Haiku Potpourri

Night

Silent cat returns

stalking the old weary soul

Dark melancholy.

Shackled

"Think big.  Dream bigger."

Unless you are bipolar.

Moderation sucks.

Light

A burden lifted

That long ago had gripped me.

Illumination.

Bequest

A father's blessing,

Brother's generosity,

Gift of grace and love.

Fight

Clouds pass, hiding hope,

As a new foe takes the stage.

Yet the sun shines through.

Longing

Silently they sit.

The words so often spoken.

Do you still hear me?

Faith

With the passing years

Questions go unanswered now.

Mystery remains.

Love

An intimate warmth

lying close at my left side.

Life's companion still.

The Knock at the Door

Just don't answer the door.

Yet the knocking continues.  Persistent.  Recognizable.  Ominous.

It's a familiar caller, been  here before.  But its been a while.

The signs are there.  A heaviness--as though my skull was made of lead.  The weight bearing down from above.  Sleep disturbances.  A growing discontent.  Irritability.

Depression, that lifelong companion, has come calling once again.

And you just don't know why.  Take the irritability.  The strawberries are coming on now.  Last night we had strawberry shortcake.  The other night we had it at the kids, with a pound cake that I loved.  Karla in recent years has been making biscuits of sorts for shortcake.  And she did last night.  Not the pound cake.  "Didn't she hear how much I loved the other?  Doesn't she care?  And now I'm not happy.  I ask so little."  I know its a little thing, and the shortcake was fine, and there is no reason to get irritable.  Except I was not happy.  Depression.  That's not Karla's fault.

There truly is no reason to be depressed.  As days went, yesterday was a good enough day.  We'd had a wonderful night at the kids, Friday night.  Tri-tip BBQ.  Our grandson.  On Saturday I got some honey-do projects done.  Nothing major: fix a light, rewire a lamp, hang a blind, and varnish the oars.  Accomplishments.  Something to feel good about, yet I didn't.

Diversion is a good tool.  Dream.  Live in hope.

Jens and Ker are buying a home in Sagle, out of town.  A nice place with a view.  And enough land for a shop, which one day Jens would love.  My mind schemes.  Perhaps I could take out a home equity loan and finance one.  Move the tools out of my garage.  Have space to work.  It makes sense.  In town I can only run a business out of my home.  A detached garage shop isn't allowed.  If I built a shop at Jens' place maybe one day Olson's WoodWorks would be viable again.  Hope.

Nope.  Not enough.  The weight descends as the day goes on.  No reason.  There's never a reason.  Depression just happens.

I check my calendar.  Thursday I see my therapist.  Not scheduled to see my psychiatrist until August.  Might have to change that.

It's been quite a few years since I've had to change meds.  I was hopeful that these would continue working.  Perhaps an adjustment is necessary.  Though with Lamictal there is not generally any adjustment in dose.  Perhaps a change to to Lithium, that old standby.  Or other more contemporary options.  Don't want to think about it, though, and changing meds can be a crap shoot.  Trial and error.  Some work.  Others don't.  The ones I have been on have been working.

What I hope is that the depression I'm feeling is short lived.  Maybe it was just a bad day.  Oh, but it wasn't a bad day at all.

Part of the difficulty is that depression itself is depressing.  Its a vicious cycle.  The thought alone that life's little pleasures may escape me for a while is a downer.  Knowing that in the past cycles of depression have lasted for extended periods of time weighs on one.

Wait.  Do not answer the door.  I feel better this early morning.  Never mind that I woke at 12:30 am and am not sleeping.  Denial has been one way I've fought off depression.  I take humor in some small things.  "Its all just in your head."  Well of course its in my head.  That's the problem.  I also humor myself with the thought that maybe this will help with my weight.  I've noticed my belly becoming more prominent, lately.  Anymore and I might need to name it.  I lose weight when depressed.  Though I don't recommend it as a weight loss program.

Work through it, forcibly if necessary.  I've done that alot.  And with the two jobs I have, losing myself in my work is not hard.  I could use more people contact at church, though.  My little band is a low maintenance group.  A woman lost her husband recently.  She's fine.  He was ready.  Her husband was not part of the church and so no funeral was scheduled.  What might have been a few weeks of intense ministry was greatly reduced.  Ministry is about responding to their needs, though, not mine.  But it would do my soul good if I felt more needed.

Focus on those things that you know give you pleasure.  Jasper is certainly one of them.  "Opa!"  Who can be depressed hearing such a greeting and feeling that embrace?  Well, a depressed person can still feel depressed.  At best such pleasures suspend the mood for a bit.  And then it returns.

I must admit that the one thing that gives me the most hope is simply the knowledge that "this too shall pass."  The merciful side of bipolar disorder is that there are two sides to bipolar disorder.  The depression will not last indefinitely.  And a manic phase is not inevitable.  Though, quite frankly, mania can be preferable, to say the least.  At least one 'feels' good, even if there are pitfalls.

Trust.  Medications and therapy seek to limit the extremes and provide a safety net.  Depression may not be as deep, mania not as out of control.  Even though they continue to be experienced, they likely will not be as intense.  Hope.

And then the dark side.  It doesn't help that prominent people fall prey to such a disease.  Anthony Bourdain, dead.  A reminder of the seriousness of mental health disorders.

And the world doesn't help.  Knowing that Trump is in power is not good for my soul.  Most depressing is that some support his erratic behavior.  I shudder as I remember the statement of a friend that "he voted for Trump because our nation has become so divided and something needed to change."  As though Trump would be the great uniter.  Depressing.

I do feel better this morning.  Writing does my soul good.  A couple of hours on my blog is as good as a session of psychotherapy.  But I say that with caution.  My cycle when depressed is that as the day goes on the depression worsens.  I have written in the past about the wave of depression that overwhelms me in the late afternoon, rolling in like the San Francisco fog.  That could be where I'm at, feeling good in the morning, overwhelmed by night.

The knocking at the door persists.  This is not a welcome guest.

I formulate a list in my head of things that would make me happy.  Unfortunately, many of those things are on another list, symptoms of mania.  I wonder how much study has been done about that relationship.  The high risk adrenaline pumping adventures of mania are an antidote to the weight and burden of depression.

And so I listen to the knocking at the door.  Part of the solution is to open the door and face the demon.  Call it by name.  Recognize it for what it is.  My own thought is that depression is more likely to be catastrophic when it is not recognized.  It is helpful to recognize that I only 'feel' depressed.  In truth, life is not that bad.  Emotions are real, but they do not define reality.

I will sleep some more.  And then face a new day.  Worship this morning.  Recognizing Jesus.  One of my themes in the sermon today is that we see through a mirror dimly, meaning that our human nature is to see a reflection of ourselves even as we seek to see Jesus.  We cannot see the real Jesus in the mirror, though.  We look to the cross.  And in the breaking of the bread their eyes were opened.

This is my body, this is my blood, given, shed, for you.  Comforting words.  Words that speak of redemption.  Faith sustains during the dark night of the soul.

