The Fog That Follows

I remember in excruciating, vivid detail the day I was told my Mom had taken her own life. It began a strange and scary journey, of trying to make sense of something that simply never would make sense.   The weeks, that followed, however, I don't remember so much.  Actually, for a full year I felt like I was on auto pilot, laughing maniacally one minute, sobbing the next.  Some days I simply did not have the will, the energy, to leave my bed.  The one year anniversary of her death was a turning point for me, and I made a conscious decision that I did not want to live that way for one more minute, that I had to get out of "that place".  I didn't want how she died to be bigger than who she was, didn't want to injure myself with her memory. 

Maneuvering through difficult times is a lot like driving through dense fog. You can’t always see where you’re going, you feel a little lost, you want to turn back, and every mile feels like forever. Yet, scared or fatigued as you might be, there’s nothing you can do but breathe, focus on the road ahead, keep moving forward, and trust that a force with keener vision than yours is out there functioning as your guide. You learn to look for ways to help yourself, and for me that meant learning about depression, raising awareness, and reaching out to others who find themselves in that horrible place as they begin their journey. There are resources out there, there are others who are also trying to find their way.  I'll never give up, and I'll never give in, and I'll never stop trying to prevent it from happening to you, my friends.  Peace.