I'm Ba...aa...ck

And time marches on, and on, and on. It is hard to keep up with blogging; no wonder there are so few hits. I swear to you that I will try harder, but lack of focus, attention do detail, and concentration are key elements to being a Bipolar sufferer. That is something that really pisses me off' people being afraid to be labeled as their disease. Come on, is it really necessary to pick a fight no matter where you go? I don't think so. So much effort to erase the stigma of mental illness is undertaken that the true purpose is lost. I know, just as you do, that we are not the illness. Get over it, and fight the fight.

I have had to get new docs and P'Docs, and that has been a delight. I have been able to hook up with some pretty great people. My meds have already been adjusted, and I might be going back in for a few sessions of ETC. My experience with previous sessions have been very positive, and I would welcome a few more jolts, if warranted.

More, and I do mean (hopefully) more ..............................................................................................

Mental Illness ... A "Never-Win" Situation

I have finally decided to face the fact that I will never get better. I've come face-to-face with this issue; I've stared it square in the face and ... I give. Now before you get on your great, big high horse, let me explain.

I'm not ready to swallow the barrel, or swing from the yardarm, or drink down the cyanide cocktail. Sure, I've thought about it, and I can't say I never will ... who knows what the future brings. What I am saying is that I finally acknowledge that mental illness can't be cured. With the proper medication it can be abated, temporarily held at bay, or maybe reduced to a manageable level. But it ... is ... always ... there!

I will have, actually I now have, acceptable and not-so-acceptable days. I've stopped calling them "good" and "bad" days, for the simple fact that I don't have good days any more. It was hard to get excited about "good" days, because, due the very nature of Bipolar Disorder, a bad day was sure t follow.

Any more, I don't feel good, I don't feel bad ... I just have a hard time feeling ... period. Sorry but that is just the way it is ...

One Way or Another

It's happened ... I am at the lowest I've been since being diagnosed in 1994. I am at rock bottom, and my will, desire, drive, dedication, hygiene, cleanliness, caring ... all gone. I desperately need help.

Saw my pDoc today, and he said he would put me on Seroquel ... a med I took nearly 12 years ago, and then was taken off. Another pill ... you have got to be kidding me. I am currently on 9 psychotropics, and to answer a desperate plea by adding another doesn't seem right to me. I went into his office expecting hospitalization, or at the very least, IOP (Intense Out Patient), but he never brought it up ... until I did.

Near the end of the 10 minute meeting, I said I thought simply adding another med wasn't the answer. He had added one two weeks earlier, and it made no difference. I told him I needed help, and I needed it now. His secretary had informed me two days earlier that they were looking for me to go into the IOP, but he never brought it up. As a matter of fact, I don't even think he would have thought of it until I mentioned that I thought that was what this meeting was for.

This secretary called a local program, they called, and I am supposed to call tomorrow morning to pursue this possibility.

I need help before I hurt myself, something or someone else. If I can't get the help I need this way, I'll force their hand. One way or another, I'll get it.

Average "Run Of the Mill" Normal

Guess what I just figured out. We are all normal. Now feel free to just accept that at face value, and you can stop reading this blog ... no explanation necessary. Or you can allow me to elaborate.

Now we are all who we are. Right? I don't think that point is up for debate. Of course, comparatively, we are all different, some more so than others. But we are at a place called normal within our individual lives. With me so far?

Suddenly, something happens in your life that causes your psyche to alter just a little. Let's use depression as an example. One day you find yourself in the throes of a big-time depression, one that leaves you "different" in its wake. At this point in time, your mind has made a change, and you are no longer the same person that you were.

But you're not just visiting this point in your life, it's a place that a new you dwells. This new you if no longer you being different, but you as you. Once again, you are normal.

The pendulum has swung back the other way, the universe once again reaches equilibrium, everything is settled, and you are you.

Ain't life sweet.

So the next time soneone tells you that you're not normal, tell them that you are just as normal as they are, your just different. That's the way God made us, so that's the way he wants us to be,

Again, ain't life sweet.

The following post may not be for all audiences. It may contain rough and objectional language; since I haven't written it yet, I'm not sure. But in all likelyhood this will be the case. So, lock the doors and bar the windows, put the kids to sleep, pour yourself a nice glass of single-malt scotch, and enjoy. For after over 6 years of posting on this blog, I feel it's time to "let my hair down" (pretty hard for a bald guy) and tell it like it is.


