Beside Myself

I was beside myself this week. And I had moments of satisfaction and happiness. But mostly I was beside myself—overcome with worry and anger and extreme sadness. We have made progress—good, satisfying progress on our church becoming a trauma responsive church. It is a nascent initiative that holds great promise, and it is extremely difficult to navigate into a practical, workable existence. Especially in a week like this one. The George Floyd trial wrapping up in Minneapolis. Another shooting death of a young black man just north of there. And so many other mass shootings in just one week’s time that I can’t even keep track of them. Then a friend with a devastating diagnosis, and the untimely death of yet another who deeply felt the pain of the world. Trauma upon trauma is piling up on us all, and the more vulnerable are paying an unsustainable, body- and soul-pounding price. And with each and every one trauma, the ripples of distress and devastation roll out into the lives of families and to society as a whole. I am not exaggerating.

This week’s weather has depicted the ups and downs of the week at large. A beautiful, life-sustaining rain gave rise to opening leaf and flower buds. After the long Winter months, there is a hold-your-breath moment when dormant trees and plants begin to show that life is once again flowing and growing. With a sigh of relief and wonder, I whisper, “There it is.”

‘Life-sustaining’ is a phrase that should be on our lips and our minds in all we do. Is this a life-, person-, earth-sustaining practice? Animals, plants, and people alike respond to practices and gestures that sustain life.

By mid-week, clouds rolled in again. As snow fell, I sent a card to a dear old friend, happily baked a cake for a young one, and laughed on a phone call I received.

The news can be devastating and yet we put one foot in front of the other. We gather our food and nourish our bodies. We help one another the best we can, even when our attempts seem to fall far short of what is actually needed.

We are all in this together—in this society, on this Earth, in this time in history.

By the end of the week, we had sunshine, warmth, and blue skies.

Sun-drenched catkins will produce pollen or seeds before leafing out in the life cycle of a Poplar tree.

Honeysuckle shrubs produce leaves before flowering. Every Spring plant and animal is intent on creating and sustaining life. Therein we have Hope and Beauty.

The phrases ‘beside myself’ and ‘out of my mind’ are used to describe the dissociative ways we deal with overwhelm and trauma. We are not ourselves—literally—in body or mind when events or occurrences produce such overpowering sensations and feelings. We make space, turn away from, become ‘not like me,’ do things and say things we may regret later. We step out of our bodies and ‘lose our minds’ when the trauma is ‘too much,’ when the discord between our life view and reality is so great that we literally can’t stand it. Many people are experiencing ‘too much.’ A common way for people to turn away and make space from overwhelm is to try to ‘calm’ our bodies with something that makes us feel better—I tend to use food, others use alcohol, drugs, shopping, or gambling. They are coping mechanisms that can lead to addiction and to other collateral damage. So while it seems like a good idea in the moment and can actually give us some relief temporarily, in the long run, it can be much more problematic. So what do we do? We start small. We find small things that give us a feeling of relief or happiness or satisfaction. I do qigong every morning to stretch and move my body. Yoga works. Running works. I walk in Nature to calm my body and mind. Hobbies work. Reading works. Connecting with others in some form of affirming communication is probably one of the greatest life-sustaining practices we can do. Love and acceptance activates the parasympathetic branch of our autonomic nervous system that calms our body and minds. And once again, life is flowing and growing.