Rock and a Hard Place

Sitting in the counselors office with tears welling up in my eyes, unable to speak, and unable to process a single coherent thought. How did this happen? Where did this come from? At that moment her words crashed through my shell. “You can’t do it all. You can’t be responsible for everything and everyone.” I never expected this moment to happen – though it has happened before.

The problem with being invincible is that is is a lie. Every superhero has a weak spot. Every knight has a chink in his armor. Every movie hero reaches a point of no return. Even Jesus was nailed to the cross. So, what next?

As I’ve thought and analyzed the situations that got us to this point, I’ve come up with several conclusions. Others may have their own conclusions and opinions, but until they sit down and talk with me – or convince me otherwise – this is how I see it.

• First, for whatever reasons, our last year in Colorado Springs resulted in burnout. Despite taking a one month sabbatical, I was spent, exhausted, and coming to the end of a great project. It was an awesome ride, and I think we could have gone further with more support, but I was no longer leading. Common Ground was done. (PS: Not excusing my state, just explaining. I could have done things much better.)
• Second, our move to Oregon came at a really bad time. I would never recommend bringing a non-native to the Pacific Northwest at the beginning of Winter. I would also never, ever recommend moving before, during, and after a child is about to be born. I interviewed an bought a house shortly before our Smiling Son was born, and we moved six weeks after his birth day. Bad, bad, bad idea.
• Third, my calling, my leadership style, and my theology did not match the church that hired me. It wasn’t a good fit – for whatever reason. But one cannot change their calling, leadership style, or theology. It is what it is. But plenty of better men and women than I have been put to death for a lot less – I don’t know why I expected any different.
• And finally, my requests for tolerance and understanding of our exhaustion, depression, and situation were virtually ignored. I remember the board remembers demanding and my overseers almost chuckling when I asked for compassion and understanding. I was mad; indignant, and really, really crushed by their lack of love and support.

But now what? What have I done to improve things – to move on, if you will?

To be honest, I didn’t handle the first months of unemployment well. Although I successfully regained my paramedic license, I spent a lot of time slumped in a chair, like a slug. I was grouchy, discouraged, angry, depressed, sullen, and generally not very stable.

And then I went to work as a paramedic. We narrowly dodged foreclosure on our house, had not accrued debt, and survived a time of great pain. It was challenging, those first few months, reintegrating back into a career I left 15 years earlier. In fact, I hadn’t worked in the field for over 20 years. I learned much.

But it was challenging. Long hours, too little sleep, much to learn, and a very different way to look at EMS. In fact, the last two years have been extremely challenging. When I was moved to the graveyard shift a year ago, it got worse. Each shift rotation takes more and more of a toll on my body, mind, and spirit. Consequently, it is killing me – and subsequently, killing my family. But I continued to trudge forward.

Last Fall, feeling at the end of my rope, emotionally and physically, I made an appointment with a counselor. I felt worthless as a husband, father, and human. I had no reserve and no will to continue on. Most of this was induced by sleep deprivation, some from working a job (as opposed to a career I am passionate about), and some from the loss of hope. It is mostly circumstantial, but it is very real.

Last Friday, as my Wonderful Wife and I sat in the counselor’s office, the counselor stated clearly my situation – which was simply a reframing of my thoughts. “You are exhausted, have no reserve, and you feel worthless. You are trying to do your job, take care of your family, and take care of yourself.” It was at this point where tears welled up in my eyes. She continued, ”You are trying to be responsible for everyone.” And she paused. “But you can’t do it – it’s impossible.”

For some time, I’ve thought about just quitting my job. However, as most know, it is really dumb to quit a job if you don’t have something else lined up. And in the current economy, that is even more important. It’s just that between the night shift, the long commute, and the toll it is taking on us, as a family, I’m not sure we can continue down this path.

“You are exhausted, have no reserve, and you feel worthless. You are trying to do your job, take care of your family, and take care of yourself.“

We are in the process of losing our house, and that will enable us to move closer to my employer, but that is still several months away. But as I sat there on the counselor’s couch, my wife’s gentle hand on my knee, I knew in my heart of hearts that I have to put my family first. Our unity, as a family, is more important than anything else. Anything.

I thought my promotion last year would solve some issues. More pay, better hours, passion within my skill set, et cetera. And it was. Unfortunately, circumstances being what they were, it was a rough month at home, and that took a toll on my ability to cope and present myself at work. The promotion was soon taken away.