One of the ministries of the people of God is to believe on behalf of the besieged.  When we, in our weakness are overwhelmed to the point that faith and hope evade us, others maintain that faith and hope on our behalf.  And that is sufficient.

On Hope and Healing

Early in the morning I sit in the blessed silence of this new year, reflecting on what has been and wondering what is yet to be.  Life is good.  For a bipolar person this is an accomplishment.  Treatment has been successful, though is always an ongoing process.  There is no cure, only effective management.  Take your meds and don't write checks for more than a million dollars without consulting others first!

As I continue to live into recovery I am struck by one reality that continues to define my life, and perhaps lies at the root of an unsettledness about my existence.  It has to do with my vocation and calling.

Since successfully going through chemical dependency treatment, and being diagnosed as being bipolar and treated for the same, there has been a caution exhibited regarding my capabilities.  This has resulted in myself, my family, my health team and the church being extremely careful and concerned about the situation in which I serve, lest I experience triggers that might bring on a relapse or set back.  What I find ironic is that I had no restrictions when I was a drunk manic depressive, but now that I'm sober and enjoying the greatest mood stability of my life, the restrictions, formal and informal still are in place.

Lets just say that there is a degree of caution that all of us, aware of my situation, exhibit, and perhaps it's warranted.  No one, including myself, wants to see a recurrence and that does affect our attitudes. 

And yet my deepest desire is to be able to 'fly' again, this time sober and stable.

I find myself assessing my health with the dawn of a new year.

• Depression, which was disabling, is gone now, hopefully forever.  Better living through chemicals.  
• Anxiety is at an all time low.  The uncertainty about my future, our financial stability, etc., would normally have produced great anxiety.  Amazingly this is not so.  It will work out is the living conviction.  
• Mania, that exuberant friend and foe, has not been present for a little over 4 years now.  That's a good sign.
• Sleep is another matter.  In general I get sufficient sleep. My life and work schedule have me sleeping at non-typical hours, going to bed early, waking even earlier.  I would wish for a more normal pattern and extended sleep without the constant arousal and waking.  But I'm functioning.
• I haven't tried to save the world recently.
• I have been working on the ability to 'not engage' in matters that really are not my problem.
• I see more light than darkness.

In general I feel good.

It's not that life doesn't have its ups and downs.  I currently serve a small parish with only about 20 in worship on a Sunday morning.  During my 'up times' I'm optimistic that we can right the ship, and with new development coming in the community grow as a congregation.  During my 'down times' I fear that a small congregation like this just does not have the critical mass necessary to attract new members.  And yet these highs and lows are moderate, within a normal range.  

I do find myself contemplating the future and what it holds.  I'll be honest, I really desire the opportunity to be fully engaged in ministry and to be able to test my wings now that I'm sober and stable.  Whether that happens within the context of this call, or in a new call, or not at all is the question.

I'm personally torn between a piety that says "God will place me exactly where I need to be" and a sense that I need to be proactive in seeking out that which will be fulfilling.  Its probably a little bit of both.  

This internal debate becomes a bipolar issue when it manifests itself as either fatalistic resignation or a conquest.  Depression or mania.  

Dare to dream the dream.  

Kennon Callahan, a church consultant, once said that one of the most critical questions for a congregation is whether they see their best  years as being behind them, or still yet to come.  This is my question now.  Have I already experienced the apex of my ministry, or is the best yet to come?

What is difficult is that the answer to that question is somewhat out of my control.  That's where faith comes in.  We live by faith.  It's not just a resignation, but a conviction.  We tend to the task at hand, we stand ready to respond to a new day, and we remain steadfast in our belief that in the end, God is in charge.  I'm reminded of the experience during my early morning commutes to Hayden.  There are those occasions where the weather leaves the road obscure and I find myself following the taillights in front of me.  There is a significant amount of faith involved in trusting that if you just follow those lights, and those who have gone before you, that you will be fine.

2018.  Hope.  But no certainty.  Life is an ambiguous journey.  And that may have to suffice. 

Sacred Vocation or a Fool's Pastime

There is a bipolar nature to ministry itself.  An ebb and flow from the heights to the depths.  At one end of the spectrum is a conviction that this vocation is a most sacred calling.  At the other end of the spectrum is a depressing thought that perhaps ministry itself is but a fool's pastime.  As a sacred calling ministry taps into the manic side of our existence.  As a fool's pastime there is nothing but despair and an overwhelming sense of irrelevance.

And it all hinges on the question of life, truth, and that which is of ultimate importance.  And it is a question of faith.

God either is, or is not.

The Gospel either is a matter of ultimate importance, or it is not.

These questions confront us more and more as the culture in which we live drifts toward an increasingly secular society where faith in God is either non-existent, or a matter of little importance.  "When the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?"  (Luke 18:8)

Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. So Jesus asked the twelve, "Do you also wish to go away?" Simon Peter answered him, "Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God."  (John 6:66-69)

This is the thing about ministry.  We are caught between these two poles.  At one end of the spectrum we are confronted with a world that increasingly has no faith.  At the other are those who cling to our words as the way of eternal life.  The ministry we share as the Church is either the highest of callings, or a pitiful excuse of a way to live.

At times of deep depression, when faith eludes me, I sometimes view myself and my life as that of a modern day medicine man, leading the tribe in the ritual of the Ghost Dance, clothing them in the Ghost Shirts in the vain effort to protect them from all evil, and yet, unable to stop the bullets from penetrating.

At times of deep faith there is a sense of walking with my people from the cradle to the gates of heaven.  In these sacred moments there is a recognition that this ministry we share is an integral part of God's redemptive work for all creation.  That the Word we are called to proclaim has the same power as the Word God spoke at the beginning of time-- the power to call forth life itself.

What is truth?

It is either one or the other.  There is no in between.  The faith we hold dear is not just an icing on the cake, a sweet topping to make life more palatable.  Either God is or is not.  And that makes a difference.  It makes a difference in the way we live.  It makes a difference in what is of ultimate importance.  Or it is a fool's pastime.

What song shall we sing?

Sifting through Advice

Having received the report of the psychologist that recently evaluated me, I find myself seeking discernment.  What do I make of it all, and how can I best utilize the advice offered there.  I've already shared that there are some things that came out of this process that I am, oh shall I say, humored by.  That my number one vocational choice, according to one test, is to be a librarian floored me.  Not on the radar screen.  Nope, no way, no how.  

There are other suggestions within the final report that seem good on the surface but which are easier said than done.  Re-evaluate the condition of my knees, considering a second opinion, to the end that I might pursue an intentional exercise program to reduce stress.  OK, so that sounds good enough, but a psychologist's opinion about the state of my knees pales in comparison to the agreement of two orthopedic surgeons, one of whom operated on me.  I have a degenerative condition.  The old knees are going to continue to get worse.  The menisci are wasting away.  Eventually it will be bone on bone.  In the mean time I've been told to hold off as long as possible, and then will come the process of injections, followed by knee replacement.  It makes extensive exercise a challenge.

Its not that I'm adverse to exercise as a means of dealing with stress, cardiovascular health, or even my depression and insomnia.  I used to walk hours at night to unwind.  Just ask the people in Baker and Thompson Falls, some of whom called the police to report the "prowler" walking the streets late at night.  I probably logged ten miles a night during those times, even in the dead of winter.  

