Seems appropriate that I sit here to write this post on Friday the 13th, as that seems to be the day that best represents me. Yet another rejection letter from a potential employer arrived today. "We had numerous qualified candidates apply for the position. You are not one of them. Good luck at Sam's Club!" When will I ever learn to stop getting my hopes up?
I went back to school, spent a lot of money, time and effort to improve myself and get an advanced degree. Now, after having gotten the degree, I find myself further behind than I was before. No job and more debt. Lovely. What is my problem? I will be 45 in a couple of weeks and am going to start a part-time, entry-level job with no future. I fried my brain trying to be a pastor and can not return to that field, no matter what. Yet, it seems to be the only kind of work for which I am considered qualified.
I face the specter of spending the rest of my life in menial, barely-better-than-minimum-wage jobs and watching my wife work herself to death to support us. How do I face her...not just now, but twenty years from now? How can I handle knowing my kids will have to fend for themselves because their dad just isn't capable of earning a living? My oldest is already in over her head because I am not able to help her get through college, which every parent is supposed to do and supposed to be capable of doing.
My parents and my wife tell me that I am not what I see myself as. How can they not see the truth after all these years? Their investment in me seems to blind them to the reality of the situation. I offer nothing of value to this world. I hate myself and the mess I am making of the lives of those about whom I care deeply. I am so sorry to have dragged my family into this mess. I wish they could get a mulligan.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
A Break in the Clouds
Well, despite all my anxiety and depression, it has been a pretty good week. Last Tuesday I received a letter of eligibility to begin looking for teaching jobs in Colorado schools. While there aren't exactly a ton of openings in October, I have until January to find a job and gain entry into the Teacher in Residence Program. Then we had our church retreat and it was a really good time. At the end of the retreat, Cole and I were invited to go to the Broncos/Patriots game with a new friend from our church. We had such a great time and I will always cherish the opportunity to go to my first pro football game with my son. The look on his face throughout the game was priceless. Then today I had a meeting/interview and was added to the substitute teacher at a local charter school. So I am getting into the process and figuring out how to go for the jobs that are available. And that is a really good first step. I have miles to go before I am healthy and back on my feet but at least I am making some progress.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Halfway Through and Already Finished
For most of my life my parents, my teachers, my friends, my wife have been telling me I have a lot to offer, that I bring many skills to the game, that I am filled with potential. I am now 44 and am resigned to the fact that they are all wrong. I am halfway through a race in which I have no chance at winning. Well, probably more than halfway as I don't see any way that I live to 88, but you get my meaning. There is no way I will ever make a living, provide for my family, or make a lasting and positive impact on anyone or anything. I am, to borrow a phrase from my brother-in-law, a waste of skin.
I have applied for numerous jobs in the past few months. Not only do I not get the jobs, nor the interviews, I don't even get the letter, the call or the email telling me that I didn't get the job. I have tried getting hired doing jobs that require no education like working in a bookstore or opening the door and admitting people at the YMCA and still get no response. I guess that is common in today's economy so if that were the only problem, I might be able to handle it. But because I feel the need to do something, to get out of the house and be productive somehow, I put out some feelers for doing volunteer work...and was REJECTED! Yes, that is correct folks: I am not even qualified to volunteer.
So I am middle aged, unskilled and undesirable. I am a burden on my wife, my kids, my parents, the friends I have left and there is nothing to indicate that it is ever going to get better.
I have applied for numerous jobs in the past few months. Not only do I not get the jobs, nor the interviews, I don't even get the letter, the call or the email telling me that I didn't get the job. I have tried getting hired doing jobs that require no education like working in a bookstore or opening the door and admitting people at the YMCA and still get no response. I guess that is common in today's economy so if that were the only problem, I might be able to handle it. But because I feel the need to do something, to get out of the house and be productive somehow, I put out some feelers for doing volunteer work...and was REJECTED! Yes, that is correct folks: I am not even qualified to volunteer.
So I am middle aged, unskilled and undesirable. I am a burden on my wife, my kids, my parents, the friends I have left and there is nothing to indicate that it is ever going to get better.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Paging Dr. House
SPOILER ALERT!!
