Because I’m on vacation this week, I’ve decided to publish posts from the two-week test pilot of Beyond Blue back in October of 2006, two months before its initial launch in December 2006. We’ve come a long way!
I’m curious to know how God determines who gets the good brains, which contain a surplus of norepinephrine, dopamine, serotonin, and the other neurotransmitters responsible for feelings of well-being. Does the Creator keep a master list like Santa, doling out lots of serotonin only to nice kids? In my angrier moments, I wonder what crime I committed in a former life to deserve such a chemically whacked-out brain, one that I’m fairly certain I have passed on to my son David. ??

Yesterday my five-year-old boy was dressed up as a monkey for a kids’ Halloween ballet special at Maryland Hall in Annapolis. I wasn’t at all surprised when he leaped into my lap as all the other kids paraded across the stage for the costume contest. I was merely hoping to exit the theater and its parking lot without a major meltdown. ??
But when monkey boy hopped into the car after the event, his left foot (or claw) got caught in the seat belt, igniting 20 minutes of wailing, thrashing, head slamming, and total desperation as if he were drowning in the Indian Sea. Next to our car, a new acquaintance who I was trying to recruit for more play dates, strapped her two angels into her minivan and looked at me as if I should call 911. ?
“Is he okay?” she asked. ??
“Oh, yeah, he’s fine,” I responded coyly, acting as if this sort of explosion happens all the time. Because it does. ??
Like mine, David’s anxiety has been there from before he was yanked out of my uterus in an emergency C-section. First it was colic and gas. I couldn’t calm the wee baby down. Then chronic ear and sinus infections had him crying out in pain every two hours through the night. Then we got to the night terrors, which were a true joy. Presently we vacillate between those and leg cramps at night. During the day, his regular half-hour made-for-television tantrums are set off by a drop of water spilled on his sleeve or a match-box car that’s a hair out of place. ?
My childhood anxiety exhibited itself in religious scrupulosity: if I didn’t say three rosaries a day and go to daily Mass I was going to burn in hell. My nighttime prayers took longer than a week’s homework. By second grade I had finished the Bible and ?had written my first book, “How to Get to Heaven,” the standard manual for all Catholics suffering from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. ??
I’ll be okay. I’ve learned how to manage with a less-than-perfect brain. It’s the little monkey I’m worked about.
To read more Beyond Blue, go to www.beliefnet.com/beyondblue, and to get to Group Beyond Blue, a support group at Beliefnet Community, click here.