On vacation?

For many years, I have fed both my cats in my bedroom. But yesterday, I completely dismantled my cats' feeding routine because Choochie was prescribed a special food for her hyperthyroidism. Here's a picture of her chowing down. (She often likes to scoop the food out of her bowl with her paw before she takes a bite.) The big drama about this new food is that if Macho eats Choochie's new food, he'll get sick. So, I have to feed them separately now. I still feed Macho in my bedroom. But I also set up a feeding area for Choochie in my bathroom, which seemed natural because lately she's been following me in there, anyway. So, after I close the door (to keep Macho out), and while she eats, I supervise her, and I use my time trapped in the bathroom for beauty-routine things like eyebrow maintenance, toothbrushing, etc. I also have a Gideon Bible in there with Psalms and Proverbs. Wait. Was that TMI?

After Choochie finishes her meal/snack and I open the door again, the perpetually hungry Macho rushes into the bathroom and checks out her feeding area. It's a good thing I empty her food bowl before he arrives, or we'd all be in trouble. (See that desperate hungry-feline look in his eye?)

So, Choochie's current medical condition requires me to temporarily separate her completely from Macho so that she can get the treatment she needs and so that he can stay away from the food that can harm him. I think Macho is gradually getting used to it. But I think it confused Choochie at first, of course. She had a look on her face that told me, "Hey, I don't know whose idea it was to arrange this new vacation spot in the bathroom, but I think you need a new travel agent."

"Hear my prayer, O Lord, and give ear to my cry; do not be silent at my tears; for I am a stranger with You, a sojourner, as all my fathers were. Remove Your gaze from me, that I may regain strength, before I go away and am no more." (Psalm 39:12-13)

One of my favorite movies is What About Bob? with Richard Dreyfuss and Bill Murray. Many years ago, the first time I was in therapy, a friend introduced me to this movie. Since then, I've seen it dozens of times on VHS (and now on DVD). It's hilarious. It's about a psychiatrist who seems to care more about his reputation than he does about people. Right before he goes on vacation, his brand-new client has his first session with him. Then the client has a mental-health crisis and tracks down the psychiatrist at his vacation spot. So, while the psychiatrist is on vacation, the clingy client totally disrespects the boundaries and latches on to him and his family. Meanwhile, the psychiatrist is planning a TV interview to promote his new book (his son says, "Oh, great. Another vacation that's not a vacation"), and his family truly falls in love with his crazy client. Severely stressed out, the psychiatrist drastically tries to get rid of the client a couple of times but fails. During the course of the movie, the client becomes healthy but the psychiatrist becomes certifiable. Eventually, the client marries the psychiatrist's sister, so the psychiatrist is stuck with having the client in his family forever.

So, most of the events of this profoundly, therapeutically funny movie occur while the characters are on vacation. But during this vacation, their lives are changed completely, and they can never go back to the way things were.

The whole point of going on vacation is to simply get away from real life for a while. You get to unplug from reality and forget about it. Maybe you can see some new sights, try some new things, or eat some new food. But at the end of your vacation, you can plug back into your regular life and proceed with reality as usual. And you're recharged, reenergized, and rested after your vacation.

Sometimes when traumas occur, crises rear their ugly heads, or life just happens, it feels like a really bad vacation -- as if sometime soon, you'll get to drive or fly back home and plug back into your regular life again. Or sometimes it feels like a really bad nightmare -- as if sometime soon, you'll get to wake up and realize that you were just dreaming right before you plug back into your regular life again.

What happens when you wake up one morning, and suddenly you realize your job will never, ever get better, and that it will only get worse until you quit or until they fire you? What happens when you wake up one morning, and suddenly you realize that you're nobody's spouse, you're nobody's kid, you're nobody's best friend, and that if anything were to happen to you, nobody would notice right away? What happens when you wake up one morning, and suddenly you realize that you're 37 years old and most of the stuff that you dreamed would have happened in your life by now haven't happened, and some of them possibly never will?

