Disability

I've talked with a number of people who are disabled either physically or mentally.  Part of a definition of being disabled is that you can't do the things that others are "able" to do.  In my case, I slowly lost the ability to do the things I used to be able to do.  Part of accepting my  mental illness has been accepting that I am not able to do everything I'd like to do.  In some cases, I am not able to do things I used to love to do.

The most obvious example in my life is the end of my career as a teacher. I taught for almost twenty years.  I have a Masters degree in teaching and am still certified to teach.  I loved teaching.  I feel an incredible sense of loss that I am no longer able to teach.  At least not in a public school classroom.  It's really been a number of years since I was really consistently excellent as a classroom teacher.  I continued to try to teach, but I had become less and less able to show up to work on a consistent basis.  I was still a pretty good teacher when I was there, but I was taking more and more medical leaves of absence until it finally became clear that I couldn't do a good job.

I'm sure the sense of loss that I feel is the same for anyone who loses the ability to do something the love to do.  I used to be a great teacher...twenty years ago.  I continued to be a great teacher for quite a few years.  I loved teaching.  I loved working with kids.  Making a difference in their lives.  Helping them learn to read and write the English language.  I loved writing and literature.

Later I became a special education teacher and was great at that too.  I found special education to be an extremely rewarding field.  Helping kids achieve things they never thought they'd succeed at.  Helping kids overcome their own disabilities.  I guess I had an inkling that I would someday become too disabled to continue as a teacher.  I knew I had occasional depressions.  I knew I had an abnormal relationship with alcohol.  But I didn't then know that manic depression and alcoholism would turn on me like a boomerang and cut me to ribbons.  I didn't want my teaching career to end this way.

I'm sure we all have things that we love that we can no longer do.  After all, we all are getting a little bit older every year and can't physically do the things we used to do when were in our twenties.   I have lost so much as a result of bi-polar disorder and alcoholism.  I feel robbed.  I didn't ask to be this way.  It just happened. 

On the other hand, I have been blessed in so many ways by my experiences with mental illness and addiction.  Having learned to live with both conditions and come out the other side, I have a lot of healing experience to share with others.  I don't know if the rumors are true about the creative energies of those with bipolar. (See "Touched With Fire" by Kay Jamison)  But I know that in my case I have experienced times when I felt incredible bursts of creativity.  My life and lifestyle have been marked by times of spontaneity and daring.  Hypomania can be exhilarating, until it turns on me and I inevitably crash and burn.

Would I trade my life for one that was not marred (or blessed) by mental illness and addiction?  Not a chance.  It is a part of who I am.  And I'm pretty happy with who I am.