I watched the two-hour season premiere of House last night, in which our anti-hero was locked up in an asylum trying to get himself together. It was an episode that hit really close to home. Not so much while he was institutionalized, as House did everything he could to sabotage himself and others, but more when he was leaving. There is a moment of hesitation when the camera shot is close-up on House's face. There is fear and uncertainty there. That is what hit me. Dealing with the first obvious symptoms of mental health issues--for me it was the first anxiety attack--is terrifying. Going through a mental disorder like depression and general anxiety is overwhelming and lonely. However, the prospect of being declared "well" and being sent back into the world to try to work and function is as scary as hell itself. Failure to handle one's problems at home alone is embarrassing enough, but what happens if the meltdowns occur again while working? What if I can't make it in the real world and end up a mental and emotional invalid, burdening my wife, my kids and our families until the day I die? What if there really is no "well," and this is who I am. Will the pressures of life reveal that more vividly when I try to go back to "normal"?
I find myself torn between my desire to overcome my fears and face down my demons and the enticing desire to hide in my house, to find some sort of work that isolates me and allows me to work from the computer in my recliner. Like House, I peer out at the future and its possibilities and I have a glimmer of hope wrapped up in a cloud of anxiety. What's next? I only wish I knew.
I watched the two-hour season premiere of House last night, in which our anti-hero was locked up in an asylum trying to get himself together. It was an episode that hit really close to home. Not so much while he was institutionalized, as House did everything he could to sabotage himself and others, but more when he was leaving. There is a moment of hesitation when the camera shot is close-up on House's face. There is fear and uncertainty there. That is what hit me. Dealing with the first obvious symptoms of mental health issues--for me it was the first anxiety attack--is terrifying. Going through a mental disorder like depression and general anxiety is overwhelming and lonely. However, the prospect of being declared "well" and being sent back into the world to try to work and function is as scary as hell itself. Failure to handle one's problems at home alone is embarrassing enough, but what happens if the meltdowns occur again while working? What if I can't make it in the real world and end up a mental and emotional invalid, burdening my wife, my kids and our families until the day I die? What if there really is no "well," and this is who I am. Will the pressures of life reveal that more vividly when I try to go back to "normal"?
I find myself torn between my desire to overcome my fears and face down my demons and the enticing desire to hide in my house, to find some sort of work that isolates me and allows me to work from the computer in my recliner. Like House, I peer out at the future and its possibilities and I have a glimmer of hope wrapped up in a cloud of anxiety. What's next? I only wish I knew.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Done and Doing
I'm about ten days out from having successfully defended my Master's thesis. I honestly did not think it would ever happen as I was pretty sure if I ever finished the text there was no way they would ever approve it. But I passed, and it was really a lot of fun. The defense with my committee was encouraging and invigorating--I really enjoyed the meeting. Go figure.
So, now I'm home in Colorado (wow, that never gets old!) and trying to discern the next step in the journey of the rest of my life. Here is what I know: I haven't got a bloody clue!!!! I really want to teach, but am unsure as to the best path toward teaching. College? That would be fantastic but at the moment seems unrealistic since there aren't a lot of communication courses offered in the area community colleges. High school? I could live with that but will have to do some extra steps to get there and am not sure how long that will take. Non-profit? I have applied to some and am supposedly still a candidate for one position but it doesn't energize me like teaching does. I just don't feel any closer to an answer than I was a year ago or two years ago. And the beat goes on.
On the church front, we have settled--at least for a season--at Mountain Community Mennonite Church in Palmer Lake. Way outside my realm of experience but it really meshes with where I am internally at this point in my life. I can be present with the group without serious chest pain and anxiety attacks which is a huge bonus. The kids enjoy it and Carol is working to figure out her feelings about it. My friend Art, back in Minnesota, wanted me to convert the church where I was pastor to a "peace church," and I let him know that was not possible. Now, however, I am a part of a peace church that is focused like a laser beam on reconciliation.
I think the most difficult thing in life right now (outside of having no money and no prospects) is the realization that people see me as broken or that they don't understand why I can't just "snap out of it" and get on with life: Finish the thesis! Get a job! Act like an adult! Man up! And to them I say, "I wish it was that easy." I don't understand why I get paralyzed and afraid. I don't know how to get beyond the anxiety and move forward with my life. I really wish I did. Still, there is a level of shame when I have to face those to whom I am intricately connected and know that they think I am dogging it and that I could do better if I would just try. Believe me, I'm trying. Sometimes the trying just about kills me. Maybe a time is coming when it gets better--in fact, right now may be better than a while back was--but I can't predict it and I'm not sure I can control it. Sorry.
