Real or imagined?

There seem to be two great dangers in simoultaneously studying and struggling with mental illness:

1)  Becoming a Hypochondriac.  The more one learns about a particular illness–mental or otherwise– the more one experiences the symptoms.  Particularly when one has already been diagnosed, (or, perhaps more dangerous yet, have diagnosed oneself) with a particular disorder, one can seem to develop symptoms that she might not have had before this diagnosis.

Of course, because one is studying all mental illnesses, she is inevitably aware of the tendency toward hypochondria and if this person is at all introspective, she applies this awareness toward herself.  This can be both good and bad.  Good, because it helps her to carefully examine the root cause of her thoughts, feelings, and relative emotional stability, but bad because it can often lead to the second evil:

2) Ignoring various signs and symptoms of the worsening of her disorder.  After all, this new instability has closely followed a discussion about whether or not her medication has been proven effective, reading a chapter in her text about her disorder, or discussing in class the normal course of the disorder.  Logically, she assures herself that a decrease in her stability is her mind’s way of processing this new information.  After all, despite her best intentions, she often finds solace in her identity as “one who struggles with ________.”  It has become as much a part of her identity as being a student (a temporary identity, but a salient one nonetheless).  Understanding this, she does not wish to fuel the fire of her disordered identity by succumbing to symptoms suggestion.  So she ignores it.

She ignores it while not ignoring it.  And wonders, “Am I making this up?  Surely, I’m making this up.  Stop thinking about it and it will go away.”  But it doesn’t.  Of course, she can’t stop thinking about it because it’s part of her studies and essential to her grade, graduation, and future career.

The problem is, real or imagined symptoms cause problems.  In this particular case, they encase their victim in a fog that won’t lift.  They dull her senses and ability to concentrate, and erase every thought in her brain when she opens her mouth to speak.

Imagined symptoms can cause real consequences.

Year in review

Like most people, the start of a new year often means a time of reflection.   Life seems to have gone its own direction this year.  As I look back on the year, I desperately wish I had taken time to sit back, write, and reflect on what was happening around me.  Most of the time, I was so busy hanging on for dear life that I didn’t dare spare a hand to jot down my thoughts and feelings.  But I need to process at some point.  So…here it goes: A year in review:

This year I:

• started a new, less stressful, better paying job
• reconnected with a friend
• started dating said friend
• Survived Lent
• Became Orthodox
• taught myself 2 computer programs by reading users manuals and forum discussions
• survived Reunion 2009, complete with registration break-down, stolen workers, and 3 days of being an extrovert!
• drove 30 hrs(round trip) to spend 5 days in Orlando…with a 4 yr old and a slightly narcoleptic boyfriend.
• met 1/2 of said boyfriend’s Irish family, successfully understood 90-95% of the conversation .
• Apparently passed the “approval test”:  became engaged the morning after meeting the soon-to-be-fam.
• Survived 2 days in Orlando August heat: Day 1–Magic Kingdom; Day 2–Sea World
• Began planning a wedding
• Moved (1/2 way)
• Bought a house
• Moved (1/2 way) again
• Successfully finished 5 graduate social work courses
• Watched a 4 year old go on her very first airplane ride
• Survived 6 days with 6 adults, 3 kids (ages 7, 5, 4) in a 3 bedroom condo
• Watched said 4 year old sleep all the way through her 2nd airplane ride (as if flying was old-hat!)
• Became a mommy to said 4 year old (as evidenced of her comfortably calling me mommy)

This year I will:

• start full-time grad school
• get married
• continue to seek to find balance between work, school, family, friends, and me…wish me luck

Realization

It’s come to my attention that this is the first year since I got back from working at An Tobar Nua that I have not found some reason to return.    This makes me sad.  I miss that place.  It’s true, a part of my heart will always reside in that land of rain and the most gorgeous sunny days ever.  I have the sudden urge to just up and go.  Use the money I’ve saved for grad school and travel Ireland.  Thankfully, the practical side of me kicks in well before I start looking at plane tickets.

I must be content with my box of Lyons tea, and looking at pictures.  …sigh…

Orthodoxy and Simplicity

Anyone who knows me well or has read through the pages of this blog know that I have long struggled with the desire for a slower, simpler life.  There is something about our culture’s desire to do everything at top speed that seems to grate against my inner most being. Perhaps this dissonance comes from my own need to achieve.   I try to be all things to all people, often at the expense of my own needs and desires.  But one can only run about frantically trying to make everyone happy for so long before the hectic pace of life takes its toll.

In the light of the crazy existence I call my life, I find myself drawn to simplicity.  I find myself, at times, standing alone in a quiet dark room, or turning off the radio as I make a late-night journey home.  For it is only after the distractions of modern life have disappeared that I can truly breathe.  The chaos around me has died away and I am left with all that really matters.

It is in this solitude that I feel completely at home, surrounded by the Father’s loving arms.  It is in this silence that I hear the message of love and unconditional acceptance I work so hard to earn.

I have found this same sense of quiet serenity in the context of liturgical worship.  There is something incredibly soothing in the familiar chants and motions of Orthodox worship, particularly  in Divine Liturgy.  In my darkest hours, I would make a point to go to liturgy or vespers because I knew it was here I would fin rest.  There is something sublimely soothing to walk from my frantic life into a dark room with the subtle scent of incense.  Listening to the slow, melodic chants of Orthodox prayers, I quite literally felt a sigh of relief.  Once again, I would  breathe deep and bask in the serenity of the moment.

I am drawn to Orthodoxy because essentially, it is a very simple faith.  In a day and age where everything around me is constantly changing, Orthodoxy remains constant.  It is a faith that has withstood the test of time, not constantly changing in order to suit the whims of an ever changing culture.  While the problems may have changed over the years, the solution has not.  Christ is there, sitting on the throne of grace, calling out to humanity:

“Come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”

Questions: Orthodoxy Vs Protestantism

Perhaps one of the most salient questions I’ve been asked as loved-ones struggle with my decision to “convert” to Orthodoxy was posed in a rather interesting way.

“I just don’t understand the difference between Orthodoxy and Christianity.”

Honestly, my initial reaction: “that’s funny, because neither do I.”  While it may be a smart-alec response for a very serious issue, I think it hits at a the key answer to the question: Orthodoxy IS Christianity.

While it can look like a completely different religion to  many Protestants who are experiencing it (or other forms of liturgical Christianity) for the first time, Orthodoxy has the same basic theology: Jesus Christ, only begotten son of God, born of a Virgin, crucified, buried and resurrected.

I admit that the faith is much more complex than the abbreviated version seen above.  However, I believe it points out the key answer to the question:

Orthodoxy is Christianity.

I have not departed from the religion of my youth.  I have forsaken none of the Truth I have been taught in my childhood by my parents and numerous others.  If anything, I have found my home: a place where my faith has been fleshed out over the course of 2,000 years.