Mist is a strange thing, essentially it is water droplets hanging in the air, causing poor visibility. Think of a time you have looked out to see a bank of mist, it seems to gather in blocks, with fingers, tendrils reaching forward and growing, it creeps over the landscape with a silent warning.
This is what happens inside an M.E/Fibro mind. We can seemingly be operating at near normal levels and feel capable, productive even, but then the mist develops, like clouds bursting into our vision. it blankets our brain, dulling our senses and darkening our sight. We can use this as a warning sign, when this starts we need to stop, disconnect, rest and hopefully reset and begin again.
The misty canvas crawls inside our heads, like a voile curtain at first, becoming a woolen scarf blocking out all. Imagine now tying a thin scarf around your head and eyes and trying to move and do something, can you even speak? Next try an actual thicker woolen scarf and tie it tight. This is us! this can happen for a period of any, every day. How much would you get done like this with your senses, thoughts, sight impaired?
Here I want to credit all sufferers of chronic illness, anything you manage to do is amazing! So often I forget about this symptom, it overcomes me so naturally and is such a part of daily existence that I rarely think of it anymore. It is however an important symptom and it takes a terrible toll on us. Being gradually smothered by your own brain is something else.
I am thinking of the mist rolling in from the sea, reaching out over a beach, it is a beautiful image, but when the beach is your brain, it is not so pleasant. I am distinguishing also, mist from fog; I think of these two differently, they have close similarities, yet mist is the more gentle of the two, through the mist I can make small progress, fog on the other hand is a different story. I will get on to that topic soon.
With the mist spreading within, I can now complete certain tasks, I can follow simple exercise instructions, if being lead, a stretch class or something gentle that doesn’t warrant physical co-ordination. The kind of class where you can lie down and close your eyes. I can get myself home through the mist, using my internal homing beacon and slither into bed like a snake who has lost her skin. I do not succeed at anything requiring independent thought or speech. I can follow but I can not lead myself.
The blurriness will only intensify. At some point in our journey, we all try to clear our heads of this unsolicited symptom. For me, dunking in to cold running water, a river or stream, most appeals. The ions created from breaking water have a magical effect on our brains. I have a cold water bath in the garden and on these summer days I can plunge down into this and shock myself in to another mode, but any reprieve perceived is short lived.
Lets face it, even if it was the best solution, we can hardly carry a bucket of cold water with us all day. ‘Excuse me I just have to dunk?’ would hardly be accepted in the work place. We can try mini rest breaks and summon up our strength to continue, despite the debilitation, but this like a plaster over a gaping wound. Reset is needed and that is that. When the mist moves our time is nearly up, we can but organise our lives into manageable chunks, do what we can before that dark shadow passes over us.
If only we could blow into it like a harsh wind and watch it disperse.
Chris. xx
Living With ME 