Foggy

January 6th

You know that feeling in the morning when you wake up and your soft snuggly blankets are now much too warm and you need to fling them off and join the human race?

No?

I do.

It’s the same feeling I get at the tail end of a brain-fog “spell.”

You know that feeling when you wake up an hour or so before you need to get up and the blankets are still perfectly snuggly and comfy? That’s where I am today with my brain fog.  I know it won’t last and the time will come when the fog tosses itself aside. 

I love those moments!

It’s like the sun comes out and I am teleported to a beach with 75-degree weather, sparkles dancing across the waves, and no humidity. I can walk barefoot through my thoughts while creative ideas lap at my feet in individual waves.

I am not in that moment now, but I take comfort in knowing it will be here.

What does life with brain fog feel like? Well, at its strongest, I remember a doctor saying that if this was her she’d be so angry and frustrated. At the time, I didn’t understand. I do know that the fog isn’t nearly as thick and overpowering as it was back then. Back then, it was like my brain was floating along in a small boat on mostly calm seas…and very low visibility.

January 17, early morning

Status: still foggy

I’m posting this because I haven’t posted in forever.

Maybe I should say I’m foggy again. There were a few days over the past week or so when I spent time with one or more of our kids. That is time well spent when fog-free!

I woke this morning, earlier than usual. The blankets were too warm and I flung them off and wondered, could the fog be lifting?

But, here I sit with my cup of Nantucket, fixing spelling mistakes every fourth word or so.  No, the fog hasn’t lifted and I’m fairly certain this post is wandering the shores of my brain a bit searching for sea glass. 

How does this tie into being over 60, the focus of this blog?

It makes me thankful I’m not in the workforce or raising children (or heaven forbid raising teenagers!) while navigating this.

In gratitude,

The Foggy Llama