The thing about the mental fog that comes with loss, loss of any kind, is that you can’t just rent a wind machine and blow it away. You can’t will it away, or wish it away. For that matter, half the time you don’t even realize you’re in a fog.
Nasty stuff, fog. And when it starts to lift, it tends to do what fog so often does. It rolls right back in again.
But eventually it dissipates for good, and then you’re left to figure out where you are, where you want to go next. Sometimes you even need to know who you want to be next, because you were in the fog for so long that your world changed shape while it was waiting for you to come back. Friends left. Your job changed. The world moved on because it exists in a fog-free zone. Lucky world.
I’ve always thought that the biggest failing of the 12 Step programs is that they don’t have a thirteenth step and a fourteenth step. Why stop at 12?
Because the thirteenth step involves leaving the past behind and joining the present. No one has written a program for that. But they should. Maybe Cee and I will.
Peace and many hugs, my friends.