Counting Sheep

I took to the hills for a little R&R and an early morning, mountain climb. After driving over 500 miles and picking up my permit, I figured I’d get to the trailhead and crash. All went as planned till I went to fall asleep.

It was dark enough on the mountain to sleep at 8pm, but even though I was weary my mind simply wouldn’t shut down.

I read for a while and then watched part of a Mad Men episode on my iPod. I read for a while longer, took my blood pressure (too high) and then I listened to music. I had a couple of slices of leftover pizza from dinner and then I read some more. Each of these events was separated with me punching my pillow, closing my eyes, and stretching my legs out in the back of the minivan. I was comfortable enough, but I just could turn off my brain.

I thought about my climb in the morning, obsessing over what time to get up. I kept trying to calculate the time I’d need based on the stories of the climbers I’d met in the parking lot coming down from the summit. I thought about my job and wondering when I’d get my next paycheck and whether or not it would cover the monthly bills. I started thinking about what I could cut in my budget. I had conversations with friends, some with family, some with mortal enemies.

I went to bed at 8 and didn’t fall asleep until midnight. The four hours of sleep I got weren’t enough for a potential 12 hour day on the mountain. I ended up climbing only half as far as I’d planned. I could have gone further, but would have needed a friend.

Woozy and Queasy

My doctor started me on a generic form of Prozac. He let me know that I might not feel the full effects for 4-5 weeks. I can feel some of the side effects after the first pill. I’ve been a bit nauseous all day. I’ve been told this goes away.

I’ve asked a friend, who is a counselor, to start seeing me. Again, it is a good step, and one that my doctor asked me to follow up on.

The doctor also comes from a religious background and has served on several church boards. He was aghast at how I was treated when I was let go from my church, especially perturbed that it was never brought up to the congregation. I hadn’t seen my doctor get angry before, but it was right there behind his eyes.

It felt nice to be listened to, to be understood.

His prescription wasn’t just medication, he suggested that there needs to be some healthy confrontation with the church staff on this matter. I know this to be the case and started wondering why I haven’t pursued the matter before now. I think I expected others to do this for me and have been disappointed when they didn’t. I don’t have much to lose anymore, but they still do. I can understand their hesitation, even if they know what happened was wrong.

This is the first time that I’ve felt a glimpse of hope about letting others off the hook for not protecting me. It is still hard, but it feels healthy.

Speaking of feeling understood, a friends sent me this quote from Pastor David Roper

Unfathomable sorrow lies beneath the rage and retaliation of those who are victims of our prejudice, for the source of all anger is frustration and the greatest frustration is to be dishonored and debased. Every human being is created in the image of God—more like God than any other creature—a holy icon, if you will, worthy of high honor, indeed admiration and awe. To demean that image and deface it is to wound another human being at the deepest level.

Holding my Breath

Restless – waiting for the appointment with my doctor tomorrow.

Hopeful – that the doctor will have some insight to help me deal with the pressure of my emotions.

Scared – that it won’t work for me.

Thankful – for my friends who are understanding towards me and real in return.

Healing 2.0

I guess I’m back to journaling here for a while.

Last week I was hit with some major triggers, some things that tore scabs off old wounds. Relationally I realized how disappointed I am in some people who are close to me. I’d like to move forward but am at a loss on how to do it without addressing the pain with them. Since our current dance card doesn’t allow for this discussion, we sidestep it and pretend that nothing is wrong. It’s an acting role that I’m not going to win any awards for.

I also had a major change to my job. Since being let go of my ministry position I’ve had a steady paycheck. My last one arrived yesterday. My boss is moving me to an hourly position as she can no longer afford to keep me on salary due to our diminished work load. (I should mention that how my boss shared this change with me was great care and compassion.) I’ve been surprised at how strong my reaction to the financial status has been. I’ve made a lot of decisions based on receiving that regular paycheck. I’ve let it be a source of security for me, that in its absence, is frightening. Things I wouldn’t blink about doing last weekend I wouldn’t spend a quarter on this weekend.

I am thankful to have some good friends that have given me helpful feedback as I’ve gone into more detail with them. I’ve been honest with them that I think I need some help, that my emotions are more than I seem to be able to handle at the moment. I see several destructive patterns that I need some help overcoming. One friend gave me a tool to help interpret and categorize my emotions. If it is accurate I’m suffering from depression with associated anxiety, so I’m off to get some help.

I’ve set up an appointment with my doctor, ready to be open with him, and ready to be open to treatment. My fear that has kept me from doing this before now is that any medicine I took for depression might dull my creativity and I’d lose my voice. My friends, several with experience with depression meds, suggest this may not be the case; that I actually might be more focused with my thoughts. That would be a welcome relief.

Anniversaries and Fingerprints

Today's a painful anniversary, my own personal 9-11. And even though the collapse was public many of the details were obscured from view. It may be one of the reasons that I remember this date and no one else around me seems to.

I couldn't picture life today standing amidst the rubble two years back. All I could see was disaster; all I could feel was pain. Yet some 700 plus days later much of the cleanup has occured and there are vast, empty spaces on which to build something new; someone new.

Someone knew. Papa remembers the way he wired me; remembers that details intricately woven into my being. He surprises me with kindness. When I take the time to carefully observe what appears to be happenstance in this day, I often find God's fingerprints all over it. I think He leaves them there on purpose, as indications of His love.

I'm reflective today as I look back; grateful as I look down to find scars instead of open wounds; hopefull as I look up with expectancy into tomorrow.