The struggle now is that I have a choice.  If I exert myself with exercise, my knees are so sore that it is difficult to make it through the next day's work.  One activity pays the bills, the other doesn't.  You choose. . .

I will have to admit that I also take the importance of intentional exercise with a grain of salt.  You see, when I was working a desk job, the importance of physical exercise was pretty straight forward.  Today, I'm putting in 10 hour days doing physically demanding labor.  I may not be "exercising" but I'm quite physically active.  

The importance of reducing stress is not lost on me though.  Its just that there is more than one way to skin a cat.  Walking may help cope with it, but I've found getting at the root of it is even more important.

One development that I wouldn't have predicted is the effect of "diversifying my portfolio", to coin a phrase.  Necessity required that following my resignation from my last call, I find ways to survive financially.  For a while I had disability benefits, I was working at my own business, and thankfully, Karla had a good job.  When disability benefits stopped, I was able to find a job in a cabinet shop, which together with the business and Karla's work, met our needs.  And currently, I have also received an offer to re-enter ministry on a part time basis.

The net result is that our livelihood is no longer dependent on any one thing.  Our eggs are no longer all in one basket.  I am amazed at how much that has reduced the stress that I experience.  There will be something to fall back on if changes should occur.  

All this is to say, that some very good goals came out of the evaluation (being a librarian, excepted!!), but how I pursue those goals may be different than suggested.  But then, that's what discernment is all about.

Resilience

"Well, Dave, you certainly get the "land on your feet" award for the year!"

These were the words of my colleague back in '99 when having been just terminated from a call in SE Montana, I received a call to serve in Sandpoint, ID.  It could have been so much worse.  And over the next 13 years I was to experience what will likely be the highlight of my career in the ministry, though I hesitate to say that because who knows what is yet to come.

More recently, my bishop said "I continue to be amazed at your resilience."  I like that word, resilience.  Life presents no small amount of challenges.  In the midst of those challenges we are invited to live by faith, believing that God will deliver us.  We will not be spared difficult times-- into every life there will come challenges, many of which might defeat us, if we let them.  What God promises, though, is to deliver us, not spare us.  Resilience is a gift of the Spirit I believe.  And it is  rooted in the promises of God.

When the prophets speak about the remnant that shall return, they speak about the resilience of God's people.  That though the nation was destroyed, nevertheless, God will preserve a remnant, and from that remnant a renewed and restored nation will arise.  A shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse.  Resilience.

I mentioned in my last post that the congregation where I've been serving as a supply pastor was voting on offering me the position of interim/transitional minister.  Yet to be determined is whether the position will be an interim, or transitional ministry, the difference being that a transitional pastor may in time be offered a regular call to serve the congregation.  But that's a question for tomorrow.  

What I am well aware of today is that it's been nearly four years since my health required that I leave the ministry, and now today, I have been asked once again to serve under call.  There have been times in the last four years that I thought this day would never come.  I imagined that my being bipolar would make it all but impossible to serve again.  But today, the people of Peace Lutheran will call me "Pastor Dave".  Bouncing back, resilience, a spiritual gift.

I have been amazed at how this has happened.  Sometimes, God's timing is impeccable.  When I was being terminated from my call in eastern Montana, back in 1999, there were two council meetings that were pivotal.  At the first, a report was received from the Synod that stated that I should not be terminated.  The next night, the council rejected that report, and voted to move forward with the termination process.  In between those two meetings, I received a phone call, out of the blue, from a woman in Sandpoint asking if she could nominate me to be their next pastor.  I subsequently received that call.  

Over the last few years, we have been deeply dependent on my wife's job, and those benefits.  Currently, there is a change of leadership at her place of employment, and with that changing of the guard there are new expectations and there is significant uncertainty how she will fit into the new leadership team.  The security blanket which has sustained us throughout these last four years is now in question.  The only thing that is certain is that things are changing.

What amazes me is that even before those matters are resolved plan "B" (or is it plan C, D, or E) is in place.  I have been asked to serve Peace Lutheran on a half time basis, and my employer at the cabinet shop has consented to the change of schedule necessary so that I might work there as well, with the net result that my income will now be sufficient to maintain our household.  Resilience.

Again, I am convinced that resilience is not a personal ability, but a gift of the Spirit.  It is by the grace of God that we are able to come out on the other side of life's challenges, living to see another day.  And as the old adage says, "if it doesn't kill you, it will make you stronger."

Having said that, there is one thing I would like to say to God.  I think I'm strong enough, now.  Let's take a break from all the adversity for a while and settle into a stable new "normal".  It would be appreciated.

"And not only that, but we also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us."

Resilience.

Sufficiency, Stability, and the Grace of God

There is a fear that has accompanied the experiences of the last few years.  We have experienced on challenge after another.  None of them have proven to be insurmountable.  We gotten through them.  For example, on numerous occasions I've been overwhelmed with the implications of my income taking one hit after another.  Financial ruin has seemed to loom on the horizon.  But those fears never materialized.  However, even as I have experienced this good fortune, I've continued to fear that sooner or later the other shoe will drop.

Yet, to date, our experience has been that with each challenge there have been the resources to deal with that.  Case in point, earlier this year I had to have a hernia repair.  Surgery is a major expense even with insurance.  And yet, we were able to pay cash for the deductible and co-pay.  And now, it seems as though the other shoe has dropped.  My wife requires surgery and it is scheduled for  tomorrow.  Yet once again, we have the resources to pay cash for the deductible and co-pay.  Two surgeries in one year.  Fears abound and yet are unfounded.

Sufficiency is what I'm learning.  I may not always have what I want, but what I have will be sufficient.  

And then, there is stability.  The meds seem to be working.  Life happens.  Sometimes shit happens.  But those things that at one point would have thrown me into mania or depression are not having that effect now.  One response to that is to wonder why I'm not more excited or depressed about life events.  For better or worse, what I've been accustomed to is fairly major responses to this experiences.  That's the nature of being bipolar.  Mood swings exceed the normal.  And yet, I'm getting used to a new normal.  And that takes some getting used to.  

Through it all, with every passing day, I am becoming more and more aware of the Grace of God.  Not only that, but learning anew the art of living one day at a time.  You see, by God's grace I have come to believe that I will have enough to meet the needs of today.  I may not have enough to 'guarantee' that tomorrow's needs will be met.  But for today, we're good.

My wife asked a couple days ago a question about this.  Namely, "Why us?"  There have been many people who have experienced financial hardships that have resulted in their losing their home.  Does it make sense to talk about the grace of God allowing us to keep ours, while others lose theirs?  Well, the truth is that losing our home may be another issue that we have to face sometime in the future.  I don't know.  There are no guarantees.

What I do believe is that if we are not able to keep this home, if we have to sell, we will still have enough.  I don't fear ending up living in the WalMart parking lot.  

And  yet there is another dimension.  That whether we have much, or little, what we have is and always will be, a gift from God.  And I guess that is what I've learned through all of this.

