Tardive Dyskinesia (TD) is a condition of involuntary, repetitive movements of the jaw, tongue or other body movements. It frequently is a side effect of the long-term use of antipsychotic drugs used to treat schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. It is almost always permanent. I’ve been told Vitamin E might help a bit. Benzodiazepines have also been used with mixed results on a short-term basis.
Some examples of these types of involuntary movements include:
Grimacing
Tongue movements
Lip smacking
Lip puckering
Pursing of the lips
Excessive eye blinking
(Wikipedia)
I recently was diagnosed as having TD after the use of Zyprexa. My version is my lower jaw moves from side-to-side, unless I concentrate on not doing it. I quickly revert to this involuntary movement when I’m not aware of it. I recently saw a video of myself (with my family) and sure enough there I was, doing the ‘jaw thing.’ It was very obvious. It was also very embarrassing. (I have the ‘lithium jitters’— where my hands always shake, but TD is different.)
There are a couple of things I might mention:
1) I’ve discovered that there is a real social isolation with this TD stuff. To be doing this in public is “not acceptable.” I have had people come up to me wanting to know what’s my problem. Since I can’t control the movement I just say, “It’s my meds— they affect me this way.” In a way it’s like wearing a neon sign saying, “I’m a fruit cake.” Having a mental illness is stigma enough, but the TD just puts a new edge on it.
2) As a natural introvert the isolation has only deepened. (I avoid crowds and most social engagements.) I guess if the truth be told, I’m uncomfortable when others look at me strangely or whisper to each other. My standard ‘paranoia level’ has taken a new twist. I feel I’m compelled to explain. I guess I’m embarrassed when others are embarrassed.
3) I settle myself down in my faith to cope. I know I’m not alone in this– the Lord Jesus is always with me. He holds me tight through all these twists and turns. Since I isolate myself so much, I savor the connection I have with a few friends who have become inured to my condition. Social media helps out— Facebook is a big help, as well as my two blogs.
4) One of the things I try to remember are the issues of selfishness and pride. I keep reminding myself it’s not about me all the time. One of the significant areas mentally ill people deal with is self-absorbed thinking. It seems it comes with the illness.
5) I try to keep a sense of humor everyday. It breaks down the mental pain to tolerable levels. We can take ourselves too seriously sometimes. Be more patient with yourself. I know I have to.
I ask that you remember me in prayer from time-to-time. I’m in ‘uncharted waters’ (it seems) and I sometimes feel all alone with my mental illness and all its tangents. I want good to come out of this. (An instantaneous healing would be o.k. But, I’m not too finicky.) Sorry for so much.
If you can’t pray, don’t feel at all impinged upon.
“My deepest awareness of myself is that I am deeply loved by Jesus Christ and I have done nothing to earn it or deserve it.”
― Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel
This quote rings deep within this heart of mine. It echoes and sings with a confidence that is not logical or reasonable by any stretch of the imagination. But I’m learning that I need to consciously aware of his solid and steadfast love that he has for me. I sometimes forget, and when I finally remember I shake my head, and look around in kind of a stunned silence.
He loves me!
But I’m not the only one who is deeply loved. There are millions of others who are walking in this outrageous love. None are worthy; all have sinned. Those who are following are those who have renounced their feeble efforts at self-righteousness. It simply doesn’t work. (But sometimes it takes a while to work this out.)
I ask myself, “What if I got what I deserve?”
And when I follow this ‘line-of-thought’ I get a gnawing sense of doom– sort of a panicky fear. To get what I really deserve would be the most terrible thing I could ever know. For “I am the chief of sinners.” I believe my past sin would destroy most people.
“But God showed his great love for us by sending Christ to die for us while we were still sinners.”
Romans 5:8
My mental health can be fairly disruptive to my spiritual health. My depression poisons everything. I suppose that at times I can be quite ‘trying’ to those closest to me. It can be frustrating but I have discovered that His grace is more than enough to hold me tight, and protect others as well.
And Jesus accepts me, receives me, loves me even if others can’t or won’t. I may be ‘defective’ to some, outcast by others, but I am never, ever alone. Jesus loves me– not for what I can do or how I function. He loves me unconditionally.
“See how very much our Father loves us, for he calls us his children, and that is what we are! But the people who belong to this world don’t recognize that we are God’s children because they don’t know him”
What’s Your Take on Christians Using Antidepressants?
by Pastor John Piper
I’m going to say that there are times when I think it is appropriate, but I want to go there cautiously and slowly, with warnings.
