Beside Myself. (Day 271)

I have a friend who is a regular user of the phrase "I am beside myself." She also uses "whatnot," which I pretend is mine; but it is really hers. I just co-oped it in 2019 and I am not giving it back (sorry Jackie). 

Anyway, it is not that Jackie is regularly in despair, but it is just that when she is, she will say," I am beside myself." And this little phrase just perfectly describes that muted, shunned disbelief we all feel from time to time. 

I am beside myself today. 

September, like my second dose of the COVID vaccine, has decided it will show off all its tricks. And as much as I try not to borrow trouble, trouble is sitting on my lap and leaping into my arms.  There has been so much death and sickness and sorrow and chaos surrounding me and the people I love. At first, I was loud about my sorrow, but I am losing my steam. I feel muted, unable to fully be present and above all, beside myself. 

It literally feels like I am watching myself witness and learn of all the heartache of my loved ones. A friend is dead--and while I loved Anna--there are friends who loved her and knew her more. There is her beautiful family who will now live without her. A child at my daughter's school--a classmate, a future Class of 2027 graduate, but now her family and her sister will go on without her. Coworkers and friends are all experiencing the same heartbreak. It is this broken pandemic world that is catching up to all of us, I think. 

I want you to know that if you reading this and worried about me, don't be. I know I'll bounce back. I think sometimes you have to be beside yourself to witness what is happening, because inside yourself is simply too much to handle. 

So for tonight, I am going to be muted. I've prayed tonight and muted feels where I should be, for now.