Four weeks since my mom died, and I am deep in the fog of grief. I just heard the term this weekend, and it so perfectly captures what it feels like right now. “What happens is that our grief gets so heavy that it surrounds us, clouds our minds, and interferes with our ability to think clearly. We’re on overload,” writes Kenneth C. Haugk.
That’s it exactly. It feels as if every morning when I wake up I (involuntarily) pick up a heavy backpack of emotion, and carry it through the day. It is exhausting. The fog is mental (my brain is on a go-slow) and physical (I feel as if I’m moving through soup) and emotional (everything is heavy and murky). It totally sucks.
And that term ‘overload’ is so helpful, because that’s the other part of it. It feels as if I’m already 80% full of emotion, so any other little thing tips me over the edge. I’ve checked in with my brothers and they feel the same way – snappy, emo, crying, unable to look forward to anything. Let me say it again: it totally sucks.
Because it’s not something I’m going to snap out of any time soon. Yes, this deep overwhelming sadness will fade, the fog will lift, but then what? I’m not going to get my mom back. I’m never going to get my mom back.
The only thing that has been vaguely illuminating in the fog – the one ray of sunshine – has been the work I’m doing with Sweet Life for our November campaign. I put the wheels in motion before all this, thank heavens, or I wouldn’t have had the strength to initiate it now. We’re organising a nationwide diabetes testing campaign: collating all the free blood sugar testing and doing a huge PR drive to make diabetes front page news during November so that everyone understands how important it is to get their blood sugar tested, at least once a year. It feels like it has the potential to change lives. I can get (momentarily) excited about it. That feels like something of a miracle, at the moment…
Otherwise it’s just one day at a time. Being kind to myself, eating well, sleeping, watching rom coms – and working and momming as usual. If there’s one thing I can look forward to, it’s the day the fog lifts.