I’ve been considering dropping to part-time at work, but we are seriously concerned about losing our healthcare insurance (damn it!). I’ve frantically looked for work that better matches my skills and passion, but every road is a dead-end.

For the past several weeks, I knew I was ready to break. My IBS kept flaring up, I get stir-crazy cooped up in the front seat of the ambulance all night, and I have no desire to verbally or emotionally connect with my patients. Then a couple of weeks ago, my shoulder issue began to flare up, and I pulled a muscle in my back. Last Thursday and Friday, I had a constant migraine headache – something that has been rare for several years.

Addiction?

Over the course of the last few years, there were a few times where I remembered the mind-altering effects of drugs and alcohol. I know I don’t want to return to that life, and I know it would destroy me, my family, and possibly end my life – but I was looking for escape. The urge was not strong, I was not feeling weak, but it was a thought that ran through my head a time or two.

In my line of work, we often encounter people who suffer the ravages of drugs and/or alcohol. It isn’t pretty, and in fact, these people are trapped in their addiction. But I don’t hate on them. I know how hard this life can be. I know how easy it is to want to escape. I know that people didn’t set out to become addicts – but due to generational curses, situational despair, and a society that values escape over solid, compassionate help – it is an easy ditch to fall into.

I have compassion, even when they are obnoxious. I will care for them, but I won’t necessarily tolerate the manipulation and crap they try to throw my way. Many of these folks have family and friends who lean towards enabling behaviors, and they let the addicts in their lives get away with anything and everything. I won’t do that – but it doesn’t stop my heart from breaking. And I believe that as a culture, as a country, we are failing these people. For some reason, we fail to offer the resources needed to rescue people, care for people, or even direct people who have fallen into the spiritual, emotional, psychological, and medical darkness of addiction.

Locally, emergency responders have noticed an uptick in suicides and suicidal ideations (attempts). One day last week, we transported about five people, who were so desperate they were contemplating suicide. During the same week, I heard of several other crews responding to hangings, self-inflicted gunshot wounds, and successful overdoses.

I understand that desperation. What does one do when they feel trapped? If I were single, I’d most likely quit my job in a heartbeat. But I can’t – I have a family to look after. If we lived 150 years ago, we could throw all of our valuables into a covered wagon and go west. We’d live off the land, eat venison and rarebit, build a house out of mud or alder trees, and plant a huge vegetable garden. But we don’t. We could live out of our car, but without a job, it would quickly run out of gas. We could probably live off of food stamps – we did a few years ago. But our society is such, that a job is really necessary.

Where does one turn when they are desperate? I’m not the only one who stays at my job for the healthcare insurance. I’m not the only one who continues to make barely enough to survive, for long hours, and with an ungodly commute. But at some point, the emotional and physical toll become too much. I see it in my patients, I see it in my coworkers, I see it in the news, and I see it on the streets.

We made a decision several months ago to let our home go into foreclosure. We’ve lost over $100,000 in real estate capital in the last five to six years, our house is worth a fraction of what we mortgaged it for, and we are earning an annual salary 30% lower than we were when we bought the house. We know we can move to someplace that better suits our current income, a place that is closer to my work, and a place that won’t be as nice as we’re in currently. Renting a place that is within our budget will take a lot of pressure off our backs. Living within a half-hour of my work, will save approximately two hours a day in commuting – which will really help with the sleep deprivation issue. I’d like to get off the night shift (I’m too old for this), but that is just a matter of time and attrition. Soon, that opportunity will come – and that will help immensely.

Yet, some are not able to make these sort of changes. If they are under, or unemployed, even a very modest living situation will be too expensive. Due to the mobile nature of our society, they may not have friends or family nearby who could help. Many people do not have the education or skills to know how to manage what meager resources they do have. Living hand to mouth, they eat at McDonald’s or Taco Bell, smoke away a large proportion of their income, and rely on expensive services to meet their emergent healthcare needs. Bill collectors, overdrawn bank accounts, and broken families are way to common for those at the lower end of the economic scale.

Those who were once firmly ensconced in the Middle Class, now find themselves struggling to stay afloat. Whether they made poor financial and real estate decisions, or like us, got caught up in the sweep of a global economic meltdown, they now find themselves trapped.

“We aren’t trapped, we’ve just lost sight of the possibilities.”

The other day we responded to an upper-middle class neighborhood to care for a well-dressed, educated, and employed person who wanted to kill herself. She was embarrassed, discouraged, and crying. I don’t know her story. I don’t need to know. But I do know that suicide is almost always the last desperate act of someone who cannot handle the pain any longer.

