Respite

Today, I'm at work, hunched over my computer, trying to stay sane by ignoring phone calls and emails from people demanding my attention. Stuck in my mind is the doctor's diagnosis just over a month ago: depression - now take these meds. The oppression of such a pronouncement weighs heavy and yet today I was able to get up and come to work thanks to the encouragment of a dear friend. "Don't allow yourself to wallow in it" - words from Charles Spurgeon who also struggled with my malady.

The only "lift" Ive had in this bleak, dark month was spending Labor Day weekend trip in Flagstaff. Somehow the excitement of the trip and getting away from everything was able to penetrate through the fog and I was able to function at a semi-normal capacity, at least, observing and going along if not actually interacting. My "mom" there has struggled with depression herself and she was able to encourage me from her own experience. She shared the Charles Spurgeon quote with me. I enjoyed a weekend of rest, reflection, and laughter. There was no negative talk or criticism or one-up-man-ship -- all the conversations were joyful, encouraging, teasing, and/or ridiculous which mostly ended in giggles. I was able to walk in nature, attend a demolition derby, pet animals, buy a bubble gun and ride a carrousel at the county fair, contra-dance until the room was spinning, etc. Anyway, those 2 1/2 days were only a brief bright spot and when I got back I fell even deeper into the nothingness.

Coming back to the city after being in such a restful place is always hard leaving behind great friends and the weekend excitement. This time it was compounded by my medication issues. By midweek I was completely drained and missed work the last two days. I finally got to see my doctor on Friday. He was actually surprised to hear that since taking the prescribed meds I'd gotten progressively worse, sinking deeper into a black hole which had previously only been a "lack of motivation". He gave me a new (more expensive) medication and said if the previous symptoms kept up to stop taking it and give him a call so he could refer me to a psychiatrist. He asked if I'd had any thoughts of hurting myself or contemplating suicide and gave me a suicide hotline number. I told him I hadn't. That would require an urge to do something and I hadn't felt any urges in weeks. Well, not any besides the basic ones like hunger, sleep, thirst, etc. I started the new med that night.

Saturday morning I awoke and smiled. My mind wasn't so foggy. I felt the urge to get up and I actually did. I woke Sarah and chatted her ear off until she threw me out of her room. I fluttered about the house with so much energy that after just 2 hours I crashed back to bed for the rest of the day. I wasn't ready to interact with people until Sunday afternoon at the church picnic. I really enjoyed seeing people I'd missed so much. I felt bad that everyone was so concerned, but explanations seemed too much to get into, and most wouldn't understand anyway. Once again, after a couple of hours, my body said it was time to go rest. Little by little, day by day...

Depression: a whole lot of nothing

Just over a month ago I was diagnosed with depression, which came as a total shock. I consider myself a jovial -- if a bit cynical -- person. I had been under a lot of stress at work and noticed I was more tired than usual. I asked my doctor if I might be suffering from anxiety. After going through a checklist, he determined I was suffering from anxiety due to a lack of concentration and motivation due to depression. He prescribed an anti-depressant and an appetite suppresant because I'd feel better if I lost some weight. Thanks, Doc, I appreciate your blunt... er, frankness.

The first week on the meds was really weird. The appetite suppresant had the effect of drinking 5 double shots of espresso, so I'd take it in the morning. However, the anti-depressant caused me to be extremely drowsy. If I took it too late at night, I was not able to get up the next morning. The contrary side-effects battled it out during the day causing quite a roller coaster at first, but little by little the drowsy, zombie-like state took over. The doctor had said to give it a month to start working.

In that month, I fell further and further into a black hole of nothing. Well, actually, it wasn't really black. I wasn't sad or unhappy. I just didn't feel anything, like the terrible Nothing that destroys Fantasia in the NeverEnding Story. Everything was foggy and distant, I was watching myself clumsily go through the motions of life but I didn't really have much control over what "myself" was doing. I couldn't concentrate on anything. My thoughts would just flit away before I could even complete a sentence. Words would get jumbled in my head. I called people by the wrong name. My mind was a large blank. Sometimes I couldn't even remember what day it was or what I had done during that day.

