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A Day in the Life of a Type D Personality

Should I take it?

Yes. Okay.  It is the right thing to do.

Wait.  It will alter my personality.  Oh, that’s right, I am withering away in depressive thoughts, and I worry it will change up my charm.

Flip flop.  Flip flop.

The pills that dull the aching, dull everything.

Maybe I will go all natural instead.

Pull out the oils.  Eat more leafy greens.  Run more.  Sleep more.

Yes, this is a good idea.

Flip flop.  Flip flop.

Two days without and the world is already a better place.  The sun is bright again. The clouds diminish.  All is well with me in the world.

“Are you okay?”  A friend questions beyond the surface, to my underlying condition.

Tears.

I hate interventions of the intimate kind.

I assure her I am in full control of my instability.

Oh, how I love and hate my Type A friends.

Oh, how I am certain I drive them nuts with my impulsive-emotional quirks.

In defense, I point them to those in the Bible who were a bit extreme. One in particular is my scapegoat:

Elijah.

The man had some major ups and downs.

Okay, I am not fighting wicked Jezebel and Baal, or calling down fire from Heaven, so maybe it is reasonable for his roller coaster emotional extremism.

Still, I believe I relate to him in one way or another.  He was human after all.

Elijah was a man with a nature like ours, and he prayed fervently that it might not rain, and for three years and six months it did not rain on the earth.

I’ve been on a two-year cycle in this depressive desert.  I need a reprieve.  I need the sun to shine in my heart again.

God, please pour out your joy in the midst of suffering.  Your peace in the midst of turmoil.  Your strength in the midst of weakness.  Your happiness in the midst of this heavy heartache.  

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