Limitations

Just tell me that I can't do something  and I will do it just to prove I can.  Somewhere in my DNA this simple principle is writ large.  And then comes a time when it is necessary for the sake of one's own well being to gracefully accept the limitations that are part of one's condition.

Age will do that to you.  I will turn 59 this month and I find myself at a point where my physical abilities simply are not what they once were.  In my woodworking, for example, I now need to ask my son for assistance handling heavy materials that in my younger years I could manage all day long.  With two bad knees I find myself hesitant to do some activities that aggravate them.  For example, last week my daughter and I visited San Francisco and the thought of walking the hills brought about great reservations.  I found myself being quite selective about what direction we took as we wandered through China town looking for a place to eat.  Always on my mind was the fact that if I walked down a hill, I would have to walk back up.  Its not that I can't do it, its that my knees will protest, and I will pay for it for the next few days.  Ugh!

I'm over three years into my recovery from alcoholism.  I have learned to accept the limitations that come with that.  When I first got out of treatment I found it difficult to even go to the grocery store because it seemed that every isle had a display of wine or beer, and every time I encountered one it was like being hit over the head with a 2 by 4.  It was a strange combination of an attraction and revulsion all at the same time.  (Note:  As one who hates shopping, I was tempted to milk this for all it was worth, as in, "Honey, I don't think its a good idea to send me to the grocery store -- you know, all the wine and beer there. . .")  As time has gone on, I am much more comfortable in a variety of settings, but there remain two restrictions that I am committed to live by.  I recognize that I cannot drink alcohol in even the smallest amounts, and secondly, I have determined that I want to avoid at all cost the smell of Scotch in particular.  Limitations.

Having said all of that, dealing with the limitations that come with my diagnosis as a bipolar person is much more difficult.

I still feel the call to be a pastor.  And the truth is that much of the time, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, related to the performance of parish ministry that I cannot do.  I can preach as well, if not better, that I ever have.  I can teach.  I can participate in council meetings.  I can counsel people.  I can plan and organize.  I can deal with difficult people, and manage difficult situations.  Most of the time.

Except when I cannot.  I have to recognize now that my periods of normal functioning are bracketed on both ends of the spectrum with periods of deep depression and manic episodes.  During time of depression taking a shower seems like an accomplishment.  At the end of my ministry, as I was plunging into depression, a simple task such as taking communion to a shut in was beyond the scope of my capabilities.  Dealing with difficult people landed me in the hospital for extended stays twice.

And then there is the other extreme.  During manic phases I am no longer able to lead a congregation in doing "their" ministry, I simply take over.  I mean well.  Its just much more efficient to pursue grand objectives and lofty goals without the restrictions of other people's reservations.  Get out of my way.  "Yes, we can renew the Church by developing a twelve step program for living that is applicable for all Christians, not just those in recovery from addiction.  Let me run with it.  New "12 step congregations" could be formed.  People's lives can be transformed just as they are in AA.  The only requirement for participation in this ministry would be a desire to grow spiritually.

The limitations imposed by being bipolar would be easier to live with if they were constants.  But again, during those periods of balance, I remain quite capable.  There is nothing that I cannot do.  I appear quite healthy.  The difficulty is that self monitoring is difficult in the moment.  By that I mean that it is hard to recognize when I am currently in a manic state.  When others see this, and express their concern, I recoil.  They are over reacting.  They assume every great idea is one more manic compulsion.  Can't they see that this is indeed a great idea????

I think that in the end, this is the restriction related to my condition that is most difficult to deal with.  Over the course of my life I have indeed pursued some "great ideas" and experienced significant successes while doing so.  Now, that creativity, that limitless energy and drive, that ability to envision the possibilities that are out there, and then to pursue them -- all of this is called into question by my being bipolar.  I have to accept the fact that at other times depression will make the simplest of tasks difficult at best.

It is easier to accept the fact that my knees simply cannot tolerate running up and down the hills of San Francisco.   Sandpoint is flat.  Accommodations can made for that.

But when a condition such as being bipolar affects your very perception of reality-- life becomes difficult.  And that is hard to accept.