school - we just couldn’t see them. Why would simply living life be any different? I’m frequently oblivious.

If you drop the cognitive and emotional fog that I am in, I am surrounded. At this moment, in the next room is a sleeping five year old and at my feet are two totally cute dogs. Downstairs I have a tenant. Outside I have my neighbors. I just received a few texts from co-workers, a couple church friends, and two clients, etc.

Sometimes, like right now, I can swear that I feel the entrance of a spirit in the room. Call me crazy, but it feels so real. This spirit has one goal. That is to reach through the fog, hold my hand and let me know that I have nothing to fear.

Ah, could it be Rebecca who is here to hold my hand? Is that why I am recalling this fog story? She passed away a few years ago. What a sweet thing if it is her.