ECT

For the past four weeks, I have been undergoing an intensive treatment for my mental health ailments. The treatment is called electroconvulsive therapy, or ECT, and it will continue into the foreseeable future, though its frequency will taper down from the thrice weekly treatments I've been undergoing to eventually just once per month.

First, I am delighted to report some success of the treatments. My psychotic symptoms, hearing voices and seeing objects and/or beings that are not there, have diminished significantly, becoming hardly noticeable. I can proceed through life without a constant sense that something or someone is following me or about to attack me. This frees up more energy and brain capacity to just live life, for which I am very thankful. Life feels freer and smoother without the consistent, anxious fear that has been hanging over me. I am able to engage more readily in the events around me and take part in the lives of those I love instead of hanging by the wayside, trying just to survive.

However, the treatment has not been a complete success yet. While my psychotic symptoms have lessened to almost nonexistence, my depressive symptoms remain. I feel very much like Eeyore, the "why bother?" sentiment defining most of my waking life. It is true, I no longer struggle so much with the desire to end my life, but neither do I have much motivation to really live or do anything more than just survive. I have a choice in how I respond to these feelings and thoughts. I could struggle against them and try to force myself to see purpose and reason in life, but I realize that would be a losing battle. No sooner would I put forth such effort than failure would frustrate me and bring me to an even lower place. Instead, I trudge forward, assuring myself that it will not always feel this way. I trust and live by faith that life will one day make sense again, even if I can't see it now. I look to God for purpose, to assure me it exists, even if I cannot see it. He is faithful to carry me through each day and each task so that I might move nearer to my sense of meaning.

One disadvantage of this treatment is that it interferes with my memory. Each time the medical team administers a treatment, they use anesthesia to put me to sleep and an electrical impulse through my brain to create controlled seizures. As such, when I wake up, I find I have forgotten recent details of my life or other important facts, like my own phone number. I didn't realize how much I was forgetting until the past couple days. Looking back through my text conversations, I don't recognize many of the messages I sent out. At some point I wrote a schedule of events for the next few weeks, and I am so thankful I did, because when I looked back at it, I didn't remember most of the events on the schedule were going to be taking place. I went back to work today after over three weeks of leave, and I had a hard time locating the files I have used on a weekly or monthly basis for almost two years. Another time, I called a vendor for our Jackson location, and when the customer service representative asked for a good callback number, I ended up spouting off my husband's cell phone number. I didn't realize my mistake until a few minutes after I hung up the phone with the customer service representative. My memory has so many holes in it.

Thankfully, my story doesn't end with these frustrations. Instead, the overwhelming kindness and compassion, besides the aid I have received from those around me, has staggered me. My friends are more than willing to juggle around their responsibilities to help with caring for my son or with driving me to and from my appointments, since I am forbidden from driving during this time. My mother-in-law spent the better part of two weeks caring for me and traveling with me to appointments as well. My mother has arrived from California to assist this week, and my father will take her place next week. Even the people who hadn't offered physical aid have shown great empathy and showered me with encouragement. Our church family offered a lovely card to me and my husband and a card to our son along with some small gifts to help support through this difficult time. The warm welcome I received by all those who saw me at work today also brought me much encouragement. So many hugs and well wishes and so much gratitude for my return overwhelmed me with kindness and appreciation. My boss's welcome back was incredibly appreciative and low-pressure. He emphasized they were just glad to have me back, that I should take it easy and catch up a little at a time. All the guilt I could have felt evaporated at his kindness.

As I march forward, looking at another treatment tomorrow morning, a second day back at work on Thursday, and a final treatment for the week on Friday, I realize that it's not over yet. I could sit here and wallow in my lack of a sense of purpose. I could despair at my aimlessness and lack of engagement with my life and what is going on around me. Yet I realize this is just the beginning, and I must remind myself of that. God is caring for me, providing the support and kindness I need, and reminding me how much care there is for me.

I will cling to the kindness and loving favor I have received from my Lord and my friends and family. I will keep stepping forward as though this is not the end, no matter how strongly I feel it is. I pray that one day, the depression and the memory loss will fade to memories and I will engage with my life the way I was meant to do. I pray I learn from this experience about the faithfulness of God, of the love of family and friends, and about my purpose and passion for life, that I can carry that knowledge and encouragement with me to spread to those around me. This is an essentially uncomfortable time for me, with so many unknowns and frustrated goals and winding paths. Yet I know and trust it can turn out for my good and God's glory, and I will pursue those ends. To God be the glory for all He has done and yet to do!