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denial medicine diagnosis

So I should probably tell you that generally (weirdly?) I do not go to the doctor when sick. I’ve taken kids for ear infections and all that, and certainly that time when my son’s staph infection on his jaw made him resemble Jay Leno (also weirdly. And yes, I remember writing about the importance of getting your kids’ behavioral diagnosis.

But still.)

But being short on time, a bit of a do-it-yourselfer as a credo, wary of antibiotics, and generally not needing the doc to tell me my body will heal itself–I tend to put it off.

Then there was last week’s fog, and the revolting all-inclusive package of symptoms. And my procrastination on getting a flu shot, coupled with the occasional mention of the flu. And my series of dreams about how terrible my throat felt, etc. I kept having to say “no” to events. It turned out in order to work out, I had to be able to breathe. Add the four, carry the one…this was going on three weeks. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.

So today, I meekly succumbed to medical care. I donned the proffered mask when I showed up at the clinic, and dabbed on the hand sanitizer like a force field.

Sure enough. Later this evening, the pharmacist was handing me a “fairly strong” antibiotic and some steroids.

Now, as riveting as this account of my respiratory system is: I have a point here beyond Go to the doctor, Stupid.

Sometimes I’m just as reticent with listening to my soul.

What We Put Off

And yes, even at the risk of infecting others. Parker Palmer reminds me, “A leader is a person who must take special responsibility for what’s going on inside him or her self, inside his or her consciouness, lest the act of leadership create more harm than good.”

See, a cold, I can take. Yes, my body will typically heal. But it set off a secondary infection in my body. And isn’t there a spiritual analogy there? Sometimes it seems like we’re taken down for a few days by something typical; just need to apply the usual remedies.

But at times it touches off deeper issues in us.

Denial of the Weary

This week I’ve nestled into Ruth Barton’s book, Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership, aimed at helping weary leaders–who might just be tired of helping others enjoy God. Barton finds surprising insights from the life of Moses.

And even though they make me squirm and even cry, I like some of her statements and questions she proposes. Stuff like, You’d be surprised at what your soul wants to say to God. 

Barton points out the identity crisis Moses must have encountered, not being completely Hebrew slave or completely Egyptian royalty. She speculates about what may have swum beneath the surface before his character exploded in the murder of an Egyptian slave master. She points out that solitude seems to have purified him and readied him for God’s purposes. Solitude, she states wisely, is where we stop believing our own press.

The Stories We Tell–and What Lies Beneath

Fascinatingly and compassionately, Barton uses the life of former president Bill Clinton to illustrate our need for treatment of what lies beneath.

It is common knowledge that Clinton’s growing-up years were spent in a home with an alcoholic stepfather who was violent, abusive and unfaithful to his mother. By his own admission, Bill’s job as a young boy was to take care of the rest of the family and to act like the “father” in the situation…even so, when asked about his early life Clinto has insisted that he had a good life and normal childhood.

Barton quotes a psychologist’s angle on this:

[Clinton] describes…violence directed at his mother, brother, and himself; his second stepfather’s death; gunshots discharged in his home as a normal life. A true description of clinton’s childhood would be: chaotic and highly abnormal.

Barton observes,

When Clinton, as president…responded to accusations about drug use, draft dodging and marital infidelity with this deeply patterned denial of reality, it was disastrous to his credibility and effectiveness as a leader. He was likable but he was not trustworthy.

Don’t misunderstand this, please, as a political jab. I just realize in a tangible way that–because life does not always permit me to sit in a corner and cry, or stay in bed on the days I feel like it, or express my anger when I feel it–sometimes it becomes more than self-control. Sometimes I overlook the emotion (the symptom) or the underlying cause (the disease) entirely.

Keeping Your Wound Clean

Honesty with God and (in my experience) one other person helps “keep your wound clean,” as author Sharon Garlough Brown writes. (If you struggle with vulnerability as I do, don’t miss The Stories We Don’t Tell: On Choosing Vulnerability). The infection builds. (Trust me. With malaria while we were in Africa? Diagnosis means you don’t die.) Your capacity diminishes, and you lose your appetite. You’re sick of being tired. And sometimes, you’re even Patient Zero.

I’ve collected a few ideas on tending to these soul issues that tend to eat at us (see Memos to Myself: On Keeping Your Heart Soft When Times are Tough, and 6 Lifelines for the Season When It Feels Like God’s Against You).

But maybe first, you just need to make an appointment–with solitude and the Great Physician–and talk about what’s aching.

You might even need to cancel a few things. And let your soul rest.

Ask him, and yourself, questions like this. Try hard to not filter the answers. (Accurate diagnoses are a lot easier with accurate information.)

  • As Ruth Barton asks, what would your soul really like to say to God?
  • Are there negative emotions you’re avoiding? (If you’re curious, Christianity Today’s recent article, “Can Anger at God be Righteous?” was eye-opening for me.)
  • Are there periods in your past–including recently–that feel more comfortable un-dealt with?
  • What symptoms in your life might indicate a battle fought in your spiritual bloodstream? Consider
    • a sense of distance from God
    • exhaustion
    • overwork
    • excessive people-pleasing
    • a tight grip on control
    • perfectionism
    • a sense of hopelessness/persistent sadness
    • irritability; overactive anger
    • a desire to put on appearances (“I’m fine! Blessed!”)
    • perfectionism
    • being highly critical of others; superiority
    • loneliness or intentional isolation
    • anxiety or fear

Whatever it is, take it from a woman who could have been breathing through her nose a long time ago. Denial is your own enemy. Care enough about your relationship with God–and those around you–to get alone, then get a friend, and start to heal.

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