update

It's been awhile since I've updated this blog. I don't live the most interesting life. I don't even have opinions on a whole lot of things because frankly I'm not interested in a whole lot of things. Maybe that's what happens when you have bipolar disorder. If that's the case I should know it by now. I'm sure that's part of it, but I don't really feel up to explaining why it is the way it is. I don't like to dwell on the fact that I have bipolar disorder. Hell, I've lived with it for 25+ years, it's about time I accepted it and moved on with my life. Easier said than done, my friends. But you won't find me expecting anyone to feel sorry for me. On the contrary, I feel sorry for anyone who has to deal with me on a regular basis.

I've had pink eye for the last couple of days and it looks like it's not letting up for the third. How nasty! Just the words "pink eye", that's disgusting! Makes me think of a pig. Left eye itches somewhat and burns just a little. It's watery and at times seems to throb. That sounds pretty bad, but actually it's not bothering me too much. I have so many problems with my eyes that this doesn't get to me as much as it might someone else. That said, I'm ready for it to subside.

The wife and I both ordered Kindle Fire's Saturday night. I don't know how long she had been seriously considering getting one, but it was definitely a "spur-of-the-moment" thing for me. Which was pretty fun, because I've (we've) never before been in a financial position that we could really afford to drop $200 on a whim. We certainly don't NEED the Kindles, although I've wanted one since they first came out. Actually had preferred a "regular" Kindle, not a Fire, but now that I'm more familiar with their capabilities I am more inclined towards owning the latter. Cool, and yes, I am excited about it.

Have spoken to my daughter, Aubrey, on the phone several times since we got together last December. I'm still kind of in shock that this re-union has come about the way it has. It has restored my faith in God, and I mean that IN A BIG WAY. There's nothing like a an answered prayer to make you realize where your heart has really been all along, why it was there in the first place and how it's not going anywhere...that makes no sense. I know. But here's the deal, and though I wasn't looking to say anything "religious" in this post, I guess I've crossed the line and I'm gonna have to...

I can't count the number of times I've asked myself, "am I really a Christian?" I'm weak. I'm full of doubts. I get lost in the shuffle of what "Christians" are "supposed" to believe and their reasons WHY. I've been discouraged and denied God's existence. I've turned towards other religions & philosophies trying to fill that void.  On the other side of the coin, I've lived many years in which my Christianity was a weak substitute for the real thing. A faith dependent upon feelings at times. At others it was a way to buffer my insecurities against what I perceived to be threats from "the secular world". God had turned into a hobby, and I read the books, listened to the music, bought the t-shirts...even though I was sincere it was evident that what I was living had little to do with the actual gospel, other than a token acknowledgment. Then there were the times when my faith was too dependent upon apologetics and I more or less ignored the role of the Holy Spirit in the conversion and maintenance of the believer's faith. Even when it became obvious that the ONLY real difference between atheists and Christians was the acceptance of the Supernatural, I wanted to provide more solid "proof". Not saying here that there may or may not be such further "proof", but if there is I haven't heard anything about it. And then there was the time when I got so caught up in theology, in the beliefs of Calvin, Luther, Barth, etc., in the doctrines of predestination, election & reprobation, all that stuff and more, that I became so confused as to have no other choice but to walk away from it all.

Through all that...am I a Christian? I have to respond, yes. This has nothing to do with answered prayers, although as I wrote earlier, the answered prayer brought me a real assurance and helped me put my faith into context. I became a Christian in 1977, at Falls Creek Baptist Assembly in Davis, Oklahoma. I don't know why I "discount" that initial conversion experience. It probably has much to do with the fact that there were no "bells and whistles" that evening when I went to the altar. I sometimes second guess WHY I did it. A lot of the kids who "made decisions" at Falls Creek did it because obviously it seemed like the thing to do. Their friends were doing it. "Getting Saved" put you in a clique there. It was a club that grew bit by bit over the course of the week spent at camp. I'm not going to question the sincerity of those people, and I'm surely not going to wonder if their salvation was "real" or not, based on whatever reason they had to profess Christ while there. But it's not the way I would have done it. If I had gone to the front because of peer pressure I would not believe, to this day, that I'd been forgiven and "saved" (that word's kind of been beaten to death, I almost hate to use it).

I never would have done it like that, and though my memory is hazy, I don't think I did. But why did I do it? It wasn't because of a fiery sermon, even though the messages were always good at Falls Creek and they had excellent preachers. I didn't feel a jolt at a particular time during the invitation. I didn't really "feel" anything, to be honest. All I know is that I got up out of the hard wooden  pew I was sitting in, and I walked to the front. It almost felt like floating. I got up there and made my confession, then walked back to my seat, choosing not to "discuss my decision" with the "counsellors" that were standing by.

