by Jennifer Dyer
For the first time in years I have emotions. I suppose I have had them all along, but most of the time I could just brush things off with a “who cares” kind of mentality, thanks to medication.
Having decided the side-effects were worse than the meds, I quite taking a strong medication a few weeks ago. In my blog post on the subject, I mentioned the withdrawal had been horrible, but the dizziness and nausea are mostly gone at this time.
My emotions, however, are ALL over the place. One moment I’m fine, the next I’m acting like an unhinged maniac, trying to bring the rest of the world down into my madness.
Today, I woke up early and did my Bible reading then wrote a book chapter. It seemed like everything was on target for a good day. But by the time church finished, I was a cat treed by a rabid pack of pit bulls.
Color drained from my world. I wanted to fill the house with screams and a giant pity party with all the usual guests: Woe is me, my house is messy. Whine, whine, no matter how hard I try, perfection ALWAYS eludes me. I never feel like a good enough mother to Rachel and her autism. Everything I have ever done since the beginning of my time is ruined. And my most frequent pity party attendee: I’m fat!
I shut myself in the closet and stretched out on my belly, crying out to God. “Help me!” Only an hour before I had prayed to let go of any bitterness and anger. All lightness I’d felt in the sanctuary was replaced by heavy boulders of condemnation–gifts from my party guests.
I curled into a ball and prayed this surge of emotion would go away. Was this further withdrawal from the medication, or was I coming unhinged … again?
I wish I could tell you I snapped back instantly. That I had no crazed desires to escape, and that I never wondered if life would be easier for everyone around me (including myself) if I had given up two years ago when I had cancer. The truth is all those thoughts and more bombarded me like an apocalyptic hail storm.
Instead of being a good pity party hostess, I trudged out of that closet. It felt as though my legs were made of lead. Rachel and I went to the store because she needed grapes, one of the only foods she eats. Then we came home and I stayed outside with the kids for a few hours. I lived and prayed God would save me from myself. And then I took a nap–it’s amazing what sleep can do for disposition…
I still don’t know why I am having these crazed surges of emotion. Maybe I will be like this forever, maybe it’s menopause, maybe it’s the medication issues, or perhaps I am under attack. I don’t know. But I do know this: I am not alone and neither are you.
I believe the Lord was gracious to me and gave me the moments in the sun with my girls and the neighbors’ kids who decided on the spur of the moment to mow my lawn. (How awesome is that?!)
I focused on the world of others long enough that the pity storm subsided. It probably still lurks there under the surface, gathering strength for the next battle, but so will I. I will continue to pray and exercise and study God’s word and live in the sun so that these moments do not defeat me. I pray you will too.
Hugs, my friends. Let us pray for each other!