It appears that my fears of my contentment vanishing is turning into a reality. I will try to stave this off by relaxing and taking a break from working on my new book for a while. Time will tell if this will be enough.
My discontentment started last night when I realized that I would have to continue with the book writing instead of becoming an evangelist. It may be hyperreligiosity, but all I can think about is God and all I want to do is to talk about God with people. I have a need and a passion for evangelism. I have thought about several other books to write, but the nonfiction book (not the novel) I’m working on is the best possible book for me to write. And yet, I don’t have any motivation to write it. That is because it has nothing to do with faith. Even if I knew ahead of time it would sell a million plus copies, I still wouldn’t be motivated to write it.
Much in this life seems so meaningless. I get very little enjoyment out of the things most people find enjoyable. Are you doing anything meaningful in your life? I know I am not, at least not to a level I find worthwhile. I suppose I help people here and there with understanding mental illness. Still, I know the most important thing they need to know is the Gospel.
It is as if I walk down the street and see dying people. They are disfigured from spiritual starvation, and I know where they can find the spiritual bread that satisfies. I want to tell them, but they are in a daze. I want to shake them and scream at them. “It’s here; the bread you need is here!” But they keep on walking by, as if I hadn’t said a thing. And they will starve, and I cannot do anything about it.
I remember writing a blog entry very recently entitled “Strike When the Iron is Hot.” The entry was most about how knowing and working within your limitations helps you manage mental illness effectively. Well, all day today I threw my own advice out the window, and the results would have been bad had I not come to my senses early. I’ll explain:
I took my Seroquel last night around midnight, which was probably too late because I was super tired all morning and into the afternoon. I spent much of my time today napping, but when I was awake, I thinking up (scheming might be a better word) career ideas for myself. It all started with me starting to feel better. Once I start feeling better, I immediately think I can take on larger tasks, when in reality I am only better because I had stopped taking on such large tasks. That was the entire point of my earlier blog entry, and it is precisely the reason why I need to work within boundaries. However, since I was feeling good, I thought perhaps I could take on more as I didn’t feel so limited.
The idea I had this morning was to become a professional evangelist. I was going to toss aside any notion of being a mental health writer, and instead was going to focus all my efforts on evangelism. Thinking, studying, and discussion faith issues are my favorite things to do in life, and because I am healthier, I felt that perhaps I had recovered to the point where I could make this my calling. Who knows, perhaps I would be the next Billy Graham.
I discussed this with my mother, and she seemed to think I was being a bit grandiose and wasn’t taking into account my severe disability from this illness; she expressed that I would be under too much stress to stay healthy. She was probably right, but if this is a true calling from God, wouldn’t He keep me healthy? She also said to start small scale.
With those concerns in mind, I decided that I would start a church in my house. At first I would just hold a bible study for seekers and people who know very little about Christianity and want to be exposed to the basic beliefs. I then went to Northwestern bookstore and bought five good introductory bible study books. No one book seemed all that good, so I decided I would write my own bible study book. I was quite excited. I even contacted a student at the University of Minnesota who leads a Christian group on campus to inquire whether he would like to co-host this outreach.
But as the day wore on, I became less enthused by this idea. The practical problem is that no one would come. I would invite the few people I know, but they aren’t interested, and so I would have to start inviting people off the street, but I doubt they would be interested either. It does seem that America is Gospel-hardened. And besides, who has the right to hear the Gospel twice when there are people in this world who haven’t heard it once? Be that as it may, I realized that this idea would likely fail due to my limitations caused by my illness. Even though I’m feeling well, I have to realize I’m too sick to take on these large projects.
Instead, I will get back to writing my new book (I’m actually writing two new books, but I have decided to focus on the nonfiction book that will be the companion to Regular & Decaf instead of the novel I had begun). The book will definitely help people, but I’m not as excited about it because it is not my absolute passion.
This entire day has been a bit of a waste. I slept away much of it, and the rest I squandered pursing pipe dreams. In any case, the books cost me about $50, and right now I’m pretty much broke, so that was a poor choice.
I didn’t take my Seroquel last night. I just didn’t feel like going to sleep, so I opted not to take it (no worries, I just took my Abilify this morning and my thinking is clear). Without the Seroquel, I slept a total of zero hours – I’m still up. I was feeling so content now that my suffering has lifted that I didn’t want to go to bed for fear that this contentment would go away, and once I awoke I would be miserable once again.
I went out for coffee at five this morning, but Starbucks wasn’t open again. It was the second time this week that the opening baristas were late. So, I ended up driving to Caribou Coffee instead. My barista friend was working this morning, and it was nice to see her. As usual, I tried to make up some jokes to tell her, but I was drawing a blank this morning. Of course my friend thinks my jokes are incredibly stupid – usually they are puns involving a coffee theme, but I hope she appreciates the effort.