And one final word.  Today the congregation I serve will be voting to extend an offer to me to serve as their pastor.  What the future is in all this, I do not know.  But for today, it seems right.

And today is all we've got.

"Marian, Madam Librarian:"

Ah, the testing.  Insightful at times.  Questionable at times.  Humorous at times.

On Wednesday of this week I went and met with the psychologist that the synod had selected to review my readiness to resume pastoral ministry.  It was a marathon session, lasting from 11 in the morning to nearly 4 in the afternoon.  In addition to a lot of conversation with the psychologist and another mental health professional she had present, there was the MMPI to take.  The strongest result of the MMPI was that I was an introvert.  OK, I knew that.  Roughly 2/3 of all pastors are likewise introverts.  

What was most interesting was getting the results of the Strong Interest Inventory, a test aimed at getting at your ideal vocations.  At first glance the results seemed to be what I'd anticipate.  My five top interest areas were:

1. Religion and Spirituality
2. Counseling and Helping
3. Writing and Mass Communication
4. Performing Arts
5. Mechanics and Construction

Now, my immediate reaction was that for someone with  28 years of pastoral ministry experience, who is also an accomplished musician and furniture builder, these made a lot of sense.  Yep, that's who I am.

And then came the recommendation.  

The top ten occupations suggested were:

1. Librarian
2. Rehabilitation Counselor
3. Urban and Regional Planner
4. Architect
5. Editor
6. Training and Developmental Specialist
7. Musician
8. Human Resources Manager
9. Translator
10. Arts/Entertainment Manager

Librarian?  What?  Where did that come from?  Religious leader did show up on the list but it didn't make the top ten.  Librarian?

As I shared with the psychologist, there is nothing remotely interesting to me, at all, not the slightest bit, about being a librarian, at least as I understand that vocation, and I'll admit, that my understanding of it is limited.  Some of the suggested vocations make sense, though I'd question whether they were my top interests.  An editor, for example, would make sense if it involved writing editorials.  On the other hand, as someone who struggled more with foreign language classes than any other course work, translator seems a bit of a stretch.  Were I to change vocations, I could very much see myself as a chemical dependency counselor due to my background.  And at one point in my life, I was intent on becoming a professional tuba player, so that too makes sense.  

All that said, at the age of 59, all this talk of "preferred vocations", given my interests, is a bit of a moot point.  To retrain at this point (getting a degree in the library sciences, for example .  .  . ugh, the very thought makes me cringe,) would take a significant amount of time, money, and would not likely pay off in the long run.  I really would enjoy being an architect, true.  But I'm not about to go back to college, earn that degree, and then at the age of 63 or 64 try and break into a new career.  Not likely to become the next Frank Lloyd Wright.  

We did talk a lot about ministry.  I haven't seen her final report, yet, though I did press her for an initial reaction to our conversation.  Her primary concern that she shared was that I not relocate at this time.  It is essential that I be able to continue my relationship with my health care team as I'm still quite new at this business of living with a bipolar diagnosis.  That I would agree with 100%.  

Another reaction that came about in the conversation, was in response to my sharing that my wife has been concerned that reentry into ministry might trigger a relapse of the bipolar symptoms.  "What guarantees could you offer her?"  "In life, there are no guarantees." was my response.  I think that the best that I can offer, is that I now know how to respond should symptoms of mania or depression resurface.  That is helpful, regardless of what occupation I pursue.

A final thought:  The question came up about what precautions I might take to protect the congregation I serve from becoming a 'victim' of my manic impulses, should they arise.  My response-- I'll inform them that if I put any proposal on the council's agenda that involves spending more than a million dollars, they should check with the bishop first.  

Sound advice.  

"Crazy Dave"

"Crazy Dave"

That's a moniker that one of my supervisors at work uses for me.  Another supervisor has described my personality at work at mellow, and laid back.  The "crazy Dave" name is used in jest, as many of my coworkers carry similar nicknames, depending on who your talking about.  But whenever I hear it, I laugh to myself and think, "Oh, if only he knew."

Today,  I'm up early again as my mind is thinking about the evaluation I will be having.  After work this afternoon I am  heading to Richland, WA where I will be meeting with the Synod's psychologist tomorrow for an evaluation to determine my readiness to return to pastoral ministry.  I'm uncharacteristically at peace with this whole process.  I don't  perceive a problem.  But I do find certain things interesting.

One of the questions on the preliminary interview form that I was asked to fill out was about pornography.  "How often do you visit porn sites on the web?  Daily?  Occasionally?  Not at all?"  OK, so lets just say to begin with that viewing porn sites is generally "frowned upon in this establishment" that is our home.  Not only that, without having to rely on personal experience of porn sites, over my years in the ministry I have dealt with the harmful effects of porn in my parishioner's lives.  "Women like to be taken by force" is an actual statement made to a woman in my congregation by her spouse.  That man did not learn that from women, I can assure you, but from porn sites, no doubt.

As I've thought about that question though, I'm reminded of something I was told back in seminary days, during Clinical Pastoral Education, that psychological tests often have questions that are designed to measure, not any particular response, but the basic honesty with which the test is being answered.  "If you could get away with it, would you keep money that was not yours?" was one such question.  The assumption is that if we are being totally honest, all of us would do that given the opportunity, and the purpose of the question is to see if we're being honest enough to admit that.  I'm suspicious that the question about porn may be a similar "truth barometer".  

(For the record, as an adolescent victim of an abusive relationship with a band director, I was exposed to an unhealthy dose of pornography.  For example, he took me to "Clockwork Orange" while I was in junior high.  I found out then that the eroticism of porn is always mixed with its repulsiveness.)

I'm also going to be taking the MMPI.  Is that the one that asks repeatedly about whether or not you look at your stools after going to the bathroom?  I took one test years ago that did.  Repeatedly.  I thought that whoever wrote this test sure has a fascination with people's potty habits. 

All that aside, as I anticipate going through yet another evaluation I find myself confronted with the question of presentation.  When I was being evaluated for disability, those conducting the interviews were primarily interested in any sign of health that would enable them to deny my disability.  When being screened for fitness to return to work, there would be a natural tendency to focus on any evidence that would call into question whether I am ready.  And so there is this question of presentation, specifically, do you try to present yourself in a positive or negative light, depending on the nature of the evaluation.  When I was being evaluated for qualifying for disability benefits it is natural to focus on those things that prohibit one from functioning in a healthy manner.   As I'm being evaluated now for fitness to reenter the ministry, it is natural to try and present myself in a positive light, minimizing any difficulties.

Somewhere in the middle, lies the truth.  (Isn't that an interesting phrase?  "Lies the truth.")  There is part of me that longs for a comprehensive neutral evaluation.  Not skewed for any particular outcome, but which genuinely deals with the full spectrum of how I'm doing, without prejudice.

I think that if we can get to that, the conclusion would be something like this.  Through extensive use of medication and therapy, he's made significant progress in stabilizing his mood swings and is generally in a healthy place, though there will always be the risk that his moods could destabilize again due to certain triggers.  Continued monitoring and managing through medication and therapy will alleviate much of that risk, though not all.