So I continue to plod forward with the occasional--or maybe regular--detour. I'm terrified but holding onto a glimmer of hope that better times are ahead. It is the best I have to offer right now.
So, now I'm home in Colorado (wow, that never gets old!) and trying to discern the next step in the journey of the rest of my life. Here is what I know: I haven't got a bloody clue!!!! I really want to teach, but am unsure as to the best path toward teaching. College? That would be fantastic but at the moment seems unrealistic since there aren't a lot of communication courses offered in the area community colleges. High school? I could live with that but will have to do some extra steps to get there and am not sure how long that will take. Non-profit? I have applied to some and am supposedly still a candidate for one position but it doesn't energize me like teaching does. I just don't feel any closer to an answer than I was a year ago or two years ago. And the beat goes on.
On the church front, we have settled--at least for a season--at Mountain Community Mennonite Church in Palmer Lake. Way outside my realm of experience but it really meshes with where I am internally at this point in my life. I can be present with the group without serious chest pain and anxiety attacks which is a huge bonus. The kids enjoy it and Carol is working to figure out her feelings about it. My friend Art, back in Minnesota, wanted me to convert the church where I was pastor to a "peace church," and I let him know that was not possible. Now, however, I am a part of a peace church that is focused like a laser beam on reconciliation.
I think the most difficult thing in life right now (outside of having no money and no prospects) is the realization that people see me as broken or that they don't understand why I can't just "snap out of it" and get on with life: Finish the thesis! Get a job! Act like an adult! Man up! And to them I say, "I wish it was that easy." I don't understand why I get paralyzed and afraid. I don't know how to get beyond the anxiety and move forward with my life. I really wish I did. Still, there is a level of shame when I have to face those to whom I am intricately connected and know that they think I am dogging it and that I could do better if I would just try. Believe me, I'm trying. Sometimes the trying just about kills me. Maybe a time is coming when it gets better--in fact, right now may be better than a while back was--but I can't predict it and I'm not sure I can control it. Sorry.
So I continue to plod forward with the occasional--or maybe regular--detour. I'm terrified but holding onto a glimmer of hope that better times are ahead. It is the best I have to offer right now.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Unpacking and Repacking
I pretty much took the summer off from the old blog. I felt guilty about writing here when it was such a struggle to write on my thesis. Now the writing part of the thesis is done and I am just editing while I wait to defend. So I thought I would put something up here today to get back in the habit.
My daughter Aimee is a wonder. She is encouraging and caring. She never lacks for friends, as people just love to be around her. I am amazed at the beautiful person she is. One little quirk she has is that when she needs to clean her room, she can't just straighten things up. She has to take everything out and pile it in the middle of the floor and kind of reassemble the whole thing. I think I am long overdue to learn a lesson from her.
My life is a lot like Aimee's room. Lots of clutter as I collect junk and can't seem to let things go. When I really need something, I dig around inside and usually can't find it. So, I'm trying to deal with the stresses of life, be they large or small, and I just simply can't find the resources. In fact, I can't even seem to find the mental or emotional floor, there is so much clutter.
I think it is time for me to take everything out and start over, reassembling the whole room. Not only do I not know how to deal with the stresses of life, I can't even figure out who I am or what I stand for. I'm 44 years old, grew up in a Christian home, have been a pastor, and quite frankly, I'm not even sure what I believe about God these days. A while back, Greg Boyd talked to me about how he came to a point where he had to take a season and sort out everything he had always believed about God and decide what to keep and what to discard until he got to the essential core. It was at that point that he found some level of liberation. I think I have come to that place in my life.
For the past couple of years, through two therapists and a psychiatrist who have pushed me to do hard business with God, I have managed to keep the issue pushed below the surface but it simply cannot continue this way. I have to go home and find a way to figure out who God is and where I stand before him. It won't wait and I won't get better until it happens.