This past evening has been a time of reflection for me. I thought about the friends I have now (though they may be few, they are wonderful and I appreciate them), as well as all the efforts I have been doing over the past few years, both with the book and with my volunteering. All in all, I think I have really made a positive influence on people’s lives. I’m not trying to be self-congratulatory, but I think sometimes we all need to step back and appreciate our efforts, especially at times when we may doubt our contributions to the world. It was a George Bailey sort of evening, minus any sort of suicidal ideation. I think I will have to watch “It’s a Wonderful Life” again sometime soon. Great movie. Later today I’m getting together to watch the movie “Rudy” with a friend. The last time we got together to watch the movie I fell asleep, and although I promised I would stay awake this time, I’m wondering if I will fall asleep again not having slept last night.
Coming soon: Blog entries that are more thoughtful (I promise).
I don’t know what I want in life right now. I’m not confused, but for the first time in a long time I’m not thinking (or worrying or stressing) about my future. I’m just content living in the moment. And I’m realizing more that God is using me to impact people’s lives in a positive way; it’s a good feeling.
There is not much to write at the moment, and I’m sorry for that. I’m just content. At the moment there is nothing I would rather be doing, nothing I’d rather have in my life that I’m missing, nothing I’d rather avoid that I’m enduring. Total contentment.
It’s a feeling I haven’t had in a long time. My suffering has lifted completely. It’s not a weird or empty feeling – it’s not like when I first went on meds and felt empty because my paranoid delusions were taken away. It’s different than that. It’s more like the taste of water; there is nothing and yet it is refreshing and satisfying. I’m going to enjoy this for as long as I can this evening, and I will get back to writing tomorrow.
I want to announce to my readers that in the past week I have started writing another book. I will keep the subject matter private until publication, but it can be read as a companion book to Regular & Decaf. Because I have been working so much on this new book, last week I sort of fell behind on keeping up with my blog. I will make every effort to keep this from happening. I will add another blog later tonight; please look for it.
I went out for a few drinks tonight at a local restaurant and bar to ease my loneliness. I was able to chat with a few people, so I suppose it served its purpose. When I went out, however, I hadn’t thought about the fact that I’m now on Seroquel, and over the past few hours I have been paying for it big time in terms of feeling extremely nauseated. This experience has shown me that I can no longer drink alcohol. It shouldn’t be too difficult to give up, though when I’m at my loneliest, I do like to go out to the bar; it is the only place I know where strangers will talk to me without judging me. All of the bar regulars are there for their own hidden reasons, and each one has his or her own painful story.
My story is one primarily of loneliness. Ultimately, that is the reason why I end up frequenting such places. Of course there is more to my story than just loneliness, but I can deal with everything else, e.g. the loss of career potential, etc. without the alcohol. Oftentimes when I’m sitting at the bar I try to figure out why everyone else is there. Sometime it may just be “girls’ night out” or whatever, but of the faces I recognize, there is always a story. Most of the customers are men (no surprise there), and usually they are drinking away the pain of failed relationships. One the surface it may appear that they are trying to find women to date and/or take home for the night, but it is easy to see that underneath the façade they are drinking away their lives instead of drinking to start another one.
So when I’m sitting in the bar, I’m also thinking about the importance of relationships in life. I know that I cause myself quite a bit of stress trying to find a successful career for myself, but the career isn’t an end in itself; it is just a means to an end. The end I’m pursuing is a meaningful relationship. It seems pretty universal that meaningful relationships are what bring meaning to one’s life. It may be difficult for everyone to find meaningful relationships, but the difficulty has reached an entirely new extreme for people with mental illness. What are they to do?
The most common approach is just for the mentally ill to form romantic relationships and friendships with other people with mental illness. This may work to some degree, but it does have its limitations. Often in such relationships there is a lack of necessary support because each person is going through tough times and cannot properly be there to support the other person. Another approach would be for the mentally ill to form relationships with normal people, and while I have heard this can happen, my guess is that it is pretty rare that this works out. To those who have found a way to make it work, kudos.
The default position in which many of us find ourselves is to simply forgo romantic relationships altogether and interact almost exclusively with our families. That places an extra strain and burden on the family, and while it is quite far from ideal, it is often absolutely necessary.
Life with mental illness is tough. I can’t deny that. It is so full of loss and disappointment. As I sit here and write I have very few significant relationships, and I have decided to give up on romance entirely. I’m quite okay now that I have given up on trying to find a woman to love, but every now and then the fantasy of a life with a wife becomes salient in my mind. And after the initial jolt of hopefulness, all that is left is disappointment. And just when that occurs, it is usually time for another drink.