I've spent most of this summer remodeling an old house, my old house, and learning skills along the way. I can paint rooms and ceilings like a pro. I can remove the stench of human urine with baking soda and vinegar. I even have a general sense of what tools are used for what jobs. It's not been an easy process, but I've gained an amazing friend, become a "funcle" to a 14 year old young lady, and had to face down some ancient demons.
I did some other things this summer, like taking 2 education courses toward Secondary English Language and Literature certification, leaving me with 2 exams and student teaching to have that. I also worked at a local fireworks store, pulling a 70 hour week prior to and during Independence Day. I loved every minute of it, and I wish the season for such things wasn't so short here in the north woods of Maine. I applied for a few teaching positions, and a couple of other jobs with non-profit organizations. I didn't receive any offers, but it was nice to get a few interviews nonetheless.
And, I quit my regular job, working as an Ed Tech III in Special Education Services with elementary students. At 42, I felt too old to be making the same amount of money getting kicked and spit on by 2nd and 3rd graders, as I was stocking shelves with colorful explosives. It was not an easy decision to make, and I miss the creativity and joyousness of the children. But I do not miss the politics, the "role" itself of being an Ed Tech, or feeling less than as a person because I wasn't a real teacher. As in all of life, there are levels that determine your social value, in and out of your job. In American public education it's like a caste system, only with fewer financial benefits. As an Ed Tech I wasn't an "untouchable," but some days I sure felt that way. And when much of your community believes that you have an easy job that you are overpaid for, well, it became too much for me to handle.
And, here's what happened at the end of my summer vacation. As I said to the nurse and the psychiatric nurse practitioner, "I haven't gone off the rails, but I am definitely on the wrong train, and I'm not really sure how I got on board."
The medications that control my Bipolar 1 Disorder , 5 years after my first inpatient hospitalization, have started to lose their efficacy. The meds work, but not enough, and I need more to be stable. Luckily, I recognized this before I ended up in the hospital, but it's been a struggle. I don't like being sick, or ill, or mental, or crazy, or nuts, or deranged, or whatever. I hate the feeling of being out of control and knowing it. And this time I did something about it before it was too late.
So, I've added a new medication to the regimen, I'm checking in with the appropriate people on a regular basis, and I'm napping to make sure I get enough rest. Since I know the medication's primary use is for schizophrenia, which I don't have, I worry about the inherent loss of creativity that comes with these drugs. It's really more about the motivation, the physical ability to get out of my own way that's the issue. But being able to see outside the medicated parameters will take work as well. And of course, it's vital that I can see the possibilities, without getting on another railway car to somewhere I don't want to go.
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| Summer sunshine. |
At the end of the day, I am a different version of myself, but one that I hope can work within a world that requires a certain level of sanity to function. If not, just put me on an eastbound train, and I'll make my way back home. Who knows what next summer vacation will bring.
Thank you for being on this section of the track on my journey.
Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.
Ari
