I am all mixed up spiritually. On the one hand, I believe Jesus is Lord. On the other hand, I believe in Allah, whom the Muslims claim has no son, and that Jesus was just one of the prophets. I am so attracted to Islam, but I can’t unbelieve in Jesus as Lord. I just can’t. My experiences with Him have gone too deep. I practiced Islam today to the best of my ability, performed ghusl, made wudu, prayed the Dhuhr prayer, said dhikr. But something is missing, and that something is Jesus. Yet it’s a quandary because I can’t find Jesus anymore; his presence eludes me. I feel like Jesus and I are in mutually repelling bubbles, and can’t reach each other. On the other hand, I feel quite close to Allah. I like the Islamic way of life. I just don’t know how to reconcile it with my belief in Jesus. If only I could feel the presence of Jesus again, then this would be a non-issue.

I am wearing hijab anyway. I have always been a proponent of modesty. Mary, the mother of God, is always shown with her head covered. She is the perfect example of Christian modesty. Some women today do cover their hair, Jews and Christians alike.  Style-wise I prefer the Muslim hijab. It’s the most elegant of all the head coverings I’ve seen. Time to steep another lavender-mint tisane. I’m still doing my intensive lavender therapy, I’ve got my Calm Aid, I’ve got my lavender oil, and I’ve got the tisane. I’ve even got lavender deodorant. My husband will be home in exactly an hour. I can do this! I feel like throwing up. I just heard the gate, but of course it wouldn’t be my husband. No, it’s my neighbor. I hate it when that happens. I hear the gate, and get my hopes up, and then the crunch, crunch, crunch of my neighbor’s feet on the gravel path. I’m going to be ok, I just have to be patient. The increased Zoloft isn’t doing much to quell my anxiety. He doubled the dose of the Zoloft to mitigate my panic attacks, but it hasn’t done a darn thing. The only thing that helps is the Ativan and Calm Aid. Mostly the Ativan. I’m doing good so far, I haven’t taken a third yet today. How I wish my husband would come home now! But he won’t be home for another hour. Dear Jesus, I don’t know where You are, but I need You now! Patience is one of the highest virtues, and that’s what I’m asking God for today. Oh Allah, grant me patience! Dear Jesus! Grant me patience and peace. Because that’s really what it boils down to- when you feel no peace, you feel no patience.

All I can feel is anxiety, and it’s hard to feel patience when you’re terrified out of your mind. Which, at the moment, I am. It’s a different sort of anxiety these days, it’s accompanied by the bad voice, of course, as well as frightening images in my mind that I am certain come from the same source as the bad voice. I can’t wait until tomorrow, when I will start on the Zyprexa at the full dose.  There will be seven days where I only have 20mg, because I used up 7 extra 5mg pills for the titration. I’m feeling so scared, how I wish my husband were here with me! My psychiatrist says I have to go in person for him to complete my healthcare certification form for IHSS. My package of zinc came in the mail. 50mg of zinc is supposed to reduce prolactin levels. I know my prolactin levels are high because I am on risperidone, I have a milky discharge from my breasts, and my periods have stopped. I’m practically lactating here. With no little one to show for it.

Most women would be overjoyed to have no period, but I really want my periods back. I want to have a baby, and no period means no ovulation, just as if I were lactating. Which essentially I am, with my prolactin so high. I am also going to get some vitex (chaste berry), which is also supposed to help reduce prolactin. It’s 4:00, the home stretch. My husband will be home within the hour. This last hour of the wait is always the hardest. I’m starting to feel panicky again, I really don’t want to have to take another Ativan. I shouldn’t have taken two this morning, I was feeling impatient with how quickly it was working. I also don’t want to go to the healing bed. That’s where I usually end up on a day with an episode. I haven’t really had an episode today, but I feel like I’m on the verge of one. I don’t want anymore episodes! They’re so frightening and stressful. I’m ok once my husband comes home, but he won’t be home for another forty-five minutes. He hasn’t checked his phone since lunch time, must be having a busy day today. How I wish it would rain so he would come home early! Well, I wish it would rain for the sake of the rain itself, we need that too. Anyway I keep having waves of anxiety, up and down, back and forth. Which I guess is better than total anxiety all the time. But there is an undercurrent of anxiety that is always with me. That’s what I’m hoping the medication will resolve.