“If we, as a society and the most prosperous nation in the history of the world, could provide a better safety net and help those in desperation, I wonder how much less pain there would be?”

If we, as a society and the most prosperous nation in the history of the world, could provide a better safety net and help those in desperation, I wonder how much less pain there would be? What if the churches, charged in Matthew 25, could step up to meet the emotional, financial, and medical needs of those trapped in a life they never thought possible? Would more people be open to the spiritual help these churches are so intent on offering?

What if? What if my life ended? What would become of my family? My children would be devastated. Dev-A-Stated. The man they worship, their hero, their Daddy – gone. It simply is NOT an option. But, you know, that just adds to the feeling of being trapped. What does one do when they can’t move forward, they can’t go back, and they are trapped? What do you do when your own counselor tells you it is impossible to keep doing what you’re doing?

I’m reminded of the story of the Jews on the banks of the Red Sea. After a 400 year siege, Moses shows up to “deliver” them. As God’s mouthpiece, he demands freedom for the Jews. And after a few plagues, the Pharaoh is convinced to let the Israelites leave, but shortly after their departure, he changes his mind and goes after them.

Imagine standing on the banks of the Red Sea and seeing the hordes of Egyptian Cavalry and infantry closing in on them. They look to Moses and collectively cry out, “Why did you bring us into the desert to die? Were their not enough graves in Egypt?” They are afraid. They are trapped. They feel betrayed. On one side of them is the vast Red Sea, and they have no boats. On the other side are great mountains which they are ill equipped to scale. And to the other side, the bitter Egyptian army closes in on them.

Whether you face creditors, landlords, government regulators, IRS auditors, unemployment, mental or physical illness, addiction, family turmoil, or some other desperate need, you know the feeling. There’s no way out. You are going to die unless something changes – and there doesn’t appear to be any hope on either horizon. What now?

This is when God showed up – right when there was no other hope.

Suicide is the result of a loss of hope, a lack of patience, and/or serious desperation. All of these are understandable when you apply even just a little empathy. You could be the one who offers hope, you could be the one who shares your wealth – whether it is emotional wealth, financial, medical, or spiritual. You could be the one to spend a little time listening. You could offer to “fix,” but most likely, sharing a little hope is what people really need.

Allowing oneself to get to the point of no return is very scary. Quitting a job, letting one’s house be foreclosed upon, or even abandoning some preconceived ideas on what success looks like. The Jews in Egypt did just this. They left the security of their homes in Egypt. They left the beauty and bounty of Egypt – the water, food stores, and shelter. They struck out for the desert, where there was no water or food for the over one million people on foot. Seriously, what were they thinking?

But without these desperate measures, they remained trapped in a culture that was not conducive to their spiritual growth and betterment. Without abandoning their hope in the Egyptian’s control, they were dead anyway. But if you remember, from the time Moses first arrived, the Israelites did not want to leave. God had to harden Pharaoh’s heart, so he would make it unbearable for the Jews, and they would leave.

As one friend said once, people don’t change until the pain of not changing is worse than the pain of change. This is where the Israelites had come to realize it was time to leave Egypt – to go to the barren desert – in the hope there was something better.

We aren’t trapped, we’ve just lost sight of the possibilities. My vision grew clouded. I had no hope. I didn’t know where to turn. The weight on my shoulders was so great, my body began to feel the strain. I was desperate.

Today, I don’t feel desperate.

I requested and was granted a Family Medical Leave of Absence. There will be no income for the next month, we will have to pay for our own medical insurance, and our situation, really, has not changed. But I no longer feel trapped between a rock and a hard space. Between Scylla and Charybdis, it’s a very scary place to be. The weight on my shoulders is gone.

I don’t know what the future holds, but last night I slept about 12 hours straight, and I plan to do that again. I plan to start walking everyday, eating better, and getting my house in a better condition to sell. But the biggest thing I will do is to be less grouchy, and more available to my wife and kids. This is primary.

It will be interesting to see whether God parts the sea, moves the mountains, or slays the oppressive army that is closing in on us. He may choose to make us invincible, take away my weakness to Kryptonite, or teleport us to a a new location. Maybe we’ll win the lottery, be offered a great new job, or find solace in the poverty that threatens to overtake us. Either way, today I have hope again. Just knowing I don’t have to abandon my family, in their time of need, is enough to restore my soul.

Yes, we may be between that big rock and the ugly sea monster, but I’m not worried.