Are You Sure?



It's Not too Late!



Now You're Committed!!!!
(Or Should Be)

When I was first diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder I, I actually thought it was pretty cool. I pictured myself among the ranks of people like Hemingway, Van Gogh and Sylvia Plathe. I finally had an explanation for my periodic odd behavior, or maybe even an excuse. I had always been a little quirky, and now I find out I wasn't quirky at all, just placed in a category in which I didn't belong.

Now, after being diagnoses over 18 years ago, I can honestly say that I wouldn't live with it. I like being labeled mentally ill because I AM! It is who I am, and it defines me. Sure, it places some limitations on me, and it's difficult to assertain when or where or how those limitations will be. They won't always happen at the same time, in the same place and in the same way. But this threat is real, and always hanging over my head, not unlike the sword of Damocles http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Damocles

In the movie City Slickers Curly, the ranch boss and greenhorn Mitch Robbins(played by Billy Crystal) are riding out to round up some stray cattle. Curly says to Mitch that "the rest of the stuff in life don't mean nothin'" if you know the one thing that is the meaning of life. When asked what that is, Curly simply says that it varies from person to person. Truth or cop out?

Truth. Of course it varies depending on whose life we're talkiing about. It bothers me today that people are always trying to fit into each others molds; to take on their lives. A classic example is the exercise commercials on today. "You too can have a six-pack ab ... for only a 3 minute a day comittment, and $99.95". Sure, there are a few out there who might find this a life-changing experience. But the vast majority of people will be like me (and quite possibly you). I traded in my six-pack abs years ago for what I think is a much better investment; a keg! This is me, and it ain't going to change. So be it. Oh well.

I have gone through at least the past 22 years knowing that I am supposed to do something. You might know the feeling; that thing you were meant to do that, once finished, will have this almost orgasmic quality. As I get older, I tend to think that God had me live the life that I have lived in order to share it with someone who could benefit from my "walk". That is the direction in which I have been heading for the past few years, and the direction that I'll continue to go, until something happens.

"Alice Into the Looking Glass"(with apologies to Dickens)

"As Alice walked toward the looking glass, she could see inside, and it fascinated her. It looked different and interesting and fun, so she approached, getting closer and closer. Soon enough her nose was pressed against the glass and, shocking to her, it went into the glass like it was a thick gelatin.

Interesting. She could pull out at any time, and be back into the world that she knew. So she ventured in, and out, and in, and out, little by little by little, until this gelatin-like substance closed behind her back, and she was completely in.

And what a fascinating world it was, indeed, full of oddities and questionables and deviations she had never see before, nor dreamed about in her wildest of dreams. There were numbers where letters should have been, bicycles riding children. There were lamps on the outside of houses, along with the furniture that went with them. People walked around, some with fins for arms, some with fruit for ears and some with heads on backwards and backs facing forward.

It wasn't scary in the least, but interesting. It felt as if life was a tad off, maybe by a half a second, with real time, and things just didn't match, or couldn't be comprehended. Alice had a bit of a queasy feeling, like how you feel right after you get off of a ferris wheel. She slowly felt like she ws becoming a part of this society; like she might indeed fit in. Actually this is where she belonged, and she planned on visiting again, time permitting.

She turned to leave, putting her back toward this new society, with all intentions of returning at a later date. She walked back toward this gelatin-like substance, right up to where her nose was touching it. As she progressed, something very odd happened. Her nose kind of squished up at the end, like it was up against a hard surface. So she pushed harder, and pretty soon her nose hurt, unable to squish up any more. She couldn't understand. What was going on. She had walked in so easily, and it was so inviting. This was where she belonged, and where she felt most comfortable. But she wanted to go home.

Alice was home. Soon she discovered that even though her entrance into this world of madness was slow and gradual, once in, once comitted, it was where whe would remain. She could still see the world from which she came. but over time that vision too would fade, and the topsy-turvy work on the other side of the looking glass would become the only world she would know; a world she would soon call home.

Remember, when madness becomes reality, then reality is no longer madness - it is simply reality.

OH YEAH, SORRY ABOUT THE LANGUAGE THING - IT JUST NEVER CAME UP - FORTUNATELY!

The Reality

The one thing that frustrates me as a student and writer of mental illness is that it is so nebulous. All you can say with any certainty is that it is, wht it is, when it is. You can't even describe what exactly happened prior to or immediately after an episode, no matter how small or big.

