"We boast our light; but if we look not wisely on the sun itself, it smites us into darkness." — John Milton
Last day on 100 mg, I think. I’ve been calling around to psychiatrists in my husband’s insurance network and it’s incredibly out of date despite the “Information updated on 3/22/2009” fine print. Someone’s not doing his or her job. I’m tired and don’t care to call around some more and deal with some nurse sounds pissed off for working in a “looney bin” and won’t give me a referral number.
So I’m left to my own devices for now and will be dropping down to 75 mg tomorrow. I’m just not sure I’ll find a psychiatrist who’s supportive enough to take me on as a patient only to lose me again in the end. Maybe the $400 2-hour intake with that Christian psychiatrist might be worth the money although I really balk at the cost.
In the meantime, I still am not sleeping well and have been sleeping all sorts of wacky hours. My job came back at me with an offer of more work but I declined this time. My job is to remain alert and catch errors and I am FAR from it. I don’t even feel safe driving right now. My comprehension level for anything is total and utter poop.
I’m simply alive and surviving. That’s all that can be asked from day to day, right? I’ll still make a few posts and my apologies in advance if they’re somewhat incoherent.
Joy has always been an issue that I’ve wrestled with. Nehemiah 8:10 says, “Do not sorrow, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.”
I’ve been a born again Christian for more than 10 years and the one thing I can’t seem to get a handle on is joy. I’ve had many people advise me that one of the hallmarks of being a Christian is being joyful. Galatians 5:22 lists the fruit of the Spirit; joy being secondary in the list next to love.
The November/December 2008 issue of Today’s Christian Woman (TCW) published a special section that focused specifically on the topic of joy. TCW editor Ginger Kolbaba interviewed Thelma Wells, a popular Christian speaker and author who struggled with cancer. If anyone would know about the highs and lows of joy, it’d be a woman who was placed on life support with the grim prognosis of impending death.
The entire interview is worth reading but Ginger asks Thelma key questions that elicit winning answers—one of them being that people don’t lose joy but rather, it goes “underground.” I’ve highlighted a few of Thelma’s answers that I really identified with.
TCW: What gets in the way of us truly experiencing joy?
THELMA: Trying to be somebody we’re not. God made us wonderfully in his image. But we look at life from the eyes of our culture: where I should live, what I should drive, where my kids should go to school, what I should have in my house. We compete for status, for recognition, for all these things that mean little or nothing in the end. And when we do that, we become confused about who we serve and why we serve.
If we aren’t careful, we can become so depressed and confused and overwhelmed that our joy goes underground. [emphasis mine]
Here I can identify the source of my lack of joy: discontentment. I’m not discontent with my family or my friends or most of my circumstances, however, I am continuously discontent with myself. I am always trying to be—or wishing to be—someone I’m not. I am never satisfied with the person God made me. I try to be a social chameleon but never quite succeed (in my own mind anyway). Discontentment with myself breeds depression in my life.
Piggybacking on the sad story of Sylvia Plath's son's suicide, Christine Stapleton—a blogger at PsychCentral and columnist for the Palm Beach Post—wrote something interesting that caught my attention addressing whether suicide can run in genes:
Maybe that statistic would help keep me alive too if I have kids.
This is incredibly sad. This shows that suicidal struggles can be passed down in families. Food for thought.
Hughes, who was not married and had no children, hanged himself at his home March 16, Alaska State Troopers said. An evolutionary biologist, he spent more than a decade on the faculty of the University of Alaska Fairbanks. Marmian Grimes, the university’s senior public information officer, said he left about a year ago.
Hughes’ older sister, poet Frieda Hughes, issued a statement through the Times of London, expressing her “profound sorrow” and saying that he “had been battling depression for some time.”
My heart goes out to the Hughes family.
"Success means controlling your own time. Time is the most important
currency, but once you spend it, man, it's gone." — Rod Steiger
I’m laughing as I write this post. My song of the week makes me feel like an old soul in a young body. It was made nearly half a decade before I was even born.
But I must admit, one of my favorite bands of all time is… Bread. Unless you’re a soft rock junkie like me, you likely have never heard of this band or you’ve heard their music but never knew who they were. (I was part of the latter for a long time.)
Despite the fact that Bread was popular soft rock group in the ’70s, I grew up being subjected to “lite music” in my mom’s car in the 80s. Hearing artists like Neil Diamond, Barbra Streisand, and Journey give me flashbacks to my childhood when I would sit in the backseat of our gray Honda Accord below the speakers that aired 106.7 lite fm. Yes, I am an anomaly. While my cousins grew up listening to Slick Rick, Biz Markie, and Doug E. Fresh, I preferred the soft sounds of Frank Sinatra, Foreigner, and Gloria Estefan. I still would take The Carpenters any day over Lisa Lisa and the Cult Jam.
So my song of the week is a throwback to my childhood. Soft rock, for some reason, has always given me a sense of peace and security. (It might have to do with the psychological aspect of me being strapped down by a seat belt while listening to it.) I don’t have any bad memories associated with many of these songs so I’ve chosen my latest obsession for this week: “Look What You’ve Done” by Bread. You can listen to the full song here.