Thick

The fog outside is thick like pea soup tonight and serving as a most suitable metaphor for the dense legume puree that has taken hold of my mind this week. I need a crosswind to clear the air. I've been listless, distracted, and maybe even apathetic, and it's not the gray March days. Sunday night I tucked Miss Bit in at 8:30 and then tucked myself in at 8:31. Monday I skipped my workout, Tuesday I skipped my volunteer work, and today I skipped showering (until 10 minutes ago that is). It's not even 8:00 yet, but I am already eagerly anticpating my bedtime. This suffocating fog is filled with self-doubt and riddled with insecurity. Words like indecision, regret, anxiety, fear, and paralysis take on new meaning during times like this. The days feel long...and yet, short at the same time. When I am in such a state, sleep is my tried and true escape...my single reprieve. Writing doesn't even work, which is why I have been quiet here.

But the thing about fog that I have come to understand is that eventually it lifts. Before long I can see from one side of the street to the other again. Before long I can see tomorrow and the next day and the day after, and know that although I may not have all the answers, I'll get the ones I need along the way.