Relapse and Recovery

I relapsed.  On alcohol.  With all its catastrophic consequences.  I almost lost my family and next time, if there is a next time, I will.  I suppose there are a million excuses I might give for why I relapsed, but the honest truth is that I just like to get high.  Problem is, I don't like the consequences.  Among other problems, there is the fact that once I start it is almost impossible for me to stop. 

I made several obvious mistakes leading up to the relapse.  I stopped going to meetings, I isolated myself from friends, I isolated myself from my wife and family, I stopped praying.

Luckily I only drank for four days or so.  On the last day, I sat in the cheapest motel in town, glass in hand, and prayed.  In addition to praying, I had also talked to my psychiatrist and my wife.  I had reached out for help.  I dumped out the booze.

In short order, after I had stopped, there was a whirlwind of Positive activity.  I went to a meeting and admitted that I had relapsed.  I got out of the motel and into a basement apartment in the home of some members of my church.  I went to a meeting with my wife, my psychiatrist, and a couples counselor.  I jumped back into recovery with renewed vigor.  I jumped into my relationship with my wife with renewed vigor.  And I ramped up the therapy with my psychiatrist.

Interestingly, this whole mess has produced a renewed closeness with my wife.  We are planning to renew our wedding vows.  With a twist.  One of those vows will be that if I drink again, it will mean the end of our marriage.  Our new vows will be a definition of what each of us will be bringing to the table, and of what each of us expects the other to bring to the table.

I am filled with gratitude.  Not for having drank.  But for the unexpected shakeup in my life and marriage.  I am feeling a deep sense of joy and gratitude because I am still alive and that I get another chance to stay that way.

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.