Shackled. . .

Perhaps, for good reason.  One of the experiences of being in treatment for bipolar disorder, especially when one is open about it, is that of being shackled.  To be restrained, limited, like a horse that is shackled.  A horse that is shackled can move somewhat, but is prevented from running free. 

These restraints can be more perception than reality.  One may feel shackled, when in fact other things are more in play.  In my own situation I have been writing for some time about vocational issues.  Are my options limited by others because of my diagnosis?  Well, maybe.  And perhaps for good reasons.

If  I'm honest I have to admit that nearly a decade ago, during the most manic phase I had experienced, my quest, my crusade, my great agenda did in fact cost the Church nearly 20 million dollars.  We built a senior housing project in Sandpoint for 15 million, bought land in Boise for 3 million, and a hundred thousand or so was spent in the effort to develop the Boise project.  I guess that's only a little over 18 million, but who's counting?

On a personal level, my last manic episode resulted in spending over fifty thousand on woodworking equipment.  It has not yet paid for itself.

OK, so I understand that some people might be a little bit cautious about letting me 'run free'.  It's entirely reasonable.

But, I tell myself, I'm being treated now and my moods have stabilized.  There is truth to this.  One of the things that most amazes me is the difference that knowledge makes.  The truth is that I'm a far better risk in ministry now that I'm sober and in treatment for bipolar disorder than when I was self medicating with alcohol, and didn't even know that I was bipolar.  I may be better suited for many of life's challenges and my vocation now, than I ever have been before.  But now, people, including myself, know that I'm bipolar.  And with that knowledge comes some caution.

And then there is this pesky business about 18 million dollars. 

I can fully understand that people such as my wife and those powers that be in the Church might have good reason to be cautious.  That 18 million dollars could have become 60 million had the Boise project proceeded.  Everybody has their limits.

But another dimension is that the shackles I feel are largely self imposed.  It is entirely possible that other factors are in play regarding my current vocational situation.  I'd like to remain in Sandpoint.  I'm sixty one  years old.  Those two situations alone place significant limitations on what possibilities exist for me.  And neither has to do with my being bipolar.  I may feel its my diagnosis that limits my possibilities when it isn't.  Also, I may be more cautious about what is appropriate for me than others are.

There is some grace in shackles.  Horses used to be shackled to keep them grazing near the campsite, and to prevent them from wandering off into the countryside.  Among other things this protected them from the predators out there.  The bottom line is that my pension funds will fair better if someone controls my access to them and has the courage to say "No."  Certain limitations are good for my own wellbeing.  There is much to be said for gracefully accepting appropriate limitations that are reasonable, given my diagnosis. 

That's not to say it isn't hard to accept.  Throughout our married life I've been in charge of our family's finances.  For me now, to have to say that Karla needs to have the final say in major financial commitments is difficult.  But as difficult as that is, it is a reasonable precaution.  Spending another fifty thousand dollars will not make my business endeavors more profitable. 

In my current call as pastor there are natural limitations in place.  Ironically, there is one woman who really wants to see us develop a senior housing project there.  No sewer system makes it impossible.  Well, that and the fact that we are a very small congregation and couldn't float the money to get such a project off the ground.  So, as tempting as it may be to my manic side, it's not going anywhere.

I'm playing with a new concept.  To simply be content.  There are limitations, yes, but they are not all bad.  I get to preach and teach and care for my congregation.  I have the secondary vocation as a cabinet maker which works for now. 

Contentedness.  Such a concept.  Its a bit foreign to me.  I've always been one who envisioned new possibilities and shuddered at the thought of simply maintaining the status quo.  Live as life gives you opportunity.  Contented.  Grateful.