What happens when your nightmare continues even after you wake up in the morning, and it never stops? What happens when your bad vacation isn't really a vacation, but it's now your new life?

About 14 years ago when I was clinically depressed, I remember thinking in my distress, "I want my life back." But I couldn't ever get it back, not like the way it was.

In the movie What About Bob? the psychiatrist prescribes something special to his client: "Take a vacation from your problems." I disagree with this prescription. (The psychiatrist in the movie turned out to be a bad doctor, anyway.)

I can't take a vacation from my problems. I can't take a vacation from my emotions. I can't take a vacation from my issues. They will follow me everywhere I go until I finish working through them. Sure, I can take a break from them so that I can give my fried brain a short rest, but when the break is over, my problems, emotions, and issues will still be there. I can either tackle them or let them tackle me.

At my most recent psychotherapy session, I talked a heck of a lot about my job. My therapist observed, "So, inside you is a little girl that's desperate, but in order to do your work, you have to become this angry marine. That's exhausting." Yes, indeed. She also observed, "So, you're using anger as a shield." Hmm. Maybe that's why I pay her the big bucks: to notice some important things that I wouldn't be able to notice myself. Clocking out from reality when I clock in to work has got to be extremely unhealthy for me. Fantasizing about mooning the CEO or cussing him out during his bi-annual open-forum company meetings or reaching down his throat to pull out his intestines is probably an unhealthy way to spend 40 hours a week. No wonder God has been showing me that I need to just find a better job.

Sure, God can definitely restore my life. He can definitely return anything to me that's been stolen from me. When life shoves me into a corner without warning and beats the crap out of me, He can definitely surprise life from behind, choke it away from me, and help me to my feet, like a Hero-rescue scene from a movie. God can help me make the best out of my situation, and He can even make it better for me.

Sometimes what seems like a vacation could end up becoming a long-term fixture, if not a permanent one. ("Oh, great. Another vacation that's not a vacation.") Choochie will need to continue her new feeding routine until the vet says to stop, until her thyroid gets better, or possibly even for the rest of her life. Maybe I could just keep my therapy book in the bathroom to read while she chows down. In a similar treatment plan, maybe God knew what He was doing when He told me to have my "quiet times" with Him at night instead of in the morning, because the nighttime is when I'm most vulnerable and most desperate, and He's working through my intimacy issues with Him. If my neighbor is reading this, yes, that is a chick singing "Bohemian Rhapsody" with her guitar at 9 p.m., and she is just trying to obey her God, and she more than likely is blubbering, and I hope you can't hear too much from your fireplace vents. And I hope I'm not being too noisy. 

So, these are the waves that we're riding right now in Tirzah's world: Choochie has her thyroid issues, I have my depression/anger/fear/emotional issues, and Macho is cat-manly-gentlemanly enduring our chick drama. Sorry, this ain't a vacation. This is life.

In my case, I think things are gradually getting better. I think accepting my current job situation is a bit easier now that I realize that I simply work for a bad company. (Reading anonymous online reviews from my current coworkers was quite freeing: I'm not the only one who is having a bad employment experience there.) Now all those times I heard God telling me to get out of there are making a lot of sense. And I think accepting the fact that the only Person who I'll always be able to count on for intimacy, companionship, and acceptance every single time is God... well, that will help make my involuntarily loneliness much easier to bear.

On a side note, you can keep your fame and fortune and reputation. That isn't important to me. What motivates me to do anything is that spot between God's shoulders that has my name on it. I don't want to say or do anything that would keep me away from my spot in His arms. When the world comes crashing in around me, or when the world rushes at me to promote me, I'm going to be looking for my spot between God's shoulders. That's where I belong. That's where I want to be. That's my motivation, whether I'm on vacation or not.

Sorry, but my "vacation" doesn't have a souvenir shop. I just have blog posts. Maybe next season, I can sell T-shirts that say something like, "I SURVIVED ONE OF THE MOST GUT-WRENCHING TRIALS OF MY LIFE, AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS CRUMMY T-SHIRT." Heh!