A Seize is as good as a Rest

A week ago around 8 PM I walked into the kitchen and fell face first on the floor. And seized. And bit a huge chunk out of my tongue.

When I regained consciousness, I was sick to my stomach, spewing blood, and asking in a state of confusion what is going on? The house was full of strangers all talking at me. I couldn’t process.

Long story short, the EMTs got me stabilized, in the ambulance and to the hospital. I am deeply grateful to every one of them. These are people who deserve awards and big salaries.

The hospital staff were equally caring. I was really discombobulated and they were all patient, kind, and supportive.

The reason for my seizure was bad medical care—several doctors put me in harms way because they’re afraid of benzodiazepines. Rather than work with me via a rational, scientific method they just pulled the rug out. Withdrawal is hell—but I resigned myself to the fact that I would have to endure it. By the time of the seizure I was nine days in, and I thought there was hope for an easing of symptoms. Instead I’m sitting here exhausted, my muscles are weak, my tongue is cut open, my brain is foggy…

Since ordination most of my work has been derailed by other responsibilities. First it was two years of taking care of our beagles who had different medical conditions. Then our house was under a black mold mess, then COVID…then finally I got into doing weddings and working as a dean in my seminary.

Now I work in a seminary I cofounded with colleagues but I’m in a very “business” position. It’s not spiritual. It’s anxiety feeding, boring, frustrating.

The seizure has helped me reaffirm that my place is not in finance and HR and legal and administration. I need to minister. I need to serve people. I need to help them cultivate their inner self.

I don’t know what that will look like exactly, but I hope to make this blog a living thing once again. I hope you’ll make use of good old fashioned RSS and journey with me.