Well, we'll see.

Torn between two lovers. . .

I'm happy to report that my insomnia has greatly improved now that I have gone back on Rozerem.  I actually slept all the way through the night on one occasion last week.  Thankfully, my wife heard my phone buzzing as I forgot and left it on vibrate.  That is only the second time in the last year that I have slept until the alarm rang.  I used to be able to sleep well into the morning.  Waking was hard, as was going to sleep.  But once asleep, I could remain asleep for 8 to 10 hours.  Today, I count it as a great accomplishment to sleep till the alarm rings at 3:45 am.  That's sleeping in.

This morning I awoke at 1:15 or so.  I laid back down for an hour.  But then, back up.

Part of the struggle is that I've grown to love the night.  I love the silent solitude.  The time to meditate.  To reflect.  To write.

And yet, when I sleep through the night, I'm much more productive during the day.  It feels good.  

The ongoing struggle with sleep is a reminder to me that, though I generally feel much better than I have in the past, there is still that ever present issue of my mental illness.  Manic times come and go.  As does the depression.  But the sleep disorder has been a constant.  

"May cause drowsiness. . ."  Four of my primary medications carry this warning.  When my physicians look at the list of drugs that I am on, their reaction tends to be that anyone of them should be sufficient to knock me out.  It would a normal person.  For example, Rozerem is a melatonin based medication, but, according to my doctor, 12,000 times more potent than the melatonin you can buy as a sleep aid.  And it helps.  But that is on top of three additional medications, some of which are themselves prescribed as sleep aids.  My brain seems to be like the Everready bunny - it just keeps on going. . .

Would that I could consistently sleep through the night.  And yet there would be a loss if I did.  That's my time.  Its when I think, and write.  A sermon that might take a good portion of the day to write, flows freely and quickly in the night.  

But I realize that there is something else going on.  Its a matter of identity.  This time has started to shape my identity.  As desperately as I want to sleep, there is also part of me that refuses to give up this part of my life.  Its a bit of a conundrum.  

Acceptance is one of the things I am learning through all of this.  Take each day as it comes.  There is little to be gained by wishing a particular day was different than it was.  Some nights I sleep better than others.  Some nights I enjoy the solitude and time to reflect.

One of the things that comes with that acceptance, is that it is a hedge against depression.  A major part of depression comes from the desire that things be different than they are, and the disappointment that they are not.  

To accept each day as it unfolds is to receive it with gratitude.  And a grateful heart is not a depressed heart.  And so today, this night, I'll simply give thanks for this time.  Perhaps in a while I'll be able to rest some more.  Perhaps, not.  It is what it is.  And that's alright.

Tranquility

It creeps up on you.  And then one day you realize that life is well.  All is calm.

Of course, those who have been reading my blog know that it has not always been that way.

For me, one of the signs that  things are much better is that I'm not sure if I should even be writing any more, or if I do, what should I write about.  Oh, my, no crisis, no clear manifestation of this disease, nothing that I could categorize according to the six major symptoms of mania, nor am I exhibiting signs of depression.

Sleep remains a problem.  True.  But it always has been.  I met with my neurologist, the sleep specialist on Friday, and I came to a conclusion.  When I lost insurance coverage for mental illness I also lost coverage for the one medication that had showed promise of really helping my insomnia - Rozerem.  At a cost of $300 or so per month, I felt at the time that I simply couldn't afford to continue it.  Now, with the hope that our financial situation will be improving, I am more convinced that $10 a day is a small price to pay, with or without insurance, to address this one last symptom.  And to be brutally honest, sleeping through the night would substantially reduce my smoking, and the cost thereof, offsetting some of the cost of the medication.  And so I'm going to try it.

The evaluations that I'm going through relative to my health are proceeding at a snail's pace.  First, my doctors, like so many, simply didn't drop everything to submit their reports to the Synod's psychologist.  Now that they have been submitted, the Synod's psychologist is out of town for a few weeks.  That said, unlike prior evaluations, I'm surprisingly calm regarding this one.

Part of that is in the living.  The purpose of this latest evaluation is to determine if I've stabilized enough to resume pastoral ministry.  And as the evaluation is unfolding, I am already serving a congregation as a supply pastor, and anticipate that this role will become an interim pastor.  If I'm successfully engaged in pastoral ministry, then that becomes a rather significant piece of the evaluation, doesn't it?  "Can he do it?  Well, he is doing it."

And so why write a blog post?  What's to report?

It is possible, with appropriate medication and therapeutic  support, for the mentally ill to stabilize and live a normal, functional, and yes, tranquil life.

I think that needs to be said.

It needs to be said in order to provide hope for people like me, during those times when it seems like the cycling and suffering will never stop.

It needs to be said so that some of the stigma related to mental illness may be alleviated.

Meanwhile, I will lead worship and preach in a few hours.  Monday morning I will go to my job in Hayden.  I will come home after the 10 hour shift, tired, but not depressed.  I will take a quick nap.  Have dinner.  Relax,  And go to bed.  Then do it all over again.

In the midst of all this, there are those opportunities to enjoy our grandchild, (and children).

All very normal things.

Rather good for a change.

"Pastor Dave"

Its not my first rodeo, but perhaps one of my most significant.

In a few hours I will greet the congregation at Peace Lutheran in Otis Orchards and begin a relationship that could last a few weeks, months, perhaps even longer.

And I will have the privilege of introducing myself once again as "Pastor Dave".

To a certain extent, leading worship again will be like riding a bicycle.  No matter how much time has past, the mechanics of it all will be second nature, and I will feel at home,  once again.  

But this matter of "Pastor Dave".  During the last few years I have had to make some adjustments.  I have been somewhat uncomfortable being referred to as pastor in the congregation  we've been attending in Newport.  I  may still be on the clergy roster, but I was not called to be their pastor.  I've served as treasurer and signed my name to reports as simply "Dave Olson".  There was a concerted effort to recreate my identity apart from the office of pastor.

And yet I also have found myself clinging to that identity as well.  My email address is pastordavidolson@gmail.com.  I turned to blogging because I needed to keep writing about that which matters.  It was a pulpit that was available to me.  "Pastor Dave" lived on in the wee hours of the morning at this keyboard.

What will be different today is that when people address me as "Pastor Dave", it will carry with it the connotation once again that its not just about my personal identity, but it will speak to a relationship with a congregation.  That is significant.

All this being said, I'm a different person today, than I was on January 27th, 2013.  (My last Sunday at First Lutheran.)

Today, I think I know better the meaning of "'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.'  So, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me."

There is a part of me that feels vulnerable because of all I've publicly shared about my journey with being bipolar on this site and elsewhere as well.  I find myself wondering if those from Otis Orchards have explored my Facebook page, and learned of all my struggles.  And if so, what is their judgment?  

That being said, I think it fair to say that for any congregation to fully embrace me as their pastor, they will need to know me as a person as well.  To withhold a significant part of who I am from them, is to hold them at a distance.  

