And then there are other days, when my heart can’t soar. Without reason or warning, the haze moves in and clouds my view.
Too heavy, gravity pulls down with an increased determination. Like a foot pushing down on my chest if I try to get up: I’m stuck in the slump.
My body moves “normally” from place to place. I smile, converse, even laugh. Yet, my mind trudges along slowly through the day, trying unsuccessfully to move out of the swampy fog. So tired, so weak.
I slog, slog, slog my way through the thick fog clouding my senses. Something inside me tries to jump out of it but, like in a dream, I’m paralyzed and pulled down by the unknown heaviness.
Panic seeps in and adds even more confusion to the already dense fog. Must find a way out, keep trudging, keep moving. Don’t let the heaviness swallow me.
A light – a glow so small I almost don’t see it – twinkles through the dense heaviness. Brighter…brighter it grows. I reach for it, desperately clasp it in my hands and let it cut through the fog and make a path through the darkness.
Feet get lighter, fog thins and clears. Keep going, keep trudging, you’re getting there. Almost in the clear again.
