Medicate with Jesus

I like my Doctor. He's a nice man with a good heart, a keen sense of humour, and tries to be helpful. But even those of us who never seem to be more successful than mere trier's of helpfulness, fail so miserably as my Dr. managed to the other day.

Backstory: I've battled with depression for many years, have had psychiatrists, psychologists, med changes etc. I've heard some pretty inane crap coming from our learned friends. For example during a particularly nasty episode of agitated depression my at-the-time psychiatrist told me to go and "have some fun". At the time the most fun I could muster was to spill coffee all over myself because my extremeties were shaking so badly that I couldn't keep the cup steady enough to sup from.

Return to topic: I sat trying not to snivel when my Dr asked how things had been. "Not very good", I replied. "My mind doesn't seem to wander further than a decision whether to slit my throat or re-sculpt my car around the roo-bar of an on-coming truck". The throat slitting had been the focus of an entire day but the re-sculpting was just a joke (I wouldn't wish such an incident upon a truck-driver). My Dr nodded with an appropriately sad smile and then said: You're no stranger to these kind of thoughts and as a friend I can only suggest letting Jesus into your life.

I can, and have accepted all kinds of suggestions when it comes to battling the black dog, and it wasn't the first time Jesus had been suggested as an anti-depressant, but my mood was not conducive to discussions about medication changes as I had only just begun a different medication a month earlier.

I tried to be diplomatic and said that I had, over the years, looked into several different religions but none appealed to me and they all seemed to preach that which they could not practise. He agreed and said that the Bible shouldn't be dismissed because of its connection to 'religion'. When he quoted the Gospels to me something strange happened; blood seemed to fill the inside of my eyeballs and I assumed this was the phenomena of 'seeing red'. The anger I experienced wasn't the wild uncontrollable kind that I expected to occur during the presence of such stereotypical phenomena; and to a large extent I managed to control my vitriol enough not to make a lifelong enemy out of the dear Dr.

Jesus might be a medication that is helpful for many people, but in my perverse mind, the possible side-effects are just as unwanted as those listed on most anti-depressant profiles.