It is what it is

It was only two words, and yet hearing them had a profound emotional effect on me.  This, in spite of the fact that it really wasn't anything earth shattering or new.

"Permanently Disabled."

Those were the words of my psychiatrist in communication with the insurance company managing my disability claim.  We will see how the insurance company responds.  Hearing those words brought mixed emotions to me.

In my communications with the insurance company they have always taken the role of the eternal optimist.  "Are you improving?"  "Are you better now?"  "We want to get you back to work."  Well, of course they do.  The sooner I am able to return to work, the sooner they can quit paying the disability benefits.  And for the record, I would enjoy being actively engaged once again in full time work and making an adequate wage and benefits to support our family.  There is honor in that.  Not to say that it is dishonorable to be on disability.  But being on disability does not produce in me a feeling of well being and high self esteem.

Part of my mixed reaction to those words "permanently disabled" is related to the nature of being bipolar.  When I'm feeling depressed it is difficult to accomplish anything.  When I'm experiencing life from the hypo-manic side of the cycle I can envision no limitations.  At those times, not only do I feel that I can work again, but my sense is that I could do most any job if I just was given the chance.  I want to say to the insurance company "Yes, I can return to work.  Give me a job.  Insurance claims adjuster.  Sure, I can do that."  Or I envision returning to ministry.  No problem.  I could be bishop.  Or Presiding Bishop, for that matter.  And returning to parish ministry would be as easy as riding a bike again.  Been there, done that, lets go.

That's when I hear a resounding "Whoa, cowboy!" from my medical team.  Ir is disconcerting to have my doctors rein me in when I'm ready to run, and then also, to have them prod me on, when I'd like to just lay down.  Sometimes there just doesn't seem to be a happy medium.

Which is the nature of being bipolar.  And that is not going to change.

In general, people who feel depressed will come to a point where the depression has run its course, and they return to feeling normal.  Being bipolar means that one will continually cycle, feeling depressed at some points, and supercharged at other times.  You don't just 'get well'.

Which brings me back to the label "permanently disabled".  On the one hand, it would bring a lot of peace and easing of anxiety if people, like the insurance company, could just settle in to the reality that being bipolar is a permanent, not temporary, condition.  On the other hand, accepting those words "permanently disabled" is to surrender hope.  Its accepting that the question is not whether one will be "well", but how well one is "managing" with the disease.

One final thought.  Part of my struggle with all this is that I simply do not know.  I do not know what remains possible and advisable for me, and I do not know what the limitations really are.  There are significant risks for me if I were to try and re-enter parish ministry.  There are significant risks for a congregation or other employer who would give me the opportunity.  There is a need to protect me from the congregation, and protect the congregation from me.  Yes, I could try to return to parish ministry, but who pays the cost if I crash and burn.  That finally, is the question that will not go away.