Waiting for the Light

Storm's End

I have written this post many times in my head in the past month and even started it once or twice. It is difficult to share my deepest vulnerabilities with anyone, much less the whole world. But here I am. Here is my heart.

I pray my journey will help someone else along the way.

Six summers ago I learned I was pregnant with our fourth child. I was 39. I was both surprised and ecstatic. Sixteen weeks later our baby boy Benjamin quietly left us to rest between the shoulders of God. It would be a gross understatement to say that I didn’t handle it well. What followed the loss of my sweet baby can only be described as a storm. A storm whose waves and torrents pulled me under and pinned me to the bottom of all that I knew. I wondered if I would ever see light or breath again. I now know that the cause of that storm was not just emotional pain, but also the steep drop in my hormones from losing a child at my age.  I began to experience panic attacks that caused me to fear for my life. I had not ever experienced anything like that before and hope to never know it again. The physicians that were overseeing me at that time introduced me to a drug that, along with a lot of prayer, brought peace to my tired frame. With the help of my friends and family, wonderful counseling and the cradling arms of my God, I was able to find my way back to the surface where the sunlight kissed my face again.

However,

six years later I am still trying to get free of that drug. Although it was necessary for that time, I am ready to move forward without it. I wish it were as easy to do as it is to type it here on this page. I have tried several times and failed. Three of those six years I have been on the lowest dose only once a day. After much prayer a couple months ago I decided to try again. Slowly. Or at least I thought so. After cutting the dose by one quarter I noticed I had a difficult time forming words, especially when I was under pressure on my job. However, I refused to give up and a week later I cut the pill another quarter. At one half my initial dose I began to experience heart palpitations and the sensation of electricity flowing through my body constantly. I was still experiencing a difficult time speaking and found myself apologizing with clients and friends often. “I’m so sorry,” I would say as I got names wrong or couldn’t remember something, but I couldn’t go on to explain why this was happening. I was embarrassed and felt incompetent, although I knew it wasn’t really me. I continued my schedule of cutting back a quarter of a pill for the next two weeks.

Within four days of finishing what I thought would be my last dose the withdrawals came on with a vengeance. I could not sleep at all, and felt as if I was slipping in and out of reality. I was genuinely afraid. I knew I had to go back up again. This time I went back up to half a pill. I felt defeated and frightened. Chris held me as I wept, whispering sweet prayers of deliverance and comfort over me.

After consulting with my doctor, I realized that I tried to wean off way too fast. He offered that it should take at least six months and that the symptoms I was experiencing were normal for this drug. I felt soothed and comforted by his words. I will continue to move forward and wait for the light. I know with God’s help I will be free of this medication, but I am going to try to give grace to myself and take it more slowly.

You may wonder why I am sharing such a vulnerable thing for all the world to see. The importance of authenticity runs through me as well as my art. If I shun that just to pretend all is well, I am the one who loses.  If you know me in my everyday life and have sensed that I am not myself, you are right. If I have been quiet and antisocial, it is not you, it is me. Better yet, it is this process of getting free. I am asking for grace and I covet your prayers as I journey to find peace and deliverance.

If you are going through something like this, I want to pray with you and hold your hand as we wait for the light. Please feel free to email me at maryannemorgan@mac.com.

Psalm 32:7 ~”You are my hiding place; you will protect me from trouble and surround me with songs of deliverance.”

Deliverance