But there is a witness in all of this as well.  God's grace will be sufficient.  Our own weaknesses actually serve the purpose of helping us to more fully depend, not on our own abilities, but on the power of God.  I am reminded of John the Baptist's words:  "I am not the Messiah."  Just a voice crying out in the wilderness.

And in my weakness, bearing witness to the one who has all power.

"Pastor Dave" they will call me.  

And with the words "The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all" the service will begin.

"Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ."

And in the midst of these well worn words, I will find my voice once again, which is actually not my voice at all.  

That's my prayer, this morning.
Amen

Vision & Grandiosity

A healthy balance.  That's what we are after.  Not too high, not too low, just be content to be in the middle.  Breathe deeply.  Watch for the extremes.   Ah, life.

Sunday I will be supply preaching at a congregation and will continue with them through the month of July.  This gig could also develop into an interim ministry.  It marks the possibility of a real turning point in my life, the return to active ministry of Word and Sacrament.  It is exciting.

There remain lots of questions.  My medical team has spent considerable effort over the last three and a half years justifying my being on disability and with that giving me the opportunity to have a financial safety net and the space and time to focus on healing and health.  Portico Benefits has now repeatedly rendered their opinion that I no longer qualify for those benefits, that I'm healthy enough to return to work.  

This puts my medical team in an interesting situation.  Do they follow Portico's lead and change their position?  "Permanently disabled" was a term once used.  Its true to one extent.  Bipolar disorder is a permanent condition.  But the whole point of being under the care and treatment plan of a psychiatrist and psychologist is to stabilize that condition and get to the point where one is able to function fully.  I look at it from the standpoint of relative health.  I'm in a much better place than I was 3 years ago, even 1 year ago.  It seems to be working.

And so I'm excited about the opportunity to resume pastoral ministry in a more substantial way.

And then my mind starts racing with the visions of what that might look like.

Here's where it gets tricky.  God has given me the ability to always see potential and possibility.  I'm never content to simply maintain things the way they are.  Even prior to any significant interaction with the congregation in question, I start envisioning possibilities.  I think that can be a good thing, to a certain extent, especially if it is subject to a reality check as I get to know the congregation.  But to be excited about the future is a good thing.

The caution flag though, is to not allow my excitement to morph into grandiosity and a manic episode.  Breathe deeply.  Take medication.  Be realistic.  Take one day at a time.  Do the next right thing.  The Kingdom of God may be at hand, but don't try to single handedly bring it about.  

Preach the word.  Teach. Care for the congregation.  Lead as you are called to lead.  Follow as the time is right to follow.  Be content with what are in fact realistic expectations and small steps forward.  Not the time to envision a mega-church.  How about focusing on something like a decent web site.  

I don't know what the future holds.

What I do know is that Sunday, I will be called Pastor Dave once again.

And that feels good.

Snapshots of a moving target

Being evaluated.  This is one of the least enjoyable aspects of being bipolar.

The latest update on my disability claim is that Portico Benefits continues to maintain that I am not disabled, and nothing is preventing me from working.  That said, I'm willing to accept that judgment if in fact nothing is preventing my from working.

To that I'm going through a second round of evaluations, this by the psychologist that does assessments for the Synod's candidacy committee.  A positive outcome of this evaluation would clear me to resume ministry in at least some capacity.  My hopes are that both evaluations reach the same conclusion.  What I don't want is for Portico to say there is nothing preventing me from work, so I don't qualify for benefits, while the church says that being bipolar is a significant enough impediment to being able to perform pastoral responsibilities that they cannot recommend me for call.  

One of the things that is difficult is determining the parameters of information that is relevant to an evaluation today.  The disability people have always been very limited in what they would accept -- "How is he doing today, or for the last month?"  They do not want a history.  They are not interested in how I was six months ago.  They only want to consider current status.

While trying to qualify for disability benefits this was a challenge.  Bipolar people cycle through moods, and it might be months (even years) between the peaks and valleys.  "Today's mood" is not the whole picture.  

Now that I'm being evaluated for returning to ministry, my doctors have a similar question to answer.  Do they render an opinion based on today, or on the whole history of my involvement with them?  Today I may be able to handle ministry, even challenging ministry, just fine.  But in that cycling is part of being bipolar, there is no guarantee that I won't cycle back into either a depressed mood or a manic episode.  

My hopes are that the medications that I am on have provided sufficient stability as to minimize that risk.  But the only way to really know is to be thrown back into the thick of it, into stressful situations that are known to be triggers for me, and to see how I react.  

But even that is a little misleading because I'm a polished professional at internalizing feelings, and not letting them get to me, that is, not letting you know they are getting to me, all the while they are eating me up inside.

I want to resume ministry.  It is what I feel called to do.

The best that I can offer by way of assurance to the Church is this:

1. I will continue therapy and accept the assistance of my medical team to monitor my moods, and their help to stabilize those moods should they swing out of the normal spectrum;
2. I will remain on medication to further help stabilize the moods;
3. I will be attentive to my own 'red flags' that are indicators that I'm experiencing depression or mania and seek immediate help if I am;
4. And finally, though I hope this isn't the outcome, if I can't do it, I will graciously accept that.  

Here is where my personal faith and piety also enters in.  I honestly believe that I can serve, even with this "thorn in my flesh" because God's power is "made perfect in weakness".  To put it differently, I believe that those whom God calls to ministry, God also equips for ministry.  

That's what gives me the courage to proceed at this time.  Knowing that God's grace will be sufficient.

Do not torment me.

(I am sharing this post from my other blog because of its relevance. You can find that blog at wanderingsthroughtheword.com)

Name the names if you must, just do not torment me with but another promise of a cure if all you can offer is a diagnosis.  

The hardest thing is the recognition and acceptance of diseases, chronic in nature, and which allow only a promise that you can learn to live with them, manage them, but never cure them.

I am drawn to these texts about demonic possession in the bible in a different way since being diagnosed with a variety of mental health disorders.  I'm one who believes that in Jesus' day, such disorders were personified as 'demons'.  Our world view has changed.  We are less likely to personify such things.  Diseases not demons.  But by whatever name you call them, or how you personify them, the simple truth is this:  that they can take over our life in ways that our very identity with which we have lived is replaced by another whom we do not know.

Dysthymic disorder; major depression, unresponsive; suicidal  ideation; chemical dependency; chronic insomnia; post traumatic stress disorder; general anxiety disorder; bipolar disorder;-- and the list of names could go on: first tier, second tier, third tier, etc. .  Each one of those manifesting symptoms, such as manic episodes, defining the days of our lives and shaping our behaviors in ways that do not seem to be true to who we actually are, or at least who we thought we were.  Personal identity is the ultimate casualty of such suffering.  This is who I am.  Live with it.

And then comes the one who calls out the demons, naming them by name.  

And into the swine those demons go.  Ever wonder what a bipolar pig is like?

There is something missing in this text, implied but missing.  We know this man only as the Gerasene demoniac.  What is your name?  And the man said "Legion", for many were the demons that had possessed him.  What I wish were there is Jesus speaking the man's true name, and in doing so, calling forth his true identity.  

"David!"

And might we add to that "David, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ, forever."

