All morning, I feel so out-of-sorts. It seems hard to breathe, and the whole morning feels like I’m wading through molasses. Is something wrong with me? What if I collapse right here?
Then, I get into the elevator next to a woman who takes one look at me and says, “It’s that kind of day, right? I can’t breathe in this muggy weather. It’s the worst kind of day! I can’t decide if it’s hot or cold, raining or not, and it’s just hard to move.”
We stand there looking at each other as the elevator rises. I nod my head a little too enthusiastically and shout, “Yes! The breathing part! I thought something was wrong with me! And it is hard to move.”
“It’s the humidity today. Off the charts. Nobody can breathe. It’s not just you.”
It’s not just me. I’m not alone. I want to squeeze her and hop around and say, “We’re not alone! We’re together in this!” And now, this out of sorts day feels manageable and back aligned. I don’t feel as crazy. Then a dear friend calls to tell me something similar about her own experience of this day, and we share our stories of feeling out-of-sorts.
I remember that when we proclaim what we’re going through, we don’t feel so alone.
It’s that kind of day, right?