God was very gracious to me by giving me the necessary energy to drive to work and keep me safe, but once I'd get home I couldn't care enough to do anything but lie in bed . The only "interaction" I could handle was watching tv. The phone would sometimes ring, but I wouldn't even care enough to pick it up to see who it was. I slept in my clothes, went days without a shower, barely ate, but thanks to the "cotton mouth" side effect of the appetite suppresant/morning pill, I drank a lot of water and stayed well hydrated.

I remember two weeks into the medication, I was getting ready for church -- my morning pill had given me a bit of energy -- and then I sat down to put my shoes on and just stayed there holding my shoe staring at the clock tick for 20 minutes. I was conscious that time was passing. I knew that I'd be late for church. I knew people, especially Sarah, would worry, but I could not react. I remember going through all the reasons I should go to church, but none of it sparked a desire to get up or even move. I finally realized I had to go to the bathroom. After I relieved myself I realized I was hungry. So I got some cheerios and filled my waterbottle before spending my last bit of energy to turn on the tv and park myself in front of it. That's where Sarah found me when she came home several hours later. When she inevitably asked me what was wrong the only words I could formulate were "I don't know".

By the middle of the fourth week, I was so exhausted, sapped of mental, social and physical energy that I fell into bed and stayed there through Friday. My mom called me that morning and for some reason I picked up. I calmly told her that I hadn't been able to get up and go to work. I told her, "I know there's something wrong, but I don't feel sad or worried or anything." She urged me to go to my doctor as soon as possible and asked if I wanted her to fly out. I thanked her for the offer, but I didn't think it would be necessary. The only thing I could think about was to have her pray for me. As she was praying I finally had an emotional reaction and my eyes filled with tears.

Intellectualism or Rationalization?

I've heard a lot of people say they like to watch movies that make them "think". These are usually refered to as "films" and they tend to be gritty, controversial, revealing, and rated R or whatever comes after that. I used to be one of those people that thought better of myself because I would allow my mind to be challenged by the ideas presented in such films. However, the older I get the more I find myself avoiding such films when seeking entertainment. I want to be entertained after all, not disturbed. Maybe it's just my increasing laziness the older I get.

Or, it could be because the older I get the more people I encounter that challenge my thinking, both good and bad. The more people I talk to the more food I get for thought. People are interesting and many of their thoughts are controversial. Sure, everyone agrees on the surface, but dig a little deeper and you find that people are pretty opinionated about things, especially if your opinion is contrary to theirs.

I see irony in the trend that many of those personal opinions tend to echo ideas from those "films". Sometimes they even seem to be quoting lines verbatum and they'll even reference the film to validify their point. When countered with a contrary opinion (mine), they'll accuse it (me) of being close-minded and backward. Which means they believe theirs to be open-minded and forward-thinking, maybe even empowering. "This is how the world should think about this" is implied since my thought is obviously wrong.

Let me take this vast generalization and provide some examples. Here are some lines I've heard both in movies and personal conversations:
- You can't learn from someone else's mistakes. You've got to make your own.
- The only person you are responsible for is yourself.
- Only you can ensure your own happiness.
- When you know what you want, you've got to go for it regardless of the consequences.
- If it makes you happy, don't worry about anything else.
- etc.

I don't want to take the time right now to analyze line by line, but let's say that everyone starts thinking along these lines and changes take place in our society. People feel empowered, in control of their own lives and without regard for consequences. Will we finally arrive at a point where we all live in peace and harmony? Not likely. Those phrases seem so forward-thinking and empowering, but once you melt them down, they are simply selfish and destructive to society.

Yes, it seems simplistic, but if you're looking for a thriving, harmonious, peaceful community, the sermon Jesus gave on the mount still reigns supreme.

Something I learned while watching French movies

I've been addicted to movies since I remember. Many have criticized my habit, but some days it's the only way I can handle interacting with the world. I enjoy a good story, a good romance, a good adventure, action sequence, etc. I like to get in the minds of the protagonist and see if their actions make sense to me.

Recently, I've seen a few French movies that brought to my realization that humans like to rationalize feelings to the point that the poor choices we make seem inevitable and then we are victims of the consequences.

I don't think that's a healthy way to live.

Funnies at work vol. 1

At work today, a union employee presents a way our bakery can branch into the diabetic market...