My daughter Aimee is a wonder. She is encouraging and caring. She never lacks for friends, as people just love to be around her. I am amazed at the beautiful person she is. One little quirk she has is that when she needs to clean her room, she can't just straighten things up. She has to take everything out and pile it in the middle of the floor and kind of reassemble the whole thing. I think I am long overdue to learn a lesson from her.
My life is a lot like Aimee's room. Lots of clutter as I collect junk and can't seem to let things go. When I really need something, I dig around inside and usually can't find it. So, I'm trying to deal with the stresses of life, be they large or small, and I just simply can't find the resources. In fact, I can't even seem to find the mental or emotional floor, there is so much clutter.
I think it is time for me to take everything out and start over, reassembling the whole room. Not only do I not know how to deal with the stresses of life, I can't even figure out who I am or what I stand for. I'm 44 years old, grew up in a Christian home, have been a pastor, and quite frankly, I'm not even sure what I believe about God these days. A while back, Greg Boyd talked to me about how he came to a point where he had to take a season and sort out everything he had always believed about God and decide what to keep and what to discard until he got to the essential core. It was at that point that he found some level of liberation. I think I have come to that place in my life.
For the past couple of years, through two therapists and a psychiatrist who have pushed me to do hard business with God, I have managed to keep the issue pushed below the surface but it simply cannot continue this way. I have to go home and find a way to figure out who God is and where I stand before him. It won't wait and I won't get better until it happens.
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Saying Goodbye to a Home that Wasn't Supposed to Be Home
It's Saturday morning and I am sitting in my favorite Caribou, professing to do some work but really just trying to center my mind. It has been a full week, and this is my last Saturday as a resident of Minnesota. I am looking forward to the going home element of this move to Colorado, but have to admit that the leaving is much more difficult than I expected. There have been numerous opportunities to reinforce this strange separation anxiety this week.
First, the kids. Cole and Aimee are struggling so much with leaving the friends they have made here. Even now, Cole and Logan are running around St. Anthony somewhere (they said they were going to Walgreen's) and treasuring this last week together before we move. They are one day apart in age and have been like brothers since we first moved to Minnesota four years ago. As much as two 11 year old boys can, they genuinely love each other. You don't get those friends every day nor in every locale.
Aimee is away at her last youth retreat/activity with her Echo group from Woodland Hills Church. She makes friends easily, but I don't think she has ever had a group of friends who feed her soul like the ones she made this year at WHC. I don't know how much she will miss her small group and youth leaders (I think a lot) but I know I am having difficulty with pulling her away from this. She also has a great group of friends at school here, and one of those friends is having serious struggles with Aimee's departure. So much so that her mom is willing to help pay for a plane ticket to bring Aimee back for a week later this summer. I know Aimee and I have no doubts that she will have a whole crew of friends pretty quickly after school starts this Fall, but her story illustrates to me how many tentacles these decisions we make as parents end up having. And while I really hope to spend the rest of my life in Colorado, the timing is not as ideal as it seemed eight weeks ago.
Emilee, on the other hand, will stay and make her way in life in Minnesota. While this is probably the right thing for her, the idea of leaving her behind is difficult for us and for her. She is the girl who was going to be independent, out on her own, out of our house pretty much from the time she was about 12 years old. Now that it is reality though, it is a lot tougher than expected. My girl, the one who is wired so much like me that it is almost frightening, will no longer be within earshot. She has her own place, her own job, her own friends, her own path, her own life. I will miss her like I would miss my heart if it were removed. I am sure she has made a good decision and I support her and am proud of her. Still does not make it easy to leave. I know you read this from time to time Em, and I don't want you to feel sad or guilty when you do. I want you to know that my heart aches, but it is the ache of every father whose children have to grow up and go their own way. It is the right thing, but it is not an easy thing.
As for me, this place and this season of life have kind of grown on me. I love the Twin Cities. What other metro area has the kind of natural beauty within the city limits that Minneapolis and Saint Paul do? Lakes, trees, a mildly rolling terrain: you don't have to go away to live in wonder. Add to that an amazing diversity of people from Asia, Africa, and yes, even Europe, and it is quite simply an incredible place to live. Part of the beauty of the Twin Cities chapter of my life has been Woodland Hills Church. I love the people, I love the openness to new and different, I love the diversity, I love being a part of the Woodland Hills family. I will miss it and not entirely sure I can ever find a place like it, which makes it really tough to leave.
