Wednesday, October 22 2014 @ 03:54 PM EDT
I was on my way home to Orlando. I left Tucson in the morning to catch a flight to Las Vegas where I would board my connecting flight to Orlando. I sat in my middle seat, my insides trembling. I’ve never been a good flyer. For as long as I can remember, flying has always been scary to me. Only when a flight is completely smooth do my nerves calm down—but I’m always waiting for the next bump. The Tucson to Vegas flight was only an hour, but to me it was an hour of terror. I became so panicked that I turned to my wife sitting next to me and said, “I’m not getting on the next plane. I don’t care how much it costs, we’re renting a car and driving home.” My poor wife, seeing the condition I was in, readily agreed.
After getting the car and beginning our drive the tension began to ease. But it was a good hour or two before I started to relax, yet something else began to eat away inside of me. The rental car cost over $500 for the trip. That’s the cost of a four-hour flight home, but my drive would take me four days. I was beginning to kick myself in the rear. I had made a decision that I thought was good, that I thought was good for my mental health. But it was beginning to backfire, and in a huge way. You see, the airline could not give us our luggage, so it went ahead of us to Orlando. Meanwhile, I would not have my medicines for my bipolar disorder. Within just over a day I started going through withdrawal. As we drove out of the hotel in Amarillo, Texas I pulled up at a stop light and suddenly, without any warning, I had the urge to vomit. Instantly, I became light headed. My chest began to hurt. At first I thought I ate something bad at the hotel breakfast. It didn’t occur to me that I might be suffering withdrawal. But sure enough, that’s what it was. For the next four days I sat in the passenger seat while my wife drove us across the country. I felt so terrible I wanted to die. At the same time, without my meds to control mania, my thoughts began swirling around my decision to abandon the flight home. Inside I was raging with anger; the kind of anger I haven’t experienced since I began taking medication over six years ago. I treated my poor wife like dirt. We were racking up hotel bills, food, gas. I knew by the time it was over I’d have around $1,500 of debt I didn’t want and all because I couldn’t control my fear. I had a lot of apologizing to do.
One decision. That’s all it took. What I thought would be a decision that would protect my mental state and my emotions turned into a five day nightmare and my wife, my will, and my wallet suffering for it.
Just one decision.
Have you ever made a decision like that? You know the type. It’s the decision to do something that you think will be good or benefit you in some way and it quickly turns into a disaster. The decision, at first, may seem sound, but it can turn on you in an instant. My situation did just that, and it reminded me of a recent study I did on the life of Lot.