Union employee - I've got connections across the border in Mexico for this "secret ingredient" that can replace the sugar in bread so it's safe for diabetics.

Labor relations - What's the name of the ingredient?

Union employee - I don't know it in English.

Labor relations - Um, is it FDA approved?

Union employee - What's that?

Labor relations - [baffled silence while mentally reciting "I should nurture ideas, not destroy them"]

Union employee - Just let me know. we can have a truckload up here by tomorrow morning.

Moral: Anything involving truckloads of secret ingredients across borders is highly suspect and should be avoided.

I keep finding dog hair everywhere...

Today I feel driven to write and instead of making it to work on time, I sat myself down to do just that.

I keep finding dog hair on my clothes - a phrase that came to mind as I dressed because I keep finding my Dougie's hairs everywhere and it's been over a week since I saw him last.
The thought arose that that's how sin is. You can't get away with dabbling in sinful acts without finding a few "hairs" left behind even once you've repented and been washed by the blood of the Lamb. Siempre quedan rastros.

I was also thinking of the whole gay thing. Dear Christian people who I believe are riddled with guilt and to get rid of that guilt of they reason that their nature must not be wrong. God must have made them this way. I remember having that thought when my mind was consumed by dark gothic images and even a growing desire to "go to the dark side". I came to the same conclusion after agonizing over the wrongness of what seemed to be my nature. It wasn't something I consciously developed or even seemed to have a choice in. Yet, somehow, so many years later, I feel actually delivered from that. It even seems trivial now. How arrogant of me to trivialize past trials. It demeans the transforming power of the Holy Spirit.

I wonder if homosexual tendencies are the same. I'm not trivializing them - though, I admit it's not my own struggle. I remember a few months ago I overheard someone speaking of a close friend, "And then one day, she fell in love with a woman and moved back east." She was so shocked at the revelation that her friend would do that. She'd never had such tendencies. She'd had several satisfying relationships with men. She'd enjoyed heterosexual sex. And one day, "she fell in love with a woman". Does that make her a lesbian? Does that make her bi-sexual? Was it her nature all along and she never acknowledged it till that One came into her life? Was it her choice?

The issue is deep and honestly it takes me way out of my zone of comfort and understanding. Many Christians tie it up in a neat little bundle of "it's an abomination". I've been in that camp. I'm realizing that doesn't help anyone. It creates divides. I don't think Jesus would call them an abomination. I think Jesus would love them. I think Jesus wants to satisfy us. I think Jesus wants to teach us his truth about love.

I want to learn.

New Determination - Messy Genuineness

"Testimony books, as you know, are complete stories, usually tidied up and made as coherent as possible for the benefit of the reader. They have their place, but they do not meet the need of ordinary struggling Christians to understand that they can be part of the glory of God's work in this world despite the fact that their faith and their feeling are untidy and inconsistent and will probably remain like that until the grave." -Adrian Plass

For a while now, I have wanted to write, be a writer, express myself through the written word, etc. However, nothing I've written, aside from class assignments, can really be classified as a certain kind of genre. A couple of years ago, I began writing a book about my first experience "in love". I've yet to finish it because it's not conclusive. I've yet to pinpoint the resolution of the whole dastardly, heart-breaking experience. It's not "tidy" in the telling and it's too humiliating to put the thorough truth down on paper. The intended honesty reeks of pious bitterness rather than vulnerability. I admit, I was waiting for my feelings to settle on the whole matter to be able to wrap up the whole affair in a tidy little package as a life lesson of use to others.

The same is true of other things I have attempted to write. I begin, but then get bogged down in trying to conform my writings to a form others would find familiar. This never rings true of myself, but like so many other areas of my life, I didn't know I had the choice or option to differ from the norm.

Then, I picked up Adrian Plass's book "Jesus: Safe, Tender, Extreme" and read the quote above which broke away the imaginary shackles to which I clung.

Adrian Plass has been a favorite since I read the line "take your sword and battle through the thicket of the things I have become" in his poem Creed from the album City of Gold.

Today, I have a new determination to be more fearless in my writing, to be genuine no matter how messy. Like Mr. Plass, I have "no interest in writing one of those unremittingly positive treatises that fails to deal with life as it is actually lived."