“If you don’t start taking your medicine you are never going to get better.” The only problem was…I wasn’t getting better I was getting worse.
After the death of my son, Jimmy, I was diagnosed with sever PTSD and acute depression (believe me when I say I didn’t find it that cute). The doctor prescribed Trazadone, Zoloft and Klonopin. To those around me the medicine appeared to be working. At least it numbed me outwardly to the point I could interact with others.
But inside the tempest of anguish, despair and panic howled through my soul carving out every area of reason and humanity I had left. I peered out of dead eyes at those around me and screams for help that never left my mouth echoed inside. Why couldn’t they see that a great evil was consuming me?
In my insanity I began to wonder; were the pills mind control drugs? So I quit taking my medicine and hid it. Before long my husband noticed and hauled me back to the doctor’s office. He so desperately wanted them to “fix” me.
Now there are a lot of things that we can do for people through the wonder of modern science: keep a heart beating with a pacemaker, repair a “broken” heart with the valve from a pig’s heart, and even transplant a dying person’s healthy heart to extend the life of another. But neither man nor medicine was capable of healing my heart, my mind, my soul.
But where man failed, God succeeded. The doctor’s intention was to restore me to who I was prior to my breakdown, but God decided to make me a brand new creation! No more fear, no more panic or insanity but peace mingled with a consuming passion for my Savior and God. Now my daily dose comes from the Word not the pharmacy.
But grief is a funny thing. We never really stop grieving the loved ones no longer with us. However, now I see sorrow is not a beast to fear but simply a part of living with a love that never dies. My son is still my son as much as ever. He simply isn’t with me. So of course I miss him; at times more than others.
The other night I dreamed I was asleep with Tim (my husband) but that we weren’t at home and I was becoming agitated as a singular thought made a maddening, ever increasing circuit in my brain, “I’ve got to get home and hold my baby.” In my dream I was trying to wake up and tell Tim that we had to get to Jimmy but I was frozen and couldn’t
I awoke and the dream settled into my spirit. The familiar weight began to squeeze my heart. I knew I could not allow the pain to turn into panic or depression. And I remembered…..the secret isn’t to run from the pain, deny it or push it down. It’s to embrace it and cover it with God’s grace.
Remember my affliction and my wanderings
The wormwood and gall!
My soul continually remembers it
And is bowed down within me.
BUT this I call to mind,
And therefore have HOPE:
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases,
His mercies never come to an end;
They are new every morning;
Great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“and therefore, I will hope in Him.”
Praising God through grief. The marvelous journey continues!
What are you grieving today? Dearest allow God to carry that burden with you. I’m not a doctor and am not recommending anyone under the care of a psychiatrist discontinue treatment. Neither am I accusing. I’m simply sharing how the great physician continues to heal me from day to day.
Are you on a healing journey? Share your story.