My contention is that it is not possible to understand what is in another persons mind, whether in the realm of mental illness or day-to-day life. The bet we can do is assume that we are understanding or seeing exactly what an other person is explaining or seeing.

I sit here in a bookstore looking at the cove of a book. I can easily understand, and probably describe, what I see. But I can't possibly know for certain that another person is seeing exctly what I am seeing.

Are We There Yet?

Are we there yet? These words uttered from the backseat on a relaxing vation can turn the calmest parent's nerves on edge. Little did I know I would be asking me those very same words, wishing for a completely different answer. Thise kids in the backseat wanted to arrive; I don't.

The journey through mental illness is very unique and personal. At any given time you don't really know where you are in your illness, and it's difficult to determine how you're doing, since that requires a comparison over time, and the duration and severity of your illness i always an unknown.

The very best you can do is detemine how you are in relation to how you have been before. Presently when I ask myself "are we there yet?" I hear a small voice in my head say, "Almost".

Years ago on this blog I described going mad (?) as slowly walking into a mirror, such as the one in "Alice Looking Through the Looking Glass". At first you just poke your nose, or toe in, with the ability to pull it right back again. Over time you find you are slipping in deeper and deeper, still with a small part of you back in reality.

At some point in time, you are all the way in. Turning around you can see the world in which you lived, but only relate in memories, which dimish over time. Slowly, over time, these memories start to fade, and your vision of what was becomes cloudy and indiscernable. You are in. You no longer have to ask if you are there yet ... you are.

A Walk Through the Swamp

Today I continue my walk through McKinney Swamp. I started this last trek a few months ago, but the going is getting more and more difficult. It seems that with every step lately I am mired down deeper and deeper.

In addition, a dense fog has set in. When I breathe in, the fog enters my nose and mouth; the air goes to my lungs, but the "fog" goes into my brain. Because of it my thoughts are muddles and slow, my perception is off, as is my judgement.

I am afraid that soon the swamp won't end.

Through the Looking Glass ... Again

 A few years ago I wrote about "Alice Through the Looking Glass", and how it can be compared with the journey into mental illness. The face of the mirror is that point where "normalcy" meets madness. As we approach, we can only see this point from a distance, not really knowing how deeply into the mirror we'll end up.

Where Did All The Fun Go?

Where did all of the fun go? Being mentally ill used to be so much fun; the highs (and lows, unfortunately), the extremes, in spending, indulging, self-abuse. Waking up not knowing what the day might bring; will I get mad, dad, even, aggressive, depressed, suicidal. Will you hurt your friends and family, will you burn relationship bridges, will you make a fool of yourself during a manic episode? Who knows?

After a while, the fun wears off. It's no longer exciting and fresh; now you know what to expect, becuse it always turns out the same. The only variable is how high you go, and how far you crash. Once you realize this, and the disease becomes real, you become one of us. (Actually you always have been, it's just that now you finally realize it)

Winston Churchill

YOU ARE MENTALLY ILL

You're in good company with the likes of:

            Abraham Lincoln     
            Buzz Aldrin  

            Jimi Hendrix   
            Plato    
            Mark Twain

            Winston Churchill     
            Patty Duke   

            Vincent Van Gogh     
            Virginia Woolf 

            Wolfgang Amadeus Motzart      
            Richard Dreyfus         

            Hans Christian Anderson     
                                                            Sir Isaac Newton                        

So raise your banner high and, when you aren't able, be with those who can raise it for you. NAMI, DBSA, Psych Central and MD Junction are a few I visit regurlarly. They can give great volume to your voice.

Remember, you're in this with many others. Your not alone. You never are. Ever.

My Experience With Social Security

Note:

- If you work for the government, please know that what I am writing is pure fiction, and never really happened. However, if you are reading this blog as a mentally ill person seeking advice and council, disregard that last statement -

A few years ago, when tax time rolled around, I made a mistake and owed the government $10,000. I was pretty scared, but I called the IRS, explained myself and asked for mercy. They gave it, set me up on an affordable payment plan, and I must say the entire experience was good. I quickly dismissed the myths I had heard about how hard the IRS was to work with. Such was it with my dealings with Social Security over my disability.

Here is my timeline in dealing with Social Security for my disability benefits:

Filed for benefits; 3 weeks later was denied; submitted appeal; 3 weeks later approved. No fuss. No muss. (Filling out forms and requesting information from doctors took most of my time)

And "presto" ... my check was deposit when they said, and has been ever since.