I will miss people. My old friends (Russ, Ken) and my once-in-a-while friends (Greg, Efrem, Marque), my cohort friends (Jenny, Chibs, Andrea, Erin, Deb) and my hang out when we can friends (Jeremy, Derek, Tahna). I will miss Jason and Lisa and those three beautiful kids. I would love to be closer to watch Ana grow up and become president of this or some other country (it is inevitable, I think...even if we have to change the Constitution). I will desperately miss the two friends who have walked with me through this rough stretch of life, Brent and Todd. Brent, if you could know how much your calls and encouragement saved my life when this fight with depression and anxiety began, you might be surprised to know that you are a superhero. And Todd, it seems like we were just getting started. I love your knowledge and your incredibly twisted sense of humor. I love your family and the times we have spent together. I love that we can both be about 13 years old together for significant stretches of time and it is perfectly cool. I am so happy for your new job adventure. I just wish it were in Colorado.
I will deeply miss Leta, my advisor and much more. She has loved on me through the frustration of not being able to write. She hasn't yet killed me, but she might before we are done! And I will miss Phil. My friend, you have become the human face of a loving heavenly Father to me. I don't know if I can fully explain it, so I will just let it stand alone. You are grace personified. Not perfection or deification, just good, broken grace. Thanks for walking the journey with me.
The capper to all this reminiscing is the picture that remains from our block. Our neighbors--next door and across the street--are wonderful Tibetan people. On Thursday night, before Carol was leaving on Friday, about 10:30 the doorbell rang. It was the younger woman and her mother dropping in to say goodbye to Carol. About twenty minutes later, the bell rang again. It was the grandmother--the one who doesn't speak English but has been one of the kindest and friendliest neighbors you could ever hope to have--and "big Tenzen" (a lot of Tenzens, this is the one who graduated 8th grade with Aimee last week) coming over to say goodbye to my wife. This little lady with the warm smile brought a scarf/shawl over and draped it around Carol's neck and over her shoulders and through her grandson told us it was a Tibetan tradition that means "good luck." She has one like it and will think of Carol when she wears it. It was a gift of love and affection, one that came with and produced tears. It is so tough to leave these wonderful neighbors. The grandmother was holding Carol's hand the other day and saying "sorry" over and over, letting us know that she was sad we were leaving. Incredible. Then she and Tenzen stood in the front yard Friday morning, waving until we disappeared down the street on our way to the airport. More tears. In fact, kind of like the tears that keep coming to my eyes as I write this. I love these dear friends and will miss them more than they can possibly know.
This is long, too long for blogging, but it needed to be written. Hope you can indulge me a little as this parting is very sweet sorrow. Next Saturday morning, I will be headed from Holly to Colorado Springs to show Emilee and Jared the sights before taking them to Denver and the airport so they can get home for Father's Day (the first time that getting home doesn't mean returning to me). It will be good, eventually. It will not be easy.
Thanks God for Minnesota. I will miss this place.
First, the kids. Cole and Aimee are struggling so much with leaving the friends they have made here. Even now, Cole and Logan are running around St. Anthony somewhere (they said they were going to Walgreen's) and treasuring this last week together before we move. They are one day apart in age and have been like brothers since we first moved to Minnesota four years ago. As much as two 11 year old boys can, they genuinely love each other. You don't get those friends every day nor in every locale.
Aimee is away at her last youth retreat/activity with her Echo group from Woodland Hills Church. She makes friends easily, but I don't think she has ever had a group of friends who feed her soul like the ones she made this year at WHC. I don't know how much she will miss her small group and youth leaders (I think a lot) but I know I am having difficulty with pulling her away from this. She also has a great group of friends at school here, and one of those friends is having serious struggles with Aimee's departure. So much so that her mom is willing to help pay for a plane ticket to bring Aimee back for a week later this summer. I know Aimee and I have no doubts that she will have a whole crew of friends pretty quickly after school starts this Fall, but her story illustrates to me how many tentacles these decisions we make as parents end up having. And while I really hope to spend the rest of my life in Colorado, the timing is not as ideal as it seemed eight weeks ago.