Of all the things that could be said in response to mental illness, perhaps this is the most important.  The "you" is sealed by the Holy Spirit, sealed off from the threat of all those other spirits that would seize our identity.  Sealed by the Holy Spirit, marked with the cross of Christ, our identity forever rooted in him.  

Interesting that the swine rushed down the hill, plunged into the lake, and were drowned.  I never heard a baptismal sermon preached on this text.  But there it is.  And out of the water comes a man, in his right mind, or shall I say, "righteous".  

It is dangerous for one who is mentally ill to declare oneself healed.  Many a bipolar person has experience disastrous consequences because they became convinced they were healed and ceased their medication.  The truth is that some of these diseases are chronic, they will not just go away.  But, they need not define our identity or claim our souls.

I am not my disease.  That is not my name.  I don't know who "Legion" is, but it is not me.

"David, child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ, forever."

That is healing enough for me.

Courage

Courage is not the lack of fear, but the ability to act in the face of it.

"Do you realize how many fighter pilots shit in their pants while in the midst of a dog fight?"  I don't know if this comment was meant to be taken figuratively, or literally, but I've remembered it.  The point was very clear, though.  Its not that  there isn't a lot to be afraid of, or that fighter pilots are so brave as to never experience fear.  The point is that they have the courage to do their job in spite of their fears.

Living with bipolar disorder means living with the fear that another depressed or manic episode is right around the corner.  Its hard not to evaluate every option that life presents from the standpoint of whether or not that choice would produce a depressed or manic episode, and what the consequences would be if I experienced an episode.  Fear.

As I've written about before, I have three major possibilities looming in the future.  First, the appeals process for my disability claim goes on at a snail's pace.  At some point, there will be a determination of whether I qualify for continued benefits, or not.  If I qualify, there would be a financial safety net in place, and a restoration of my health benefits, the most important of which would be that I'd get mental health coverage again.  The negative side to this is that winning the appeal would also be an admission of my own inabilities.  A positive judgment regarding the appeal, is a negative assessment of my health status.  Yup, still crazy.

The second major issue is that I've begun the process of seeking re-reinstatement to the roles of active ordained ministers.  Related to the first issue, I am voluntarily submitting to an independent psychological evaluation to determine if this is possible and advisable.  If the outcome of this is positive it would render the whole appeal of the denial of disability benefits moot.  If negative, it would add evidence to the appeals process.  However, the primary motivation is that I do feel called to return in some capacity to ordained ministry and a positive assessment by the Synod's psychiatrist would make that possible.

And finally, a client of mine believes that he has a realistic possibility of selling fifteen or so of my dining sets to clients in Vietnam.  That would be nearly a half million dollar commission for me, a real once in a lifetime opportunity for a woodworker.  Of course, expanding my business to accommodate such an order comes with all sorts of risks.

Fear.  Each of this possibilities brings with it plenty of fear.

I experienced the deepest depression of my life while on disability.  To a certain extent that was why I was on disability, but there is also the fact that being considered disabled, and unable to work, is a very depressing place to find one's self.  Were it to be determined that I remain disabled, will the  depression return?  I don't anticipate elation as being my response to such a determination.

Secondly, what would the impact of returning to ministry be?  My biggest fear all along has been that I would either not be able  to function because the depression returned, or that I might experience a manic episode which could result in all sorts of undesirable behaviors.  Fear.

And thirdly, a half million dollar commission sounds, well, like a golden opportunity.  Unless of course, one considers that high risk and ill advised business decisions are a major symptom of mania. Add to that the fact that it would involve some major investments in equipment, taking on some employees, and leasing shop space-- all of which could fall under the category of reckless spending sprees (another symptom of mania) and there is much to fear.

The thing I realize is that there is no risk free option.  Though I have the hope that my medications and treatment for the bipolar disorder has resulted in a significant stabilization of my moods, one can never know for sure until the "stress test" has been applied.  I won't know how I will respond to any of these possibilities until I attempt them.

A major part of my personal piety is the belief that God only provides opportunities for us that we are capable of handling.  Were I to be called back into the ordained ministry of the Church, I believe that God would give me the opportunity to succeed.  Likewise with the business opportunity.  And if I return to disabled status and have the disability benefits restored, then there is a part of me that would simply believe that this is a gift from God, a response to a very real need in my life.

But to see in each of those options the hand of God at work, and to pursue the opportunities that actually present themselves, requires courage.  The risks are real.  The fear is real.

But sometimes that is simply the way life is.

For my part, the thing I have resolved to do, more than anything else, is to consult with trusted friends and advisers.   I have promised my doctors that I will continue in  therapy so that they can help monitor my moods.

And in the end, I hope to muster up the courage to do what is right.  Surrendering to fear is not an option I would choose.

My "Burning Bush"

We have a Japanese Maple outside of our front door, right in front of where I sit on the porch.  I love that tree.  It's beautiful, well shaped, and has been thriving since we planted it.

I have often sat there on the porch, next to the tree, and thought about what God had in store for my life.  And I've often longed for a burning bush experience.  It would be easier to follow Jesus is he'd share more openly where we are going.  Sometimes I imagine that maple as my burning bush.  Its vibrant red leaves help.

This last winter I was deeply disappointed to discover that either the snow, or a moose, had caused a major split in the fork of one of the main branches.  Losing those two branches would have destroyed the shape of the tree, and eliminated about 1/3 of the foliage.  Desperate times require desperate measures.

Armed with my power screw driver, and a two and a half in screw, I decided to play the role of tree doctor.  Without the consent of my wife, who probably would not have agreed to my methods, I 'fixed' the tree.  The branches were bent up to their original position and the split was held together by the screw.  And then there was nothing to do but to sit back and wait for spring, to see what would come of my beloved tree.

The wound has apparently healed.  There were no dead branches.  The foliage is more beautiful than ever.  And perhaps, in that, my burning bush had a message for me.

Whether it is wishful thinking on my part, or the conclusion of thoughtful and thorough discernment, more and more I've come to the conviction that it is time to move forward with my life. I'm exploring the possibility of serving as a pastor again.  There are business opportunities as well that may come to fruition.  Still waiting for my "tree" to spell that out for me.  A little hint like "Pastor Dave" or "OlsonsWoodWorks" would help.  Or perhaps both.

What I am inspired by my tree to believe, is that beauty is possible even when a major injury, a wound, has occurred.  Healing happens.  It may take a well placed screw to hold everything together, but healing can and does happen.

What do I hope for?  Perhaps more than anything else, I hope to rediscover a meaning and purpose to my life.  Like the tree which remained dormant for a few months after my repairing it, I have spent time where my primary focus has been on my own healing.  Now, it is as though the buds are on the branches, and springtime is here, and the only question remaining is to what extent the healing has been completed.  Will the leaves unfold?  Or will there be entire branches that need to be cut off?

What do I hope for?  If I could chart my own course, I think it would look like this:  That I could combine my love for ministry with my passion for woodworking and do both.  Perhaps a part-time call combined with continued work in my shop.  A tent maker ministry.

