Since I was born on Groundhog Day (Google it if you don’t know when it is), I found this story about a groundhog so endearing. (And I make sure to turn around on my birthday to see my shadow.)
If you’re over 50 and on antidepressants, look out – you might be doubling your risk for osteoporosis. Fracture risks seem to be unrelated to falls caused by dizziness and low blood pressure. CLPsych’s analysis is also worth a read. (Many thanks to Bob Thompson for the link.)
People has an article on Cate Blanchett talking about marriage:
“Getting married is insanity; I mean, it’s a risk – who knows if you’re going to be together forever? But you both say, ‘’We’re going to take this chance, in the same spirit.’”
I tried to ignore this article, but it was eating at me. I can’t help but think of how a pessimistic quote that is. Marriage is hard work, no doubt, but walking into a marriage just hoping you’ll be “together forever” and looking it as taking a chance is a real dismal view at what should be a lifelong partnership.
Coming from a Biblical perspective, I’m strict about how I view marriage. Sure, marriage is a risk, but I don’t view it as taking a chance and hoping it works out in the end. I see it as confronting the risk with the belief that everything will work out. Satisfaction guaranteed; no money back (haha, especially for men who give their wives credit cards).
Within the first month of my relationship, I laid down the score for my boyfriend:
“Look, I suffer from severe depression. Here’s a list of all my past suicide attempts. I’m not easy to deal with during those times. I think negatively. I have this obsession with suicide and death, which mostly stems from my father’s death. If you can’t handle what I deal with, it’s best that we part ways. You’re choice. I’m just warning you; you’re in for a bumpy ride.”
We had a long-distance relationship and things really did get tough. He’d get annoyed when I wouldn’t get out of bed and even got to the point where I didn’t care if he flew out to visit me or not. I trudged through my last year in college, barely able to finish and focus on my work (one of which was a crazy 50-page or so honors paper). He encouraged me to take antidepressants. I ballooned on Paxil; Lexapro plunged me further into a depressive episode. I had a suicide attempt four weeks before my wedding. I experienced severe mixed-state episodes from November to April 2005 (although we didn’t know I was manic then).
I’ve told my husband in a state of depression, “You’ll leave me; I just know it.” There’s my pessimistic side. He insists that that he’ll never leave; he’s too stubborn to give up. He is quite stubborn to just walk away from our marriage (his parents who have been married for more than 30 years would never let him live it down), but after 10 or 15 years of manic-depressive episodes, how much more can a spouse take? Of the 40 percent of marriages which end in divorce, those which involve a bipolar spouse jumps up to 90 percent. *sigh* Not particularly good news. The hubby is more optimistic: “We’re in the 10 percent.” I’m not fretting over a possible divorce 10 or 20 years from now, but it’s a lurking fear in the back of my mind.
My marriage is not a random chance I’ve taken. I’m in this forever: “for better or for worse, for richer; for poorer, in sickness and in heath, til’ death do us part.”