There are days when I’m as sharp as a tack; ready to take on my day with gusto, gumption, guts. These days, it’s best not to be in my way. As I may have mentioned, I have a tendency to “mow” people down in my path. It’s an Aries rising thing. These are the days I feel my best. However, I always get the impression others duck when they see me headed their way on these particularly “productive” days. I’m always questioning why. And I realized, people gravitate toward calmness, and I’m anything but.
On the days when I’m out to change the world, I usually end up alienating myself. People who’ve claimed to see me in public will wait to tell me after the fact. “Well, I didn’t say hello because you seemed distracted,” is a pretty common response.
I’m always distracted because I’m always thinking.
Thinking alienates me from the rest of the world? How can this be?
I’ve fought with this issue most of my life. So, I’ve decided to be more aware of the fog. All mom’s have it, we just kind of exist under and within it. It follows us where ever we go. The origins of the fog date back to our very first experience as new parents; new moms. It’s the “What the fuck just happened?” state of perplexity. This eventually forms a cloud — a fog — over our heads. As far as I can tell, it’s permanent. The longer we’re a mom, the thicker it gets. You can learn to live with it; it’s even possible to be a productive member of society. Time slows down, things fall into place. Life looks good. I’ve marveled at those who’ve chosen to obey the fog. Three kids in tow at the park or the supermarket, letting them run and climb and scream all while strolling as if they haven’t a care in the world. They’ve let the fog take over, instead of fighting it. Classy.
My fog is a low, warm fog; it shifts with my changing moods. Lately, it’s been thickening, calling me to seek refuge. I usually fight it, I can’t get anything done if I’m aimlessly drifting.
But maybe that’s the point.