Redemption

"Think about this:  How can you turn your liabilities into assets?  That is the key to success."

Those were the words of a dear friend and bishop.  As best as I can remember them.  I was a young pastor struggling with the demands of parish ministry, overwhelmed by some of the challenges, and concerned about failure.  Those words have stuck with me.  Thank you, Mark.

What they speak of is redemption.

I now think of them in respect to my journey as a bipolar person.  How can one convert those things that appear to be negatives, into positives?  How can one's biggest challenges become one's greatest gifts.

As I have written this blog, especially about some of the manic episodes I've experienced, there are times that it seems as though I'm bragging.  I think, though, that it is not so much about pride as it is about a deep seated desire to experience redemption.  To embrace the good that has been present even as I've experienced the extremes of this mood disorder.

Looking back over my life, one of the ways I have experienced mania is that I become utterly captivated by potential and possibilities and unable to balance that with a healthy dose of reality.  The net result is that I have been willing to tackle things that many people would shy away from simply because I was unable to see any reason why I couldn't do it.

I remember a time early in my life at the conclusion of my senior year in college.  One of my classmates who lived next to us shared a desire of his to have a roll top desk.  I was wondering what I would do following graduation as my wife had been hired for a job that required us to delay my entry into seminary for a while.  My immediate reaction to Kevin's dream of having a roll top desk was to say "I can do that!".  And with that, Olson's Woodworking was begun.

"Unfazed by reality" probably best describes my attitude at that time.  You see, it never occurred to me that someone who had not done any woodworking to speak of since seventh grade shop, and who had no tools whatsoever, who knew nothing about furniture or cabinet design, or construction, or running a business, or anything else about that endeavor -- should have any reservations.  It was full steam ahead.  I convinced Kevin to buy the desk from me, and set about buying tools and learning how to build one.  The next thing I did was to convince an interior decorator in town to order four more desks. I took on remodeling jobs, knowing nothing about construction, and learned to 'fake it till you make it'.  (Did you know that if you have no clue how to build something, you can inquire of a county building department about the building code, and get a good idea, based on the requirements of the code, how to proceed?)  In addition to furniture & cabinetry, I would do electrical, plumbing, build an entire house, a boat, develop a senior housing project, etc., etc,.

To a certain extent, this same attitude accompanied my entry into ministry.  The reality is that throughout my years in school, I excelled at things such as geometry and mathematics,  But I was sorely deficient  in spelling, writing, and, quite frankly, petrified by public speaking.  It simply never occurred to me that my total lack of proficiency in the language arts, not to mention my being a painfully shy introvert, should in any way curtail my desire to enter the ministry.  Looking back with the knowledge that I have today about being bipolar, I recognize the role that mania has had in much of what I've done.

What could be seen as a major liability in life was in fact, one of my greatest assets.  Part of my writing this blog is to find a sense of redemption in the midst of this mood disorder.  When I was first diagnosed with depression, a colleague, Steve, responded by saying "Without depression we would have never had an Ernest Hemingway." He went on to say, "Though were it not for depression, we might have had Hemingway for a while longer."

Living with the extreme mood changes that are part of the bipolar experience has resulted in an unresolved tension.  It is at one and the same time, a sickness of unbridled optimism, creativity, and zeal for life -- and at the same time a sickness unto death.  In the end, one either learns to ride the waves and in them find the meaning and purpose of a redeemed life -- or be overcome by it.

And faith alone makes the difference.