Rev. David Petersen at Cyberstones has another great post on helping the suffering. He calls it helping the anxious, but I think it really applies to how we treat anyone who is sick. Please read and check it out:
Understanding and Helping the Anxious
-DMR
I told my wife a few weeks ago that I thought watching and taking care of children was way harder than being a pastor. She then told me it was the nicest thing I had ever said to her.
I wasn’t actually trying to get points mit my frau. I really think that’s true. Certainly some of the time, maybe even most of the time.
When I was at the height (depth?) of my sickness, it was our children that I couldn’t handle more than anything else. I’ve blogged a few times about my travails with shut-ins, but really it is children that require a lot more emotional energy, I think.
I bring this up because today I watched our kids. All of them, for about 4 hours. I know, that doesn’t sound like much. Some of them were napping for part of the time, and they were all there and full bore for a little more than an hour. The thing is, I’m not certain I have watched all of our kids on my own since I came off of disability. Maybe I have. But I was glad to be able to do it and not have a complete meltdown in the process.
I love our children. That isn’t the issue. The issue is one of responsibility, stimulation, and the ability to process and do on-the-spot problem solving. None of these things really go well with sufferers of depression. So I counted today a great victory. Yes, it was just four hours. Yes, my saintly wife does it for about 20 hours a day every day. I don’t know how she does it. But today, I’ll rejoice in what healing God grants, and prays that it may continue.
Mothers of the world, I salute you.
-DMR
I told my wife a few weeks ago that I thought watching and taking care of children was way harder than being a pastor. She then told me it was the nicest thing I had ever said to her.
I wasn’t actually trying to get points mit my frau. I really think that’s true. Certainly some of the time, maybe even most of the time.
When I was at the height (depth?) of my sickness, it was our children that I couldn’t handle more than anything else. I’ve blogged a few times about my travails with shut-ins, but really it is children that require a lot more emotional energy, I think.
I bring this up because today I watched our kids. All of them, for about 4 hours. I know, that doesn’t sound like much. Some of them were napping for part of the time, and they were all there and full bore for a little more than an hour. The thing is, I’m not certain I have watched all of our kids on my own since I came off of disability. Maybe I have. But I was glad to be able to do it and not have a complete meltdown in the process.
I love our children. That isn’t the issue. The issue is one of responsibility, stimulation, and the ability to process and do on-the-spot problem solving. None of these things really go well with sufferers of depression. So I counted today a great victory. Yes, it was just four hours. Yes, my saintly wife does it for about 20 hours a day every day. I don’t know how she does it. But today, I’ll rejoice in what healing God grants, and prays that it may continue.
Mothers of the world, I salute you.
-DMR
Good Friday is really about life for me. Two years ago Good Friday, I was sitting at home, preparing for my minimal role in services. I had been on disability for about 2 months, and things were going fairly well. I got a phone call from the people that handle disability claims at our insurance company. They were just calling to inform me that since I had shown “some” improvement according to my doctor, that they were taking me off disability.
This began a series of events that I can only describe as surreal. I began a downward spiral that brought be to being suicidal. It was a gift from God that we had the divine service that day, for without that, I don’t know what I would have been doing. My pastor stayed with me as much as possible. I was a zombie, barely conscious, yet fully believing that there was no way I could get out of this, no way I could recover from such a blow. If I didn’t have the time and space I needed to heal, then I would only get worse. What was the point?
But God is merciful.
I lived. Somehow our Lord got me through the Great Three Days.  After Easter I went to stay with some dear friends for a couple weeks to rest and try to recover some level of sanity and normalcy. Things got better. It took a long time, with setbacks along the way and all kinds of other gunk to go through, but things did get better.
So Good Friday for me is about life. It’s about that life God gives to each one of us. It’s about the Life that was given for my life.  It’s about the gift of seeing my children grow up, having friends and family who care deeply for us, and it’s about the ongoing work that our Lord does to keep us in the faith all the days of our lives. No matter how dark the road.
A blessed Good Friday to you.
-DMR
I have posted on the travails of shut-in call a number of times, specifically here, and here. I’m not sure if I’m a bad pastor or what, but I have just never really enjoyed shut-in calls. Really it is more the concept of shut-in calls that bugs me more than the reality of them. I generally like the people whom I visit and commune. I don’t have a problem with them. Really the difficulty lies in the emotional drain which may go along with the visit, as well as the time, etc.
So this morning I was faced with two competing avoidance issues: Continue reading Dread vs. Guilt
I’ve been off clonazepam for a week now, and things seem to be going pretty well. It seemed to help me in the past with stressful situations, excessive noise, and either visual or verbal clutter. After a week, I seem to be able to manage these things fairly well.
One of the signs for me that things were starting to resemble normalcy was Panera. I love Panera. Half of my sermons are written at Panera. But that has not been the case for some time. I just haven’t been able to handle the hustle and bustle one finds there. It’s really kinda driven me crazy.
So Monday I went to Panera, and after being there 45 minutes, I noticed that I wasn’t having the huge desire to run and hide. I know, that sounds a little silly, but it’s true. Sometimes victories may be found in very small things. Being able to drink a cup of coffee in peace, for example.
Hopefully getting of Welbutrin will go s smoothly. But we’ll try one step at a time for now…
-DMR
Read this GREAT POST on Anxiety and Identity. You’ll be glad you did.
-DMR
I hate it when that happens.
I hate it when that happens.
So I have now been on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medication for over two years. My current cocktail (zoloft/sertraline, welbutrin, and clonazapam) has been fairly steady for over a year. Things are going well for the most part, so I am starting to wean myself off of the medications.
The concept is both exciting and terrifying.
When I started taking all of this stuff, I was in a very desperate position. There were few options. It was medication or check myself into a hospital. I’m glad that I made the decision to go on this medication, as it has allowed me to live and regain some semblance of normalcy.
Having said that, there is no doubt that you also lose something by taking anti-depressants and anxiety medication. The lows aren’t nearly as low, but the highs aren’t as high, either. The anxiety medication makes it so that I don’t feel claustrophobic, but it also just makes you a little dulled to the world around you. I feel like I have been tired for two years, and that I don’t even remember what it is like to be fully awake.
I am excited to start the process of going off of them, but I’m also scared. They have served as a safety net for a long time. They are one of the earthly causes to my ongoing healing. I don’t want to go off of them, because I don’t want to go back to where I was. But I don’t want to stay where I am, either.
So there is the dilemma. I can’t stay where I am, but I can’t go forward either.
Well, actually I can. By the mercy of God, I can start this process of going off medication. The absolute worst thing that happens is that I go back it/them for a time. I am baptized. My inheritance is sure, and my future is as certain as Jesus’ death and His words, “for you”.
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Psalm 73:26
-DMR