I had to go read my last post to see where I had left you all with this.
Trusting God: I'm into this. Trusting gifts God has given others: I'm also into this.
Last week (and a few weeks before), I was extremely fractured. Emotionally. I was so scattered, I didn't have the clarity to figure out escape routes in life. I was flailing at work and entering panic mode because it didn't dawn on me to stop, sit with my managers and form a plan. Because I was panicked. And I thought I was flailing at work simply because my emotions were about to create a black hole from which nothing could escape.
Friday - when I wrote that last post - I was doing better than I had in weeks. Saturday was rough. I spent the whole day with the core of my church family learning about the gifts of the Holy Spirit - what they are, how to seek them and how to use them. So you can imagine that, in that context, I was feeling a lot of pressure to use God and not any meds. I wasn't being pressured by anyone but myself. But I felt the pressure, either way. I wanted to trust enough. I didn't want to lean on meds. I felt like I'd be showing a lack of faith in God if I went to my meds. Even after my friend GuitarDad sat down at lunch and said, "Look, I just want to tell you, if I broke my leg? I'd be in the ER asking for pain meds. And I'd take them. OK?" I knew what he was saying. Modern medicine had saved my life and Pokemon Boy's life. And the lives of tons of people in my life. But what to do. What to do.
And every hour, I got closer to freak out mode. Even though I had a wonderful time with my church at the seminar and learned tons and felt spiritually enriched, I was still faltering.
Sunday I woke up exhausted after a night of broken sleep and LOTS of prayer. Every time I woke up, I just started praying. I don't know what was going on. If you've ever had that nervous stomach just before giving a speech or presentation or performing? I had basically been having that almost every two minutes for about a week by this time. After a night of bad sleep, I was primed for who knows what kind of emotional meltdown. I woke up feeling kind of numb. Which is better than the anxious feeling. But every mile closer I got to church, I felt more and more oppressed. More and more panic. More and more feeling like crying.
I got there and set up the food. I was supposed to assist in the nursery. My wonderful friend TallGorgeousLady recognized my meltdown mode. She helped me find someone to sub in the nursery for me. It was heaven to just sit in the sanctuary listening to our guest pastor speak. And to just worship as part of the congregation.
Afterwards, I took Pokemon Boy up for prayer. He has been having some rather interesting spiritual experiences that leave him uncomfortable. If it makes your skin crawl, it ain't God. So I asked him if he'd let me take him up for prayer. I took him up to a group that was praying over some people and waited. Some of our most fervent praying people were there and I wanted their faith on my kid! We started out with about 5 of us around Pokemon Boy. We prayed for spiritual protection. We prayed for total healing of his Tourette's. We prayed for emotional healing and protection due to the divorce. As the prayer continued, I felt more and more hands resting on Pokemon Boy or me. By the time we finished, there was a nice little group surrounding us. Pokemon Boy is very special to a lot of people at my church. I think my little family as a whole is. My church feels very protective about us - especially because of the broken family thing we're dealing with.
I think Pokemon Boy was a little embarrassed but he stood still for most of it and I know he totally believes in prayer and was ok with it over all. I was really excited that he allowed that. I love that he really trusts in God and his people.
So after that, I talked to a friend and told her how I was wrestling with the meds or God thing. She was so awesome and told me her own story and how she takes meds and it doesn't dampen her link with God. I mean, come on - like some drug could block the Creator of All Things? Yah right.
Well, that night, I just couldn't take it any more. I cannot live with that panic at the base of my neck. I can't live with that constant nervous pit in my stomach. I can't take the overwhelming sense of mopiness. I couldn't formulate a thought. I couldn't think straight. I was terrified I would lose my job. I was terrified I couldn't get my tasks at work done. I was terrified I would lose my house. I was terrified of not being able to provide for my kids. I don't like living in fear. That ain't me.
I opened the CVS bag.
I took the meds.
I prayed a lot.
Monday, I was able to focus at work. I repeated the steps above.
Tuesday, I was able to put a few thoughts together that said, hey, sit with your bosses and show them your overloaded plate. That's their job, dude! Then I got one of the big tasks finished which made me feel like, oh yah, I actually have a brain! Lather, rinse, repeat.
Today, I felt the closest to normal I have in a long time. I'm about to go take my meds and get in bed with the bible again. I haven't been calm enough to do that since last week. This is a good thing.
I don't think God wants anyone to live in constant panic or depression. I think God was glad I asked him to handle it. But I think he gave me access to doctors and this medication because he knew I needed it. Just like I'd need a doctor to set my leg if I broke it. Yes, God can heal a broken mind. He can heal a broken leg. I don't pretend to know when and why he works those miracles and why sometimes we go to a doctor. I'm still asking him about that. We'll see what he tells me.
In the mean time, my doctor and her nurse rock. They've both walked this path. Sadly, so has my pharmacist. My church still prays for the protection and healing of my little family. And they support me whether I'm trying to rely on God for healing or I'm asking a doctor to help. And my mom is just so glad that I'm not spiraling down any more. I can see the relief on her face. She was worried. It is very hard to express that concern to your grown daughter. But she did - in her own way. Because she was there bailing me out every single day. Taking the boys, making us dinner, making sure she checked in with me every day.
God rocks. My mom rocks. My church rocks.
Not quite out of the woods yet. But I take comfort in the fact that I'm out of the cess pool.