In my experience, if you go to them with a genuine disability, you'll be treated fairly and kindly.

PTSD; Sudden Onset Mental Illness (SOMI)

3293 Over the past few years we've been involved in a war in Iraq and Afghanistan. You, and even middle-aged men and women leave family and friends to go and do what their government asks of them. No matter your take on this war, these people are doing exactly what gave us this great country over 200 years ago.

The Army, Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps, either active or National Guard, or whatever other clandestine group their might be takes these men and women, trains them and sends them out to do their duty. They do as asked, which unfortunately means witnessing or performing aatrocities that are hard for the mind to comprehend. And then, they are sent home. What?

Can't Do It

When I go to the doctor, I am trusting his expertise and experience to help me get better. When he tells me to do something, or don't do something, I should follow his orders. After all, by going there I am entrusting my health to him, so for me to second-guess his diagnosis belies this trust. If you can't trust your doctor, why have one in the firs place? (Note: I have now forgotten what I was going to "say" ... hopefully it will come to me soon. Please don't think, "This happens to me, too"; does it happen to you all the time ...  it does to me.) Here it is, that every-evasive thought. Simple trust just isn't enough; with mental illness, trust required responsibility and action on our part.

"Slip Slidin' Away" (with apologies to P.S.)

I have spent my adult life wondering how I will "make a difference". You know what I mean? A person goes through life hoping to accomplish a thing or things that will matter, something they can have remain once they are dead. For some it might be a nice family, good children and grandchildren. Others might like to create something that others can use, or perform a function where their name will be recorded for posterity.

Since my life suddenly shifted gears last summer, and I am no longer a member of the working class, I naturally reflected on what I had done, or left, or who I had affected. It seems that the things that were not done, or done wrong, or left behind and the ones we have hurt, or have hurt us, immediately come to mind. Most people might look back and not notice right away their accomplishments, wondering what they had done with all of those years. They might ask themselves, "What have I done that is uniquely me?"

Since being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder in 1994, I have had to suffer secretly, not allowing my diagnosis to become public. Those days are gone, and now I don't have to hide any more. It's not quite what I thought it would be.


Since I don't have to work any more at not appearing bipolar, my illness seems more profound. It's like the walls have come down, and I am fully exposed. I never realized how much I depended on that wall. At the time I hated it, but it's what kept me sane. I realize it now and, though surprised, I'm not discouraged. In the words of that great statesman, Pink Floyd, it's "just another brick in the wall".

I've learned a valuable lesson as I move through the MI mine field. I started out watching it happen from a distance (if you can imagine). Over time, the distance between MI and myself became shorter and shorter until, an this happened only 8 weeks ago, I now look out from inside the MI. It's scarier than I thought it would be, but I get used to it over time.

So, I've decided to:

NAME IT: It's a mental illness. It's not the plague. It's not illegal, immoral or catching. You have a sickness that is, for the most part, controllable and easily regulated. Sure it will impact you life, but what doesn't? Face it, you're mentally ill; get over yourself and live your life.

CLAIM IT: Stop running. Ignoring it won't make it go away. Trying to be someone you're not won't change it. Pretending it's not a big deal doesn't make it so. It's a big deal to you. Don't hide it; hiding it only makes you feel like it's bad. It's not; it's you. The more of us that stand up and say, at the top of our lungs, 'I'M MENTALLY ILL, AND I'M NOT GOING TO HIDE IT ANYMORE!' (with apologies to "Network"'s Howard Beale).

TAME IT: It's a part of you, or maybe it is you. Regardless, it's here to stay. As much as you're able, put it to use. You have already defined what it is and decided to accept it as your own. Now you have to take control of it. Don't let it control you.

Don 't bother asking yourself if you enjoy being mentally ill; of course you don't. There are times when it results in creativity, and times when it makes it hard to get out of bed. It can take you to the top of the mountain, and deep into the valley, sometimes a few times a year, sometimes many times each day. Sometimes it can be your best friend, or your worst enemy.

Befriend it, and get on with your life.

"I Don't Know, I Don't Remember", I Can't Recall"

Last Wednesday I had a psychological test that had been scheduled by Social Security. I have taken quite a few over the years and, when they told me it would take 2 hours, I assumed it was the ol' MMPI. I pictured sitting in front of a computer terminal, typing away through the 600+ questions. I couldn't have been more wrong.

