The Wisper Beneath I Am Fine!

 

Some days are like driving through fog. One moment, the world disappears into grey — muffled, unclear, lost. The next, the sun breaks through, the view is perfect, and you wonder how it ever felt so heavy. Then — fog again. Repeat.

I once helped a friend through deep postnatal depression with that image. Now here I am, needing to remember it for myself.

Because today… caught me off guard.

I’ve been good. Riding a high, really — life unfolding in beautiful ways. A great weekend behind me, another one ahead, a rhythm I can almost trust. And then this feeling. No warning. Just sadness, like a silent wave brushing up against me while I wasn’t looking.

A friend noticed it — before I even put words to it. We started talking. He lifted me without knowing, and in the lifting, I realized he was carrying something much heavier than me. His own depression. Quiet. Quiet enough to miss — unless you’ve stood in the fog yourself.

We got talking about how we all cope nowadays. We disappear into the unreal. Games, wine, running, scrolling — whatever it takes to feel better fast. Just enough to float above it. Just enough to function.

But why are we so afraid to just stop?

To breathe. To feel. To face the ache instead of dodging it?

Because it takes time. It takes energy. It takes something most of us feel we don’t have — not when we’re just trying to keep everything together.

So we whisper: I’m fine.

We say it on autopilot. We cope while not coping. We hold the tears just behind the eyes.

And no one knows.

That whisper — that damn whisper — I know it. I live it.

And maybe, this post is mine today.

(And yes, my daughter lives it too. The silent scream of a mother who lost her child. I watch her every day — coping while not coping. And it breaks me. Over and over.)

Some days the fog settles in. That doesn’t mean we’re broken. It just means we’re human.

So if all you can manage today is a whisper, let it be heard — even if only by yourself.

It’s enough.

You’re enough.