How can I help?

I read an amazing article called, "No one brings dinner when your daughter is an addict." by Larry M. Lake.  It's a tear jerker but definitely worth the read.  The general idea is that when someone gets sick with cancer, friends, family, and church communities show up to support the family.  The symbol of this is the dozens of church casseroles that show up in addition to all the cards and calls.  Unfortunately, usually no one shows up when a family member goes to a mental institution or gets locked up involuntarily in a alcohol rehabilitation facility.

I know, at least in my experience, that there was very little outside support for my wife and kids when I had troubles of this sort, although to be fair the pastor showed up at my hospital bed once when I was drunk and suicidal. 

I'm not trying to say that anybody's being mean or anything.  It's mostly that people haven't the faintest idea what to do or say.  We are not prepared, by our experience or education, to deal with mental illness in our immediate families or communities.  We are taught that addiction and mental illness are a family's "dirty laundry".  We are taught that we ought not talk about it in public.

OK, so assuming we are at a place where we can acknowledge that we don't have a clue, what can we say or do?

We can offer assistance to the family who has a loved one ill or hospitalized.  Card, calls, prayers, and, of course, casseroles.

We can ask the family if they care to talk about it.  One could say, "I understand that Russ is ill, but I don't understand mental illness.  Would you like to share with me what is going on?

We can confront our own fear and confusion about mental illness and addiction.  Get it out there.  In the light of day.  Out of the closet.

Brokenness

I've been contemplating the idea that we are all broken and that somehow, someday maybe we become whole.  Or maybe we never do.  This is certainly not a new idea.  It definitely fits in with my neo-Catholic world view. 

Maybe the first step in coming to accept that we are broken is to see that we are.  Some people limp along their whole lives thinking that they are OK and that this is as good as it gets.  There is no doubt that with my addiction I had to first see that I was addicted.  The same was true with mental illness.  For a lot of years I just didn't see the elephant in the living room.  I couldn't see that I was ill...seriously ill.  Then for a while longer I thought maybe I had a bad case of Seasonal Affective Disorder.  That seemed somehow better than coming to accept that I actually had bipolar disorder, which is really a nice way of saying MANIC DEPRESSION.  Even after I was diagnosed with bipolar, I really didn't accept what that meant.  Among other things it would mean that I would have to change my entire life around.  It meant that recovering from addiction and mental illness would become the two most important things in my life.

So how do we become whole?  First, we realize that we are broken.  Then, through a series of seemingly unrelated actions, we begin to heal.  It started with not taking that first drink or that first drug.  Then I started hanging out with some scruffy drug addicts in church basements who said they had an answer.  Then I started examining my life.  Then I came to believe that I had something I could offer others.  I could help others stay clean.  Somehow, this led me back to a connection to a God of my understanding.  Whether I prayed in church or on the trout stream I began to feel some kind of connection to something greater than myself.

The same is true of my journey through mental illness.  First I came to accept that I was A MANIC DEPRESSIVE.  When I accepted that, I was able to turn outward for help.  First to a doctor.  Then to medication.  Then to lifestyle changes.  Then to a God.  And somehow I came to believe that I could be of service to others again.  I could carry a message of hope, not just about recovery from addiction, but also about recovery from mental illness. 

Somehow  this combination of returning to a life of faith and hope, coupled with the sense that I can be of service, is leading me on a path towards wholeness. 

self-examination

"We examined our lives and discovered who we really are.  To be truly humble is to accept and honestly try to be ourselves...I can experience the freedom to be myself, the person my God intended me to be."
Just For Today

Accepting that I am an addict and always will be, accepting that I have bi-polar and always will has been a long process.  I was like going through the various stages of the grieving process as proposed by Elisabeth Kubler-Ross.  The steps are, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

I spent a lot of time in denial of both my addiction and my bi-polar disorder.  In some ways it's like peeling the skin of an onion.  I thought I had accepted my bi-polar disorder completely until I applied for Social Security Disability and realized that I may never work as a teacher again.  I had so much of my identity wrapped up in my teaching that it was really hard to admit to myself that the bipolar disorder was ending that career.  As for addiction, we all have heard about denial related to the acceptance of addiction, and I certainly went through that as well.

The long process of accepting myself and learning to love myself has been a journey I've been on my entire adult life.  When I say that I accept myself today and am free to be the person God intended me to be, it sounds like I've arrived at some cosmic, spiritual plateau.  This is certainly not the case.  I have a lot more to learn and accept about myself.  There are many things about  myself I'd like to work on and improve on. 

Learning to live a fulfilling life with bipolar involves learning to accept that it is a part of who I am.  I learn to accept the help of a psychiatrist.  I learn that I will be on medication for the rest of my life.  I learn that I have to structure my life in a way that minimizes episodes of bipolar symptoms.  It means accepting my limitations...and my strengths.

And there are strengths.  I am happy with who I am and the life I've led.  And that life has been born out of my personality as a recovering addict with bipolar disorder.  I've had some incredible adventures that have come as a result of my bipolar spontaneity.  I wouldn't trade it all for a life of...of what?...sanity?