For the entire 2 hours, my responses were, "I don't know", "I don't remember" or "I don't recall".Throughout the entire process, the psychologist sat across his desk from me, reading instructions on the back of every page that he flipped over in front of me. He would give instructions on each set of tests, I would have 10 seconds to memorize what the test required and then spit out what I memorized in whatever form was required.

The tests varied, each beginning with one or two items to memorize, and went as high as eight. We began with me repeating (within 10 seconds) a series of numbers. After we reached a series of eight, then I would repeat them backwards and, of course, the ever-popular "count backwards from 100 by 7's".

Then he would say a list of 20 pairs of words; some went together and some didn't. He would say one, and I would have to say the word that it was paired with. He referred to this list throughout the testing.

Then we moved on to memorizing different shapes in a grid of 4 X 5, placing the corresponding tiles into a four X five divided container. This was repeated multiple times, with many different shapes and designs.

The testing went quickly, and I didn't mind it all that much. It was glaringly obvious throughout the process that I do have a problem with short-term memory. A few months ago, my pDoc started me on Aricept, after I was diagnosed with early-onset Dementia. (And the hits just keep on coming)

Do you ever wonder if you're actually MI, or it's just something you imagine;maybe " it's all in your mind". There are two possible scenarios here; you ARE mentally ill, or you think you are mentally ill, the act of which DOES make you mentally ill. I bring this up because, after a day of testing, like that which took place on Wednesday, it is proven that I have the problems I think I have. Better yet, it verifies those things that people claim I do/say, but I say I do not, actually take place.I may mess up a lot of things, but one thing is certain; I know who I am!

Forms, Forms and More Forms

Well, the good news is that I was approved for disability through my employer, the United Methodist Church. From the beginning to the end, the process was quick and painless; really! Once I notified my DS, the church, both at the Conference and General level, took off running. All I had to do was fill out and sign the form they sent, and they pushed the process along. I have worked for a number of large corporations, and their unwritten policy was, "Once you're gone, you're gone ... and forgotten about".

However, the other processes are another story, and can be divided into two areas; social security disability and financial protection.

Getting approval for Social Security disability is a difficult, involved and time-consuming process. Once the initial paperwork is submitted, they schedule two or more doctor appointments for you. I'm not really sure of the purpose of these visits, although I imagine it is to make a preliminary determination as to if you actually have, to some degree, the health issues that you claim. I often leave asking myself, "What in the world did that accomplish"?

The entire process of applying, doctor appointments, responding to inquiries and waiting, waiting waiting can take, so I am told, anywhere from 5-8 months, or more. Nearly 3/4 are denied the first time, since they need to make certain that 1) the disability fits their criteria and 2) you really have that disability. If denied, you can appeal up to three times, the third time being before a judge. I imagine that this person actually seeing the candidate could be helpful.

On nearly all of the loans I've taken out I also bought "payment protection", a policy that protects the person owing the money by either making the payments for them (with no interest) for a specific time period, until the loan is paid off  or actually pay off the loan in full up front. Each one of these requires a significant amount of paperwork, application and approval process and medical paperwork verifying the illness and dates of the illness. I am about half way through the process (about five), with only one rejection - which should be approved after an additional letter from my pDoc.

All in all, I must say that the process isn't all that bad. To apply for disability, you do need to be disabled, if for no other reason than to have the time to fill out all of the forms. And you have to keep good records, because there is occasion when someone will lose a copy of this, or require another copy of that, and having those on hand can be a life saver.

Throughout this process God has blessed us, and given us much more than we deserve. With all of my heart I tell you that none of this would have been possible without Him; He has watched out for us, kept us from making foolish mistakes and provided for us when the need was there. We try to do our part by following Him in prayer and devotion, but it's His plan, and we are honored to be a part.

Let me share one little story before I close, to let you know the miracles God can perform in our lives, if we simply let Him have control. I call this my "literary miracle".

About 15 years ago, I was Environmental/Safety Director of a large silicone-manufacturing plant in Amish country in northeast Indiana. One Saturday afternoon, my wife and I went to a Salvation Army store, and one item I purchased was a small booklet, "My Heart, Christ's Home", printed in the 40's. I fell in love with it; it was a story of how your home has separate compartments, like rooms, and Jesus wants to clean each one.