A lot of the kids who had "conversion experiences" at camp seemed to be high on cloud 9 during the days after. Like they'd turned into saints over night, as intent upon saving souls as Billy Graham on crusade night. I'm not really trying to demean them or their reaction to the week at Falls Creek. After all, it must have been a very powerful experience to have affected even such a peer driven reaction as this. Memories are slippery things and I could very well be wrong, but I don't recall being a part of that sect. If I was, it would have had to be in a limited capacity, because I never was accepted by any "peers" I might have had. I certainly don't remember running with a new crowd.

Well, I knew this would happen. I'm not even close to saying what I really wanted to, but I'm ready to put this computer down and fix some pepper beef for lunch. I won't be getting back to it until who knows when? So, the condensed version is this: I'm a Christian, have been since '77. I believe in the doctrine of eternal security and even more so the law of grace.

Later.

ain't gonna "rise and shine"

I used to have a ritual every morning upon rising in which I would call to mind Psalm 118:24: "This is the day which the Lord hath made, we will rejoice and be glad in it". I was on board with the truth that the Lord had given me another 24 hours. Thankful, too. I'm nothing if not grateful for all the things I have been blessed with (even if I don't seem that way to others). But to "rejoice"? To "be glad in it"? Now those are not easy things to do. At least not for me. 

I want to believe that my inability to truly be happy and joyful at the prospect of another day is a nasty by-product of bipolar disorder. The slight downward swing, in particular. I do take an anti-depressant, and I think it is effective, to the extent, probably, that such medications can be for someone who has suffered with BP for as long as I have...for the last few years I had come to the conclusion that I'd rather deal with the depression that had made it's home in my soul than to mess around with the medication combination that I had been prescribed. It seemed to be working. For almost three decades I chose not to take medicine at all (perhaps not a wise decision, but under the circumstances I felt it was the only one). When I committed, in 2006, to seriously work with medications I did so with the main goal of avoiding a manic episode such as the one that convinced me I HAD to do something. 

I had faith in my doctor. She's no longer in private practice but if she were I would still be seeing her. Her knowledge of psychiatric medications was second to none. She spent a lot of time telling me about options, possible side-effects (of great concern to me) and explaining how they worked in the brain. I was lost most of the time, but I realized she knew what she was doing and I developed trust in her. Unfortunately economic concerns forced her to return to work for the state and by the time my depression really began to "solidify" we were  no longer in touch.

So I just let it be. At first the swing towards the upper end would relieve some of the symptoms, but as time went by I came to realize just how pervasive the depression had become. 

You know, I see all these commercials on tv, "Is it difficult for you to stay motivated? Do you sometimes feel hopeless? Have you lost interest in things that once seemed important to you?", basically some drug company or another trying to market a new drug for depression, and I have to wonder if "depression" has become nothing more than a code word for "I'm in a bad mood a lot of the time" or "I can't deal with *insert petty concern here* and it makes me sad all the time" and blah blah blah. These people wouldn't know depression if it were a narcotic you could shoot straight into their veins. I'm not putting everyone who thinks they are actually clinically depressed in the same box, because obviously a lot of them really are. But with the pervasiveness of all these adverts you'd think that depression was the "Next-Big-Thing".

Depression, or at least I should say "depression as I have known it", is not going to be persuaded by an ad campaign to be treated. It is like a heavy weight, and that sounds like I'm using figurative language, but really I'm not: you can actually physically feel it, like a huge invisible hand pressing you down. The hate that builds up within you centers in your brow and forehead and before long you have a permanent scowl. You get annoyed at the slightest little thing. Anger and bitterness are like air to breathe and cynicism becomes second nature. You know you're making your family miserable, but you also know that it is the DEPRESSION that is doing it, not you. As if that makes any difference. Either way you're leaving a bad impression on the ones you love. Who knows what my depression has instilled within my son as he's grown up trying to deal with it? Knowing that only throws gasoline on the fire of self-loathing. And all this builds up and gets worse over time.

Anyway, that's been my individual experience. I only brought it up to show why I decided it was essential to add an anti-depressant to my medication regiment. The doctor at the behavioral center put me on Welbutrin. I hoped it would work but I wasn't putting any money on it. A month went by and, believe it or not, I sensed a little relief. I don't remember if it was ENOUGH relief to get my hopes up too high but it was a start. The next month I seemed to be a little better still. In the course of a few months I could actually feel the difference. I'm not 100% cured, I don't think anyone is ever completely cured of depression (just as bipolar disorder is not curable). But I'll take it. 

So, "this is the day which the Lord hath made, we will rejoice and be glad it it"...I guess I do have a lot to be thankful for. Much to rejoice over, whether it "feels" like rejoicing or not. I can be "glad in it", because I know what it is to live the opposite. I do believe I'm alive and well only because God has been merciful to create for me another day. If it's difficult to recite Psalm 118:24 as if it were a mantra every morning it's only because I'm grumpy getting out of bed. Lots of folks like that, it doesn't nullify the sentiment of the verse. 

Better the Psalm than "Rise and Shine!!!" Oh how I hate that phrase.