Depression is a very complex thing.
It’s got many layers. I think we all would agree that there are conditions in which nobody would deny that certain people are depressed in a pathological way because they’re immobile. They’re not even able to function.
And then there’s a continuum of discouragements and wrestlings with having an ‘Eeyore-type’ personality, which may or may not be depressed.
So that means that I want to be so careful not to have a knee-jerk reaction. When you come into my office and describe to me your discouragements, I don’t want my first response to be, “See a doctor and get a prescription.”
I fear that is way too quick today. The number of people on antidepressants as a first course rather than the last course is large.
And the assumption is that you can’t make any progress in counseling unless you get yourself stabilized or something.
So I just want to be very cautious.
As a Christian who believes that Christ is given by the Holy Spirit to deliver us from discouragements and from unbelief and sorrow and to help us live a life of usefulness, what makes me able to allow for antidepressants is the fact that medicine corresponds to physical realities.
And the physical realities are that we get headaches that make us almost unable to think. Migraine headaches can put a man out. And we are pretty much OK if the doctor can help us find some medicine that would not let us get these immobilizing headaches.
And the headaches clearly have a spiritual impact, because they’re making me unable to read my Bible and function in relation to people that I want to love and serve. And so medicine becomes spiritually effective in that way.
In the short run especially, sometimes long term—then I think, in God’s grace and mercy, we should take it as a gift from his hand.
If that physical dimension could be helped by medicine.
So we apply this principle that we all use to depression, and then the fact that the body is included in depression. Whether we should use the terms “chemical imbalances”—I’ve read both sides on that. Some people say that there is no scientific evidence for such a thing and others say that it is a given. Whatever. Everybody knows that there are physical dimensions to depression.
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
Psalm 23:4, ESV
“Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his saints.”
Psalm 116:15, ESV
“Death is like my car. It takes me where I want to go.”
Pastor John Piper
Our generation simply doesn’t know how to die well. There are so many conflicting messages and attitudes which have steered us away from the reality of dying. Much of it is the natural development of unbelief. Our pop culture develops this and gives it momentum. We are trying to convince ourselves that “death is impossible, my life will not end.’ But we’re escaping into a delusion. We are running from what is real.
There is a Latin phrase, Ars moriendi (“The Art of Dying”) which the Church practiced in past generations. In past time, Christians would be buried as close as possible to the Church building. Many would be interred within the very walls of the Church. The understanding was that the dead were part of the congregation. That there was only a thin veil that stood between the living and the dead. The dead didn’t just vanish. They are with us.
My generation is confused. We have forced death to wear a mask. We insist on a significant camouflage to hide the reality of sickness and death. No one really ever talks about it, and so no instructions are given on how to die well. So we don’t, we die poorly–in ICUs and LTCs, completely sedated, separated and unable to process it or help our families process it. There can be no solid connection between the living and the dying. And to be very honest, this is not working.
For many, the fear of dying is intense and paralyzing. Death brings us a terror that twists us; we don’t know how to respond to it. Additionally there seems that there is no one available to direct us. Death is a spooky taboo that no one really explains. The implication is that we are simply to avoid death, ‘it may not come for you’. But that is not what is real.
“Death avoidance” pretends to lift us above the issue, where we can imagine that we will stay separated somehow from its obscenity and ugliness. Funerals are nothing more then an aberration. We have become ‘teflonized’, these things just slide on and off. We just refuse to calculate, or accept what is happening. We have ‘molded’ our fear into a more desirable shape. We simply cannot function in the steady gaze of what is real. We just shut down and refuse to function. We simply pretend.
Its time for the Church to step up and guide us to our next step. Our pastors and elders have got to prepare us to die well. It is a part of being a disciple. It is discipleship, and dying is inclusive. We need somebody to prepare us for the inevitable and the certainty that is approaching us. I need someone that will help me face my own death.
You know what? No one escapes. And the reality of that drives some of us mad, or addicted, or psychotic. The idea of filling a casket up for forever is incomprehensible. We cannot live with this sick idea of dying. It disturbs us on the deepest level possible. It is completely evil.
Psalm 23 has been pure comfort and healing for generations. And it is an excellent starting point for us. Verse 4 develops the idea of traversing death. The writer has incredible insight of passing through death. This verse alone is worth “billions of dollars in gold”. Psalm 23 has made me a very wealthy man. His Word has become my rich treasure.
Broken Believers 