Slogging through

The listserv for the House of Bishops/Deputies had many posts today and last night following the statement from the House of Bishops meeting in New Orleans. I have been slogging through them as well as reading some headlines from newspapers in other cities and countries. No one can agree on exactly what the statement means. Clarity is not in the discussions. That decisions will be made for the Episcopal Church by General Convention 2009 is the only consensus that seems to be forthcoming - and even then some disagree.

Slogging is not something at which I am good. I like to leap tall buildings and stop speeding bullets. Over the years, I have learned that, if I have to slog, the resultant knowledge is generally not worth the effort I have put into it. So, I don't do much slogging now.

And, that's a lie. I am slogging through recovery from the very serious respiratory condition that I have had for some time. I've hit a plateau brought on by stress of moving, renovation of the house, my godson-in-law's death, changing doctors, losing weight (down to 183.5 today - Since May 17th, I've lost 13.8 pounds with Weight Watchers. My buddies have lost much more, but I'm slogging along with this also.

Today I met a new psychiatrist to prescribe medicine for my depression and anxiety - been taking meds for this for some years now - thanks be to God. But, she suggested a change - rather an addition - that makes 12 prescription medications I'm taking now. Bleah. I don't want to admit that I need more help than I have with my present medicine. I don't want to admit that I have bad reactions to just increasing the dosage of my present medicine. I don't want to admit that I can't control this episodic depression myself. I'm like a diabetic in denial. So, I took the blasted pill tonight after I checked it out on the internet. I'm not happy about it. I hear my Mom saying that I could make myself run a temperature if I were bored with school. And, I hear her saying that I have everything a person could want, and she doesn't understand why I'm not happy.

Well, I am happy. I am happier than I've ever been in my life. But, that doesn't have anything to do with my anxiety and depression. The episodic depression hits for short periods - 2 hours, 8 hours, 2 days, and then it's gone. Retail therapy helps; talk therapy helps; group meetings help, but sometimes, I just isolate and sit there staring at the computer screen solitaire game or out the window at all for which I should be thankful - feeling inert - dead to emotion. I can still make my gratitude list; I can still pray even if I feel it goes no further than the ceiling or the walls. I can even laugh or cry or hug or be angry - but the feelings are fleeting and don't go very deep.

Right now, I'm resigned to trying this new medicine. As I said, I don't want to do it. I hate taking medicine. I don't want my body to "fail" me like this. I don't want my mind, my control to "fail" me like this. But, the reality is that I probably need this medicine or some other to lessen the frequency of episodic depression. Bleah.

Okay, now I'm off the pity pot. I like the psychiatrist. I'm not as tired as I expected to be. I'm glad to have a bed, a partner, and two crazy cats (or is that redundant?).

Here are a couple of pictures of how the destruction before the renovation is going. Also discovered a large wet spot in my bedroom where the toilet is apparently leaking - don't know the extent of that damage yet - but we wouldn't have found it if we hadn't done this renovation. And, I got to slog a few blows with the sledge hammer today myself - so that felt great!


Kitchen going, going









Gone