Emilee, on the other hand, will stay and make her way in life in Minnesota. While this is probably the right thing for her, the idea of leaving her behind is difficult for us and for her. She is the girl who was going to be independent, out on her own, out of our house pretty much from the time she was about 12 years old. Now that it is reality though, it is a lot tougher than expected. My girl, the one who is wired so much like me that it is almost frightening, will no longer be within earshot. She has her own place, her own job, her own friends, her own path, her own life. I will miss her like I would miss my heart if it were removed. I am sure she has made a good decision and I support her and am proud of her. Still does not make it easy to leave. I know you read this from time to time Em, and I don't want you to feel sad or guilty when you do. I want you to know that my heart aches, but it is the ache of every father whose children have to grow up and go their own way. It is the right thing, but it is not an easy thing.
As for me, this place and this season of life have kind of grown on me. I love the Twin Cities. What other metro area has the kind of natural beauty within the city limits that Minneapolis and Saint Paul do? Lakes, trees, a mildly rolling terrain: you don't have to go away to live in wonder. Add to that an amazing diversity of people from Asia, Africa, and yes, even Europe, and it is quite simply an incredible place to live. Part of the beauty of the Twin Cities chapter of my life has been Woodland Hills Church. I love the people, I love the openness to new and different, I love the diversity, I love being a part of the Woodland Hills family. I will miss it and not entirely sure I can ever find a place like it, which makes it really tough to leave.
I will miss people. My old friends (Russ, Ken) and my once-in-a-while friends (Greg, Efrem, Marque), my cohort friends (Jenny, Chibs, Andrea, Erin, Deb) and my hang out when we can friends (Jeremy, Derek, Tahna). I will miss Jason and Lisa and those three beautiful kids. I would love to be closer to watch Ana grow up and become president of this or some other country (it is inevitable, I think...even if we have to change the Constitution). I will desperately miss the two friends who have walked with me through this rough stretch of life, Brent and Todd. Brent, if you could know how much your calls and encouragement saved my life when this fight with depression and anxiety began, you might be surprised to know that you are a superhero. And Todd, it seems like we were just getting started. I love your knowledge and your incredibly twisted sense of humor. I love your family and the times we have spent together. I love that we can both be about 13 years old together for significant stretches of time and it is perfectly cool. I am so happy for your new job adventure. I just wish it were in Colorado.
I will deeply miss Leta, my advisor and much more. She has loved on me through the frustration of not being able to write. She hasn't yet killed me, but she might before we are done! And I will miss Phil. My friend, you have become the human face of a loving heavenly Father to me. I don't know if I can fully explain it, so I will just let it stand alone. You are grace personified. Not perfection or deification, just good, broken grace. Thanks for walking the journey with me.
The capper to all this reminiscing is the picture that remains from our block. Our neighbors--next door and across the street--are wonderful Tibetan people. On Thursday night, before Carol was leaving on Friday, about 10:30 the doorbell rang. It was the younger woman and her mother dropping in to say goodbye to Carol. About twenty minutes later, the bell rang again. It was the grandmother--the one who doesn't speak English but has been one of the kindest and friendliest neighbors you could ever hope to have--and "big Tenzen" (a lot of Tenzens, this is the one who graduated 8th grade with Aimee last week) coming over to say goodbye to my wife. This little lady with the warm smile brought a scarf/shawl over and draped it around Carol's neck and over her shoulders and through her grandson told us it was a Tibetan tradition that means "good luck." She has one like it and will think of Carol when she wears it. It was a gift of love and affection, one that came with and produced tears. It is so tough to leave these wonderful neighbors. The grandmother was holding Carol's hand the other day and saying "sorry" over and over, letting us know that she was sad we were leaving. Incredible. Then she and Tenzen stood in the front yard Friday morning, waving until we disappeared down the street on our way to the airport. More tears. In fact, kind of like the tears that keep coming to my eyes as I write this. I love these dear friends and will miss them more than they can possibly know.
This is long, too long for blogging, but it needed to be written. Hope you can indulge me a little as this parting is very sweet sorrow. Next Saturday morning, I will be headed from Holly to Colorado Springs to show Emilee and Jared the sights before taking them to Denver and the airport so they can get home for Father's Day (the first time that getting home doesn't mean returning to me). It will be good, eventually. It will not be easy.
Thanks God for Minnesota. I will miss this place.
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