The fog...

If someone close to me I believe that I would be broken. I think about myself in terms of coping with difficult situations and I find that I can handle almost anything. I would say everything but I know that I cannot handle grief very well. I withdraw and can’t help but see very limited options on how to deal with it. I am trying to prepare my self for the great losses that I know are coming, the death of my parents and grandparents and most of my siblings but I can’t seem to do it. I know that they are going to die eventually and I believe in being prepared but I wish there was a way to prepare for this kind of thing. I am pretty sure that those losses one at a time would break me for a time at each juncture but I think that the total failure of my family dynamic through loss would ruin me to the extent that I may need to be put in some sort of care facility and on a suicide watch. I am sure that anyone who reads this would think that I am missing a few screws to even ponder these kinds of things but this is how I live. I live every day with the scars of past situations and from those experiences I have learned that I can handle a large amount of stress but there is a point that I break and cannot be repaired. Its that point that I try to avoid and those risks I try to mitigate that might bring me close to that point. It is the Royal Ranger in me trying to be ready for anything and I may go one step further and say it’s the Navy training engrained in my head telling me that the time will come and I must be prepared to fight.


I think of a catastrophic even such as a family member dieing and to me it seems as though it would be like a terrible hurricane of pain and agony. The kind that leaves you feeling weak and vulnerable and completely laid bare and naked to everyone around you in a way you would only have nightmares about. I have only graced the fringes of that kind of storm but I been in a different kind of emotional weather phenomena, I am depressed all the time. There has not been a year that I can remember as far back as I can go where I did not spend the majority of it depressed. Perpetual depression to me is nothing like a storm but more like a cold fog. Rather then leaving you stripped bare and naked you’re fully clothed. At first you don’t think it’s a big deal, you say to yourself that “this fog is not bad, it will pass, its kinda comforting…” but if you have ever been in a thick fog you know that the initial feeling of confidence and comfort quickly fade. Fog soaks your clothing and if you’re in it too long it can chill you to the bone. It slowly saps your strength without you realizing, breaks you down and gets into your clothing and you hair. Soon you’re a wet mess of depression and everyone knows it but you. You can not see very far from where you’re ahead or behind and have very little detail about where you have been since you were in the fog. You just mull your way though your days hoping the fog will lift or you will run into someone else in the fog so that you may travel together through the abyss of emotional deprivation.