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28th of January

What To Do With A Snafu


I am experiencing a royal snafu involving my doctor’s office, my pharmacy and my insurance company which has kept me from getting the medication dosage I need for four days.  You see, I diagnosed myself years ago and my physician confirmed.

I have GAD—Generalized Anxiety Disorder.  Medication helps.

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I also have had a couple major depressive episodes and even in between, I’ve experienced some depressive symptoms, usually the atypical kind. I don’t cry. At least not often. I don’t feel suicidal. At least not often. The symptoms that plague me from time-to-time are thoughts and feelings of worthlessness.  Thoughts and feelings that no one would care much if I fell off the earth, never to be seen again (or at least they would get over the loss of me within a few hours).  Thoughts and feelings that I’m crazy and that no one would accept me, let alone love me, if they knew how flawed I really am.  And I know, as a matter of fact, that some who don’t like me might use my admissions against me . . .

“See”, they may sneer to another, “I TOLD you she was CRAZY!”

But why should I focus on what others think of me instead of what God thinks of me?  The opinion of others is an idol God has been demolishing in my life, thankfully.

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So today, I’m trying hard with God’s help to focus on what God thinks of me here in my weakness—this broken brain of mine that’s having a hard time focusing—my thoughts/feelings/behaviors that many don’t know nor understand.  Heck, even I don’t fully understand!

But I’m not crazy.

I’m smart. I’m accomplished. I’ve earned degrees. I’ve received awards. All because God has lavished me with gifts.

But God has also left me with this “thorn” that most don’t know or understand.

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So today, I grit my teeth and say . . .

God is with me—even in this abyss—and he will use even this.

So what happened? Not much really. My life hasn’t changed. All’s going well, really.

But I have this condition where I need medication and if I don’t have the right dosage, I slip.  Symptoms of anxiety and depression revisit me.  Genetic? Probably somewhat. There’s a family history. Environmental? Probably somewhat. I’ve experienced some traumas. Self-induced? Probably somewhat. Aren’t we all sinners who suffer consequences of our own rebel ways?

So this medication I take—it keeps my brain functioning normally so I don’t feel depressed or anxious.  It helps me concentrate so I can complete tasks properly.  It allows me to sleep soundly.  This medication helps me, when I have the right dose.

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But here I am . . .

Four days with not enough meds. Because my doctor’s office and my pharmacy and my insurance company couldn’t agree. And I was left in a lurch.

First two days without enough meds?  No problem.  I even began to think maybe I could decrease my dose.

And then the curtain began to close.

Like a thick, black shroud, I felt it closing, darkness enveloping.  So three entities screwed up what has been working for me for years . . .

I get to suffer with sleeplessness and inability to concentrate and feeling like I’m about to jump out of my skin but I can’t. Feeling like I want to shave off my hair. But I won’t. (Because it’s the curliest hair you’ve ever seen on a white woman and what takes one month for a white woman with straight hair to grow takes ten times longer for a white woman with kinky hair to grow—or at least to look like it has grown).

But who cares about hair when your feel like your whole life is a twisted mess?

If people only knew . . .

I might receive more grace.

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But God knows my every need.

And I’ve learned that God’s grace is sufficient when others’ grace is deficient.

Remember this, soul! Especially today.

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God knows.  God is with you.  God is for you.

So here I am today. All scatter-brained and unable to write—or wash dishes—or keep appointments—or relate well with those I love—and certainly not so well with those I don’t. I’m crabby. I’m trying hard to protect the world—from me. That’s why I isolate. So others can stay happy by not having to deal with me. Even though I know it’s not good for me.  And I still fear more than I should that some will chatter behind my back about how I’m one of “those” with so little faith—or I’ve got some hidden sin.

So . . .

Do I pretend? Or do I reveal?

Well, I suppose this blog post shows my decision. And why did I decide to be real, to reveal, when I risk being judged, being labeled with pejoratives? Because there is ONE out there who needs to hear—who needs to know . . .

You’re not CRAZY.

You’re human.

Just like everyone else.

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And just because some other humans don’t understand you and judge you and reject you does not mean you’re not understandable and accepted and forever loved—just as you are—even as you are right—this—moment, no matter how you judge yourself.

Our great and loving God does not judge as we judge. Our great and loving God knows what we and others don’t know. Our great and loving God gives endless mercy and grace to those who throw themselves down at his feet, knowing they have nothing—knowing they need everything. And just a touch of true love will work wonders. Don’t we know?

So when you’re truly depressed or anxious or manic or all three—please know . . .

There is at least one human on this planet who “gets” you.

And believe me, I’m not the only one. There are many.

But more than me—more than the many . . .

There is one true God who knows all our sufferings of body, mind, and spirit. He’s been here, in flesh.

And he does not believe one is more worthy than another of empathy.

He died for me. And for you. And for all. That we might be set free from all judgment and be healed, eternally.

Our one true God—the three-in-one trinity loves infinitely. He loves like no other because he knows like no other, he understands like no other and he will send those with skin on who can listen and love and hold us when our insides shake and we need to know this—one—thing . . .

God has a purpose and a plan for us, even in our brokenness—especially because of our brokenness. . .

And everything God purposes . . .

Is good.

Very, very, perfectly good.

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Have your way with me, Jesus.

Thy will be done—in me—with me . . .

For your glory and for the good of all, including me.

Amen?

I say AMEN!

And while I wait to get well, I will do what I can. I will keeping reading God’s word, preaching truth to myself, focusing on truth, fighting lies. I will keep praying for grace to get through this day. I will read wise words of others I’ve come to love along my path—like A.W. Tozer and C.S. Lewis and Charles Spurgeon and Tim Keller. I will exercise as usual. I will eat healthy foods as usual. I will talk with friends and seek to serve as usual. I will be with my family who loves me as usual. And I will give thanks, as usual, even for painful days because I believe these are the days that help me most help others.

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Those who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate the not-knowing, not-curing, not-healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, they are the ones who care.

Henri Nouwen

 

 

 

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