Laetare Jerusalem!

Laetare Jerusalem: et conventum facite omnes qui diligitis eam: gaudete cum laetitia, qui in tristitia fuistis: ut exsultetis,et satiemini ab uberibus consolationis vestrae. -- Introit, Laetare Sunday

This week was Laetare Sunday, traditionally a day of rejoicing midway through Lent. Personally, I find it to be a good opportunity to look at how well my Lenten practices are going. In the past, I've chosen to sacrifice something like sweets or computer usage; this year, I started out all fired up to go old-school and spend the entire forty days without any meat, dairy, eggs, or added sugar.

Yeah...you can guess how long that lasted. (I'm nomming on a Snickers bar in between sentences.)

Simon had a much better idea, anyway - he suggested I should give up anxiety, since the severe depression and anxiety that I've had for years are seriously interfering with my life and are only getting worse. I ended up dropping the veganism in favor of something similar to that: this Lent, I'm trying to trust. Sometimes it's very, very hard to stop myself and say "Jesus, I trust in You" once something goes wrong or I start panicking, but I have done my ever-loving best to try. While you might expect this to be the part where I begin to joyfully chirp about how much better and easier my life is since attempting to consciously, actively put my trust in the Lord, nothing like that has happened. Instead, everything has suddenly gotten much worse.

The first three weeks of Lent were the worst pit of depression I have experienced since I was a young teen with no close friends, a skewed body image, and an unhealthy romantic relationship. My anxiety and tension suddenly rose again, triggering vision problems, muscle pain, stomach illness, flashbacks, and disturbing nightmares. After going months without a truly disabling panic attack, yesterday I had three within a twelve-hour span. My compulsive coping mechanisms have resurfaced stronger than ever and greater in number, while the intrusive, obsessive thoughts have become near-constant. Needless to say, I feel like a complete nut case. Who said being a Christian makes your life easier?

There are bright points. The increased intensity finally convinced me to try treatment again after a disastrous first effort a year ago - first effort because I am still fighting the perception that my illnesses are shameful and reflect poorly on my self-control and maturity. I've started working with a psychiatrist, and I really hope that the medication I've just started and the therapy sessions I have coming up will help, even if they make it worse to start out with. I think something along those lines is why everything has become worse now. I haven't yet gotten used to holding on to Jesus exclusively, and without my familiar habits of pride and self-loathing to fall back on, my footing is a bit wobbly. I'm also not so sure that Satan doesn't have a hand in this, since he has a history of interfering pretty obviously - at least, to me - with my efforts toward Heaven...though that's another story.

All I can do, really, is keep praying, keep trying to take care of myself, and keep working toward my silent goal of being a healthy woman, capable of being a good professional, but first and foremost a good wife and mother - and above all, a faithful daughter of God. I like my progress so far this Lent - it's a painful start, but it's still a start, and I hope good will come of it. Even in the midst of suffering I can rejoice.

Rejoice, O Jerusalem: and come together all you that love her: rejoice with joy, you that have been in sorrow: that you may exult, and be filled from the breasts of your consolation.


--Veronica--