The following Monday, I took the booklet to work, sharing it with everyone who would listen. Throughout the morning I showed it to everyone I knew, and a few people that I didn't. Later in the morning one person I told was especially interested and, feeling that I needed to, but saddened by the thought, I gave it to her. I was truly heartbroken; as far as I knew, that was the last copy, never to be reprinted.

At noon I drove to the local Christian bookstore, my heart burdened with the book I my never see again. When I walked in, the store owner, who is a friend, grabbed me by the arm and hustled me to the back of the store. She was so excited. She had received a shipment of books in that morning, and told me, "I received a book today that I know you would love. I thought of you when I first laid eyes on it, and I won't think of selling you a copy. I am going to give you one."

 She reached behind a workbench and handed me a NEW copy of, you guessed it, "My Heart, Christ's Home". She gave me a copy of the very same book I had reluctantly given up no more than 2 hours earlier. There is no other way to explain this without using the words "miracle" and "God" and "blessing". This was a true gift from God; plain and simple. Whenever my faith wavers, or I question, I simply reflect on this gift of God, and I'm right back on track.

It also turns out that the time when I gifted the booklet and the delivery to the bookstore were the same. Isn't God wonderful!!!!

Until the next time.

BiPolarPastor

A Long Time Coming

A Long Time Coming

and

A Long Time Being

"Just Plain Nuts"

(Posted on: August 12, 2010)

After 18 years of illness (and still counting), nearly 20 different medication cocktails, 121 psychologist and over 175 therapst visits; after multiple ECT treatments, numerous cuts, stabs and various types of destructive behavior; after thousands of dollars wasted, many missed business opportunities and a lifetime of pretendiing and making excuses; after all this, it’s finally official. I have been officially designated disabled by the United Methodist Church.

People can now know who I really am. They might finally understand why I act a little “different” from time to time; they might realize why I did what I did when I did what I did. I no longer have to hide behind a fascade of excuses and lies. There's no stopping me now. I can sing at the top of my lungs, "I am mentally ill! I am mentally ill!" There is nothing that can hold me back now. I am part of a group that works tirelessly to erase the stigma of mental illness, so it's no longer an obstacle.

Mental illness becomes a non-issue,

I’m finally free ........ or am I?

Next we’ll examine what happens when the pressure of hiding your illness is over. Will it really be better than before?

CELEBRATING YOUR BIPOLAR-ITY

               Posted on: August 12, 2010


If you are mentally ill, this might have happened to you. If it hasn’t, give it time, and it will.


Typically something happens so you know it’s there; a crippling depression, an event triggered by your mania or something telling you that things aren’t quite right.


You meet with a doctor and, after an evaluation, are told you have Bipolar Disorder, or what used to be called Manic Depression. You are mentally ill, joining the ranks of some very creative people, and some not so blessed.


If you are like me, you’ll learn all you can about your illness, in order to understand what it is, what it does and what you can do.This position can be fun, as you learn about something brand new, and are gaining first-hand knowledge. At this point, you are outside of the illness, looking in.


Over time, you become very familiar with Bipolar Disorder, both through study and personal experience. What might happen, as in my case, is the symptoms worsen,and the line between what is real and what you think is real becomes blurred. At this point, you have changed positions; you are no longer looking at mental illness, you are now deep within the illness, looking out at the place where you looked in..


Whether this happens once, or more frequently, don’t let the stigma of mental illness define who you are. Life is a series of experiences, and this is just another one. You know who you are. Embrace your bipolar-ity!

UMC General Board of Pension and Health Benefits

Have you ever worked for a company that, as long as you are producing and following their rules, you're treated with respect and kindness? The "upper management" makes over you, attentive to everything you say, feigning interest in what is important to you. I know it has happened to me in the past when I worked in some of the local factories. If you are anything like me, you'll swallow it hook, line and sinker. I'm naive and, even thought I know it's coming, I don't see it when it shows up.

So when I talked to my District Superintendent nearly two months ago, I expected the same treatment. After all, I would no longer be a "producer", so why would they care about me? I would now become a taker, rather than a giver. There are two things that pushed me into pursuing disability; my health gave me no choice, and I felt that God said the time was right for me to take this option.

I can tell you without reservation that, as of the moment I stepped into the DS's office, I have received respect, love and caring. He, the Indiana Conference HR Manager and the General Board of Pension and Health Benefits (GBOPHB) have pushed this process along with very little participation by myself. I am very impressed by the treatment they give their pastors in crisis.

And, I am very proud and happy to call myself a United Methodist.

Until we meet again,

Mike