That seems best to me.  But my 'burning bush' has not yet spoken to that.  What I do believe is that when the time is right, the opportunities will present themselves.  And I will sit on my front porch, in front of that burning bush, perhaps even removing my shoes, and celebrate.

Bipolar or Not, that is the question.

There are two strains of thought in the mental health profession.  As with many other conditions as well, some doctors are quick to diagnose bipolar, some are hesitant.  My psychologist is one who is hesitant to make that diagnosis.  Or to put it differently, he has to personally witness a significant manic or hypo-manic state to confirm the diagnosis.  He has no problem with the depression side of my diagnosis, as he has seen that a plenty.  One of the reasons he has not seen the manic side of my personality is that the last time I was in one, I backed away from counseling because I was doing so 'well'.  That was the time I resigned my call, established my business, cashed in a significant portion of my pensions, bought a CNC router, enlisted my son to join me in the business, and in doing so exhibited by my own count, 5 of the 7 defining symptoms of a manic phase of bipolar disorder.

Both my current, and previous psychiatrist fall into the camp of being willing to make the bipolar diagnosis more freely.  One of the signs that they use is the degree to which depression responds to anti-depressants.  Turns out that normal depressions most often respond well to anti-depressant therapy, while bipolar depressions do not.  Bipolar depression, on the other hand, responds to mood stabilizers, not anti-depressants.

The psychologist that is reviewing my case for disability falls into the camp of being very hesitant to offer the bipolar diagnosis.  That may affect the outcome of my appeal, only time will tell.

I have a backwards attitude toward the diagnosis.  Rather than confirming the diagnosis, and then prescribing treatment, we tried a different approach.  Treating the depression 'as depression' wasn't working, and so I asked my doctor if my recurring bouts with depression could actually be bipolar.  She agreed that was possible.  I was currently taking Lamictal to control the seizures I was having.  It is an anti-seizure medication that is also a mood stabilizer used to treat bipolar disorder.  What was decided was to increase the dosage to a therapeutic level for bipolar disorder and see what happened.  Turns out that was the one thing that improved my situation.  In essence, we prescribed the treatment, and then, based on its success determined that the diagnosis was correct.

In contrast to some of the opinions to the contrary, I am personally convinced of the correctness of my diagnosis.  One of my reasons for being even more convinced than any of my medical team is that I am deeply aware of my inner thought patterns.  These go way beyond what is actually manifested in specific behaviors.

So, for example, when I set out to develop Luther Park and the Beacon at Southridge, there were the actual behaviors, and also the underlying scheme and grandiose thinking that went far beyond.  I was successful in the first case, Luther Park is an 87 unit senior housing ministry that is doing fine.  I failed to pull off developing the Beacon (a 225 unit senior housing community) in part because of the economy, but also in part because it proved to be beyond the scope of what was possible.  What was lost in the process was that in my vision, these two projects were just the first two steps of a major plan that would totally transform the church, not only in this country, but also with an international impact as well.  The vision that I had was so ambitious, that I didn't share it with others.  It would be better, to reveal it one step at a time.  No one would buy in, if they saw the whole deal. . .

The bottom line is that left untreated my  mood swings are way beyond the norm, and have been getting progressively worse.  With treatment, they have  moderated and would be, by most observers, be seen as within the parameters of what is normal.

One of my great-uncle's favorite jokes was about a man who was out in his yard spreading salt on his lawn.  His neighbor sees what he is doing, and asks him why in the world he would do that as it will kill the lawn.  "To keep the elephants away."  was the response.  "There aren't any elephants here!" his neighbor replied.  And the man said simply --  "It figures."

I'm being treated with Lamictal to keep the bipolar symptoms away.  "But you don't have any symptoms of mania!"  "It figures."

A Crossroad

"What other people think about you is none of your business."

AA is full of pearls of wisdom.  This is one of them.  Except I don't always agree.  What other people think about you, about me, can have a significant impact on the direction of one's life.  Opportunities are sometimes contingent on other's opinions of one's capabilities and character.  There is no getting around that.

I'm at a crossroad in my life.  I'm faced with three choices that will determine the direction of my life.  But each of those three choices will only be an option based on the assessment of other people.  I am not in charge of my own destiny.

"Lets consider three options: First, that you win the appeal for disability benefits and qualify for continuation of coverage;  second, that its determined that you can return to pastoral ministry and have that opportunity;  and third, that this business opportunity (selling 15 dining sets to clients in Vietnam, as written about in my last blog) comes through.  Which would you choose?"  (My psychologist asked me this, yesterday.)

Its not an easy choice.  If I win the appeal for disability benefits, it will be because it is determined that I am simply not capable of continuing to do what at one point was second nature to me.  "I...just....can't.....do.......it...........anymore." are words that are hard to say.  I reflect on those days when I couldn't even find the motivation to shower, when depression would chain me to the couch, or when mania would drive me forward on numerous different schemes and plans.  My psychologist had me read the letter that documented his conversation with the doctor hired by the disability plan to evaluate my claim.  "Disheveled", really?  The overall assessment was convincing to me, and a bit depressing.  But a bit of the fighter in me came out.  "I can do anything I set me mind too, I'm in a much better place than I was, you're not giving me enough credit, I have 'no cognitive nor physical impairment'.  "I disagree." was his response, particularly with respect to how depression affects my cognitive functioning.  Ouch!

And then we talked about the business opportunity.  15 dining sets, at a price of $55,000 per set.  $825,000 gross.  But major challenges such as expanding my business to include numerous employees, getting the financial backing, figuring out how to safely ship hardwood furniture from the relatively dry inland Northwest, to the high humidity of Vietnam without the whole works self destructing because of the humidity change.  Etc., Etc,.  "I'm very concerned that accepting this job would result in a manic episode."  "Actually, I'd be more capable of pulling it off if I was in a manic state!"  Interesting conversation.

I shared with him the possibility of serving as an interim pastor in a small congregation.  He was much more comfortable with that, than my embarking on a bold new business adventure.  His biggest concern about my re-entering parish ministry has to do with potentially high stress situations.  Caring for a relatively small congregation, without the possibility of taking on challenges like building senior housing, etc., he thought was "safe", and far preferable to the risk of falling into an 'ill advised business endeavor'.  Especially if I continue in treatment and am monitored with respect to my moods.

Sometimes we control our own destiny.  Most of the time we do not.

The appeal of the disability claim will be settled by someone else.  Perhaps even the judicial system.

Whether I can move forward with the business opportunity depends on numerous decisions by other people, not the least of which are the clients, but also others like bankers, landlords, employees, . . . not to mention my wife and family.  Huge risks involved.

My bishop, an independent psychologist's evaluation, and a congregation's call.  Decisions will have to be made with respect to my returning to parish ministry, and most of them will be made by others.

And then there is the opportunity that none of these materialize.   That somewhere there is a fourth option.  Or maybe, my current status IS the fourth option.

The single greatest casualty of this disease is my own ability to discern and decide.  While I may or may not be disabled, I have certainly become more dependent on others.  Ironically, the recognition of these limitations and being willing to defer to the judgement of others may in fact be the single most significant indication that some degree of health and well being has returned.