Something was missing with the bank teller.
As I walked from the front of the line to her window, I noticed a certain bored look and slight reluctance to meet my every banking need. Was she being dismissive as she told me to “please swipe the card?” She must be, and so I came to the obvious conclusion she was dissing me, pure and simple. Is the manager around?
Regaining a bit of objectivity, I decided to lose the complaint and went straight to my car to have a little self conversation.
Self A: “Gee Rick, a little over-reaction here? She wasn’t gushing, but wasn’t exactly impolite either.
Self B: “ Nah–this was bad. These slights weren’t slight.
Self A: “Hold on. She was just doing her job.”
Self B: “She should lose her job. Customers don’t need condescension.”
Back and forth we went until Self A won the day. I know my selves and self, and this was more about me than her. Sure she wasn’t the quintessence of customer service, but my mood and perspective were out of proportion, more intense than it should of been. And since this didn’t seem like an isolated instance of irritability I was thinking something was amiss in my sometimes imbalanced brain chemistry.
But amiss isn’t necessarily askew, so I had to take stock of exactly what I was experiencing. Twice in my life I’ve had full blown Clinical Depression–couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, suicidal thoughts, consistently crying–and this wasn’t that. This was more subtle, a sense my system was off, a sense that I’d crossed the line from semi-normal to out of sorts. This was little “d” depression, but depression nonetheless.
Sensing I’m somehow “off,” I’m faced with a decision–to med or not to med? But just in considering this I’m behind the eight ball already, because my offness makes it hard to think clearly. But it seemed like I had to do something (or not do something), so I decided to have another self-conversation.
Self C: What decision? This is a brain chemistry no-brainer. You have diabetes you take insulin, you have depression you take an anti-depressant. Case closed.
Self D: Not so fast. Maybe when you had the full-on Black Dog medication made sense but you can get through a little irritability. What are you, a wimp?
Self C: Maybe you can tolerate being a jerk but what about those close to you? Playing Mr. Moody is just plain selfish, especially in this day and age when medication can seamlessly stabilize.
Self D: Isn’t that what’s wrong with today’s culture–we throw drugs at every problem? And don’t act like taking drugs is seamless–remember last time’s side effects? Dry mouth? Check. Dizziness? Check. Sexual malfunction? Checked out.
Round and round we/I went, getting nowhere. Finally Self D pulls out the ultimate trump card: Do you think God wants you to resort to some artificial means when He is sufficient for you?
Besides being manipulative, bringing God into the picture both muddles and clarifies: the former because God’s will can’t completely be known, the latter because I wants God’s input, even if I can’t be absolutely sure of the answer.
And Self D does have a point: Doesn’t God want me to face my fears and the challenges of growth without deadening the pain? Suffering as a way to salvation may sound a tad medieval, but suffering can be the wake up call C.S. Lewis discusses. To live out my part in God’s play I need to stay sensitive to the Spirit; how can I listen to the still small voice when a pill makes everything hunky-dory?
“How about the strong voices of grace and love?” counters Self C. “We don’t come to God by our sense of grooviness (or uber-awareness) but by grace, a grace where God ensures and enables our fruitfulness, not how attuned we are. And let’s not forget the Ultimate Trump card’s ultimate trump card: love. If some medication can bring some perspective and centeredness to help someone more easily love God, others, and themselves, let it be.
As it turned out, I decided (and am deciding) to take a small dosage of the medication Lexipro. The polarities my voices tend to emphasize were given perspective by a solid desire just to feel more centered and kind toward the people around me, especially during the Holidays. In general it doesn’t feel like I’ve sold my soul and does feel like I’m doing the right thing, at least for the time being.
Now if I can just find some medication for my multiple personality disorder.
As I walked from the front of the line to her window, I noticed a certain bored look and slight reluctance to meet my every banking need. Was she being dismissive as she told me to “please swipe the card?” She must be, and so I came to the obvious conclusion she was dissing me, pure and simple. Is the manager around?
Regaining a bit of objectivity, I decided to lose the complaint and went straight to my car to have a little self conversation.
Self A: “Gee Rick, a little over-reaction here? She wasn’t gushing, but wasn’t exactly impolite either.
Self B: “ Nah–this was bad. These slights weren’t slight.
Self A: “Hold on. She was just doing her job.”
Self B: “She should lose her job. Customers don’t need condescension.”
Back and forth we went until Self A won the day. I know my selves and self, and this was more about me than her. Sure she wasn’t the quintessence of customer service, but my mood and perspective were out of proportion, more intense than it should of been. And since this didn’t seem like an isolated instance of irritability I was thinking something was amiss in my sometimes imbalanced brain chemistry.
But amiss isn’t necessarily askew, so I had to take stock of exactly what I was experiencing. Twice in my life I’ve had full blown Clinical Depression–couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, suicidal thoughts, consistently crying–and this wasn’t that. This was more subtle, a sense my system was off, a sense that I’d crossed the line from semi-normal to out of sorts. This was little “d” depression, but depression nonetheless.
Sensing I’m somehow “off,” I’m faced with a decision–to med or not to med? But just in considering this I’m behind the eight ball already, because my offness makes it hard to think clearly. But it seemed like I had to do something (or not do something), so I decided to have another self-conversation.
Self C: What decision? This is a brain chemistry no-brainer. You have diabetes you take insulin, you have depression you take an anti-depressant. Case closed.
Self D: Not so fast. Maybe when you had the full-on Black Dog medication made sense but you can get through a little irritability. What are you, a wimp?
Self C: Maybe you can tolerate being a jerk but what about those close to you? Playing Mr. Moody is just plain selfish, especially in this day and age when medication can seamlessly stabilize.
Self D: Isn’t that what’s wrong with today’s culture–we throw drugs at every problem? And don’t act like taking drugs is seamless–remember last time’s side effects? Dry mouth? Check. Dizziness? Check. Sexual malfunction? Checked out.
Round and round we/I went, getting nowhere. Finally Self D pulls out the ultimate trump card: Do you think God wants you to resort to some artificial means when He is sufficient for you?
Besides being manipulative, bringing God into the picture both muddles and clarifies: the former because God’s will can’t completely be known, the latter because I wants God’s input, even if I can’t be absolutely sure of the answer.
And Self D does have a point: Doesn’t God want me to face my fears and the challenges of growth without deadening the pain? Suffering as a way to salvation may sound a tad medieval, but suffering can be the wake up call C.S. Lewis discusses. To live out my part in God’s play I need to stay sensitive to the Spirit; how can I listen to the still small voice when a pill makes everything hunky-dory?
“How about the strong voices of grace and love?” counters Self C. “We don’t come to God by our sense of grooviness (or uber-awareness) but by grace, a grace where God ensures and enables our fruitfulness, not how attuned we are. And let’s not forget the Ultimate Trump card’s ultimate trump card: love. If some medication can bring some perspective and centeredness to help someone more easily love God, others, and themselves, let it be.
As it turned out, I decided (and am deciding) to take a small dosage of the medication Lexipro. The polarities my voices tend to emphasize were given perspective by a solid desire just to feel more centered and kind toward the people around me, especially during the Holidays. In general it doesn’t feel like I’ve sold my soul and does feel like I’m doing the right thing, at least for the time being.
Now if I can just find some medication for my multiple personality disorder.
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