10. March 2026

Living in the Fog

By Jenny Kuemmel, Host of Momma Drama & Trauma

January became a month where the weight of everything finally pressed down on me in a way I could not ignore. The shock had faded months earlier but the aftermath caught up with me in a deeper more relentless way.

It was not dramatic or loud. It was quiet heavy and numbing. I was surviving functioning breathing taking care of my kids but inside I felt foggy and disconnected from myself. It was like my body finally realized the truth my mind had been trying to outrun.

What the Fog Looked Like for Me

This was not the month of constant breakdowns or daily tears.
It was a different kind of hard. A quieter one.

The fog looked like:

waking up exhausted no matter how much I slept
going through the motions without actually being there
crying without fully understanding what triggered it
feeling overwhelmed by the simplest decisions
functioning for my kids while feeling empty inside
forgetting things that were normally easy for me
feeling distant from myself and my emotions
waiting for clarity that never seemed to come

It was the month of just getting by.
The month where everything felt blurry. My mind my future my heart.

The Emotional Reality Behind the Fog

January showed me something I did not understand before.

Sometimes your body shuts down before your mind catches up.

I was not in denial anymore.
I was not in crisis mode anymore.
I was not in shock anymore.

I was in something different. Something heavier.

The quiet sadness.
The deep exhaustion.
The emotional shutdown.
The mental fog.

My heart was tired.
My mind was tired.
My soul was tired.

January felt like my entire system saying

I cannot keep surviving like this. I need a minute to breathe.

And that minute lasted the entire month.

Why Living in the Fog Happens

Emotional fog is incredibly common after betrayal trauma. It is the brain’s way of protecting you when you have been carrying too much pain for too long.

It can come from:

emotional overload
prolonged stress
heartbreak that has no quick answers
trying to make sense of something senseless
holding everything together for your kids
pretending you are okay when you are breaking inside

The fog is your brain trying to keep you safe by

slowing things down
numbing intensity
creating emotional space
preventing complete overwhelm

It does not mean you are weak.
It does not mean you are failing.
It means your system is doing the best it can while navigating pain you never asked for.

What Helped Me Survive the Fog

Even though I did not have a full roadmap these were the things that helped me make it through January’s fog one day at a time.

1. Lowering my expectations of myself

Not every day had to be productive.
Some days were about survival and that was enough.

2. Keeping things simple

Easy meals.
Light tasks.
Short routines.

I focused on what actually mattered and let the rest fall away.

3. Letting myself feel the numbness instead of fighting it

I did not force emotion or clarity.
I let myself sit exactly where I was.

4. Taking care of my body even when my mind felt distant

Drinking water.
Resting when I needed it.
Walking.
Feeding myself even without appetite.

Small physical acts helped me stay grounded.

5. Talking to someone when the fog felt too thick

My mom.
A friend.
My journal.

Letting the thoughts out kept me from drowning in them.

6. Creating tiny daily rituals

A hot shower.
A drive alone.
A playlist.
Ten quiet minutes.

These little anchors kept me going.

7. Reminding myself the fog was temporary

Even if I could not feel hope I reminded myself that nothing stays the same forever.

8. Letting go of the need to have answers

I did not know what the future looked like and I allowed myself to not know.

9. Not shaming myself for being in survival mode

Survival mode is still survival.
It means I was still here still trying.

10. Holding onto the tiniest sparks of hope

Even when I did not feel strong I honored the part of me that kept showing up every day.

Final Thoughts: The Fog Was Not Failure. It Was Transition

January taught me that healing is not a clean straight line.

Sometimes the hardest part is not the discovery itself.
It is the slow quiet months where you are still trying to find your footing again.

Living in the fog did not mean I was not healing.
It meant my heart needed time.
My mind needed space.
My soul needed rest.

Now looking back I can see January for what it really was.

A bridge.
A pause.
A necessary quiet.
A moment between shock and becoming.

The fog did not break me.
It eventually cleared and when it did it made room for the clarity and strength that came later.

As Always

You are strong.
You are worthy.
And your story matters.
Until next time take care of you. 💗