Men's Gathering

I went to a Narcotics Anonymous men's retreat last weekend.  It was amazing.  The weekend consisted of a beautiful location, lots of great food, and a fireside speaker meeting.  There weren't dozens of workshops and meetings to go to.  Just a chance to spend time with other men who are on a spiritual path.  I had the opportunity to play guitar with a friend.  Had the opportunity to stay up until three talking with another man. 

So what's the take away?  Spending a weekend in the woods with a bunch of guys, many of whom were tough ex-cons, all of whom were ex-drug addicts.  The value of the experience lay in taking time to learn to love and accept love from other men.  Something our society doesn't value and certainly present many opportunities to practice.

I had a great weekend.  I came home refreshed and excited to resume my life as a family man and a small farmer.

Teaching

An unexpected rush of feelings has sent me into a tailspin for the last couple of days.  The first bout of depression I've had all summer. 

I put on a suit and tie and went looking for some tutoring work at the local school districts.  I thought I might just introduce myself to the special education teachers and drop off my business card.  Somehow I ended up meeting the superintendent who practically begged me to get on the substitute teacher list and get my name known around the district.  Maybe it was the suit and tie.  Maybe it was being asked.  Maybe it was the feeling having my services being needed in a district again.

I was a good teacher.  A lot of the time I was a great teacher.  For many years I felt as if teaching was my "calling".  Problem was, near the end I just couldn't show up. Sometimes it was just short term bipolar symptoms that knocked me out for a day or two.  Sometimes it was a more significant episode that took me out of a week or month long medical leave of absence.  I couldn't keep doing that.  It wasn't fair to the students, the district, or myself.

It took me a few hours, but eventually I realized that I just couldn't get back in the game.  I thought I had accepted my bipolar disorder and most of the time I have.  I thought I had accepted my disability diagnosis.  Maybe it was that we could really use the money right now.  Maybe it was the ever present societal pressure for men to work and provide.  Whatever it was it knocked me out of commission.

I just couldn't accept that I wasn't going back to teaching.  I'm out of that game.  I thought I'd been through all of that years ago. 

A couple of things snapped me back into focus.  My wife and I spoke about what I am really "called" to today.  It's not playing superhero as a public school special education teacher.  It's not bringing down the salary.  I think, or rather she thought, that it was something else.  It's raising these kids.  It's taking care of these animals on the farm.  It's volunteering.  And maybe it's carrying the message of Narcotics Anonymous to the still suffering addict and alcoholic.

And as for the finances, well, it was pointed out my a fellow NA member that I really have what's called "luxury problems."  My car may be a piece of crap, but hey at least I have a car.  It's paid for.  It runs.  I have a driver's license today.  And I even have a full tank of gas.  Yes, I have a lot to be grateful for.  I am truly blessed.

Meaningful Work

My family and I went to a fundraiser for a local school that serves children with psychiatric diagnoses.  The benefit was fun and the food was great.  Watching the presentation about the school, however, made me feel nostalgic about teaching special education.  As I've mentioned before, I no longer teach.  I am currently on Social Security Disability.  My teaching licenses are still valid though and sometimes I miss teaching.  Being that special teacher that can reach tough to teach kids.  My specialty, over the years, was working with the toughest of the tough.  Severe emotionally and behaviorally challenged youth.  I've worked in juvenile corrections, locked psych wards, and treatment centers for adjudicated teens.  Anyway, part of me misses it.

One of the facets of working with teens that was so rewarding is that it was always clear that I was doing Meaningful Work.  What I did mattered.  What I did made a difference.

Since I've left teaching, I haven't had the same sense that what I am doing is somehow of service to my society and to my community.  I still need that connection to meaningful work though.  I've had to re-think what it means to be meaningfully engaged in the lives of those around me.

On one level there is my family and my farm.  I am a husband and a father.  I am raising four boys, homeschooling them, and mentoring them.  That is certainly meaningful work.  I also care for my animals.  That involves meaningful work.  Feeding, milking, and caring for the animals.  As part of the "feeding" of the animals we moved 16+ tons of hay this summer.  That was most certainly a lot of work.  It's been three weeks since we finished and my arms still hurt.

But how can I make that connection to being meaningfully engaged in my community if I am no longer playing super-hero as a special education teacher?  The answer to that, for me, lies in something I mentioned in last nights blog post.  I carry a message of recovery from active addiction and from bipolar disorder into the wider community.  A message of hope and a promise of freedom.  Lord knows I'm no super-hero at that either, but it is through the service of carrying the message that I am able to be of service to my community.  Today that is my meaningful work.  Whether I am volunteering to share on an informational panel at a local treatment center, participating in a local Narcotics Anonymous meeting, answering the phone when someone calls for help, or writing this blog, I am engaged in meaningful work in my community.

Tonight's presentation on the therapeutic day school made me nostalgic about teaching, but I don't think I'm going to jump into contracted teaching again just yet.  I think I might seek out a volunteer opportunity though.  Maybe I could be a volunteer tutor in a local literacy program.  I could probably manage a couple hours a week doing that.

Caffeine...and now tobacco

I didn't really ever plan on quitting tobacco.  I love tobacco.  I love growing it, chewing it, smoking fine cigars.  Then we hit a financial wall and decided that tobacco just wasn't in the budget.  Just like that I quit cold turkey.  Of course it didn't turn out to be that simple.  Just when I was thinking, "gee, this isn't all that hard", I took the change jar and bought two tins of Copenhagen.  I thought it would be fun to chew tobacco, drink iced tea, and stay up all night watching a movie.  Wrong on all counts.

On the plus side, I've been really regular about taking my medication.  I've been fairly symptom free as far as the bipolar goes.  Still on the plus side I've been sober off of alcohol and other drugs. 

I carried a meeting into a treatment facility the other night.  It was a really rewarding experience.  I don't think the clients at the treatment center were there voluntarily, but some of them seemed interested in our message of hope.  The promise of freedom from active addiction.

Well short entry, but that's it for tonight.