VI. The Path To Wholeness

I'd like to invite you in a little deeper inside the inner workings of a man on the path to wholeness. A man that felt desperately lacking in a few major areas at the outset of being transplant waitlisted with University of Washington. Many people tell me they admire my strength. I do not argue that point; the past year has taken a fair amount of strength to persist. Periodically, throughout the active status, my own strength fails though, especially in my mind. I could not control my imagination to the point of causing me frequent downward spirals. In light of that, I choose to share something that is not a triumph nor a cry of attention. My hope is that somewhere between the lines of this journal, someone else finds a level ground to stand upon again.

I preface this entry with these thoughts: I am not a victim of my circumstances. My diminished capacity means that I reconcile that day's level with the wide difference between that reality and total healing I believe will happen. I make this choice: only I have the ability to choose how I assimilate that data into my day. Therefore, I whole-heartedly reject passivity and a languishing mental train. It remains a harder exercise some days than others - that is the truth. With that backdrop, I begin.

Though I do not always learn from my mistakes as quickly as I ought, I never shy away from admitting that I have a whole heap to learn, so I maintain a growth mindset. Throughout the past few years, I routinely inventoried my life as found in the books of John Maxwell and Zig Ziglar. As I looked in the mirror, objectively it horrified me. I succumbed to this feeling and it ate at me. Some dear friends offered, "look in the mirror and tell yourself that you love you until you believe it." If I relearned to see myself as God does and others do, then I could start picking up the pieces of my displaced confidence. But I couldn't. Everywhere I looked within myself, I saw a mess still needing clean-up. I saw a jobless man because of continued lung deterioration and an indefinite time table for transplant. The next thought turned into my earning potential possibly forever tarnished. Relationship tension jumped on the issue backpack next. Oh, and yes, the biggest one lurked behind it, I needed major medical intervention to overcome my failing health condition at a young age. I couldn't reconcile the objectively awful truths as I looked in the mirror while still holding my head up, never-mind held up high.

"Let me ask you a question," My friend, a mentor, business owner, and chronic pain survivor in his own right replied. "Did any of these books with their self-inventories have a chapter in performing audits while dealing with a limiting and life-changing capability level?"

Not one to give an out or make excuses, he simply provided a disclaimer that my audit was not a true apples-to-apple comparison, so in doing it repetitively, I set myself up to beat myself - in my soul.

"Hold off on those until you've recovered or at least found a new level that is normal. Do as much as you can within those parameters, then reassess," he cautioned. I thank God for that friend's wisdom and it helped keep my sanity at bay. But I was still miserable inside.

In the Bible where it instructs "to take every thought captive (2 Cor 10:5)," Paul writes this because thoughts mount if not extinguished. They become fodder for negative thoughts to spread, then they become oppressive. Some call them strongholds.

One particularly miserable day, my thoughts began to drift.

"Wouldn't it just be easier for everyone if I wasn't here anymore," I thought. It was a fleeting thought at first, only for a moment. But then the miserable day greeted another miserable day, which turned into a miserable week. A couple more steps forward and then many steps backwards, now they weren't just miserable days or weeks. Likewise, they weren't just fleeting thoughts. They became statements.

"If I wasn't here, not many would suffer," I concluded. I rationalized this train wreck of thinking further.

"My kids and family are already positioned ok for me to be gone, perhaps better without me on the farmland to get in the way anymore. We skip the hospital bills. The indefinite loop of prescriptions are phased out. The exorbitant healthcare costs to my family because of me are negated. To boot, there's no guarantee that transplant cures my problem beyond another 5 years, even if it is deemed successful. So if it does go down like that, is it even worth the return on investment? All this, for limited life extension."

I felt powerless to stop the thinking pattern and everywhere I looked was further proof that maybe it was time to give up the ghost. The thoughts morphed into movie scene imaginations of me careening though stop signs or other life-threatening things happening to me as I traveled. Going back to my roots, I dug deeper into my Christian disciplines because I still desired to be an honorable man for my wife and kids, but I was barely hanging on and I knew it. One Sunday, at the end of the sermon, I put on my coat and was nearly ready to leave the sanctuary.

"If anyone knows that they are struggling with thoughts of suicide, you need to come up now," one of the lead pastors said.

"Oh shoot. That's me," I reluctantly told myself. "I'd better do this."

I received prayer that day. Tangibly, I felt more peace and a stronger confidence that I could get through this season one little step at a time. But these morbid car scenes replayed in my mind at major road intersections. The prayer session helped no doubt, but it also opened my eyes to how many times I let my mind wander dangerously.

After receiving a little more pastoral counsel, I met with a few of them for a specific appointment. We retraced a trauma event of me bedside with my mom in the hospital and how my present day imagination played on the fear that I was going to die the same way with my daughter bedside with me in the hospital. I buried this exaggerated drama projection in my soul ever since I had first been recommended as a transplant candidate. In that appointment, I cried heavily as one of the pastors embraced me.

Following their guidance through this appointment and other counseling sessions is just one of the ways I sought increased freedom from this oppression. Next, I enrolled in a class that has helped me shift my mindsets from powerless to powerful - yes, while still under construction. I connected with a UW lung transplant support group. My vision transformed as I dropped the image of a broken man, and learned to see myself instead as a whole man, with or without new lungs "because as a man thinks in his heart, so is he. (Proverbs 23:7)" I turned my attention from myself and my needs in prayer onto others. My prevailing thought was, if I can't get these things sorted out now, even with new lungs, I'd be apt to recover, but with all the same blindspots as before I received "the call." The next line is a quote from Danny Silk.

"I require respect and responsibility from me." Respect means that I honor the person who God created me to be and I don't believe he makes trash. It is why every single person has inherent value. It is why I believe everyone has a story to tell.  It is why I believe I am whole even without evidence of full healing yet.

And if these words happen to fall to the ground, and they carry on in infamy, that's ok. I am choosing powerful mindsets. I'd rather risk it with action and proactivity than fall into oppression again with passivity and a dark cloud sinking my ship.