Really, I should probably admit to myself that the pastor was in a loose-loose situation with me before he even said a word. I can't fault him for doing a sermon on the first part of Philippians 4; even I agree you shouldn't avoid passages because they might make someone upset, today's someone being me.
Then he mentioned the Anxiety Disorders Association of America - who even knew they existed? (Well, I knew that, Pastor.) And here is my problem; I don't like anxiety disorders in the same sermon with the "don't worry" message. And if they must be there, I want a careful differentiation between disorders and the kind of worry that we see as sin. And that differentiation probably couldn't be made to my satisfaction, even if I had written the words and then forgot that I was the one who wrote them. So talking to him after church might not have been a good idea. I don't trust my brain to have heard him right, especially what he said to me when I talked to him. I'm pretty sure that he did okay, over all. That he did a fine job dealing with the issue. Even if it could be improved, he did well enough.
Turning back the clock a couple hours, I had a terrible time waking up, even though I slept in compared to work days and got around 10 hours of sleep. This coupled with... itself, I suppose. And I was really upset. I was really upset when I got to church; I was throw-my-keys-on-the-ground-to-try-to-get-rid-of-my-anger upset when I left church. I wanted to call the psychiatrist on call from my psych dr.'s office. I wanted to say that something needed to be changed right away, that I needed to start getting off of what I suspect is the offending medication.
Speaking of medications, I forgot to take my supper medications with supper today. Note to self: I'd better do that when I get home.
Instead of calling the psychiatrist, I went into a store and had a good time shopping. How can it be that I now spend money and get things to feel better? This could be a problem. Or it could mean that I will actually wear clothes that look good more often instead of my multiple years old, faded and dying clothes that I can't quite convince myself to get rid of. Let's hope for the more positive outcome. Anyway, post-shopping, I felt like I could handle life. With my two new shirts. I could survive Monday in the orange one. Maybe the thought of wearing it would help me wake up. And my psychiatrist doesn't come to the office until Tuesday. Tuesday, I could survive because I got a pretty, black shirt to wear when I go do my observations of yet another Speech Language Pathologist right after work. And surviving through Tuesday's observation is enough for the moment. I'll figure the rest out later. And maybe call the Dr. We'll see how it goes.
And now, back to schoolwork. That part of my life happens to be going pretty well today.