Paul's Reality

We (I) decided to trade off the problems associated with buying materials at a big box store for the problems of buying them at a somewhat smaller place with more personal service. Yeah, that’s right… the type of place I really hate! Once delivery charges are taken into account there is essentially no price difference.

I won’t have to worry about how to manage so many large bulky items and how the delivery is set up at the big box store. But I will have to deal with a place I’ve never been before and I will be at the mercy of the store employee(s) on product quality since they will be selecting based on my order. They already have the order (we called it in today) so all I really have to do is go there and pay for it. That’s good because it will minimize the amount of time dealing with people. As far as quality goes, this company has a really good reputation so we’ll see how good they really are. There is a bonus: they have everything on my list, whereas the big box store had all but one item. I could do without that item and add it later, but this way I won’t have to.

If I don’t totally freak out about this between now and Wednesday morning, it looks like I may get some work done around here in 2011 after all. I’m trying to do a little demolition today in preparation for the project. Boo says I’m making way too much noise and disturbing his afternoon nap!

I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I felt ill. I was hyperventilating. My skin was crawling. I was having muscle spasms all over my body. I’m having a lot of anxiety about shopping for building materials this week. The plan is to resolve any questions that can be resolved by phone today, then go to the city (40 miles away) Wednesday to buy the stuff and arrange for the store to deliver it. My daily living support services worker will be helping with all this, but still I’m exploding with anxiety.

Usually I don’t struggle excessively with shopping at the big box home improvement centers like Lowe’s or Home Depot. This time is an exception because it involves things I have never done before. I’ve never had the store deliver things, and this will be a larger quantity than I have ever purchased in one trip. Although it looks like plywood is back in stock, I’m not sure the store will have enough of it. I’m not sure if I can pile all the stuff I need on one cart, wheeled platform, or whatever they call all those various types of rolling things. If I can get it all on there I’m not sure all the bar codes will be accessible for scanning at checkout. I think there is an area where you can park one or more rolling things you’ve loaded up while you’re loading another, then check out all at once. But I’ve never done that so I’m extremely nervous about it. I guess the problem is I’m not sure that is what people do. I’ve seen loaded rolling things parked there with no one around them and I’m guessing that is why. They were always pretty much crammed to full capacity. Maybe they were waiting to be loaded on a store truck for delivery. I just don’t know. I’m not sure how the delivery arrangements are handled. I don’t know what to say or what I will be asked to do. I see on their web site it says you must provide a photo ID and the credit card used to make the purchase at time of delivery to prove you are who you claim to be. It doesn’t say if that applies only to web site purchases, or if it is also applicable to in-store purchases that they deliver. I won’t be using a credit card so that could be a problem. All this stuff keeps churning around in my mind, driving me crazy!

I gave up trying to sleep around 4:00 AM, got up and was pacing around. I noticed Boo giving me that “Uh-oh, you’re freaked out” look. Now he is being unusually affectionate. He does that when I get really tied up in knots with anxiety. I think most cats understand a lot more than they get credit for, but perhaps Boo understands anxiety particularly well. We’ve always called him a very timid cat, but there are times he seems downright anxious. He has been that way since he was a kitten, long before he came to live with me, so I don’t think he is just imitating my behavior.

I have some chores to do this morning. I’m expecting my DLSS worker around noon to discuss plans for Wednesday and help with any phone calls that seem appropriate to prepare for this trip. Obviously I’m hoping all goes well, or at least well enough. There are no words to describe what it would do for my overall mental state if I could get some needed work done around here before winter.

Remnants of Irene came through here yesterday afternoon with wind gusts over 50 mph and heavy rain. I have a few tree branches down, but no apparent damage to my beloved antennas. The long, low runs of wire through the forest, used as special purpose receiving antennas, are probably down due to falling trees and branches. But that is a given after any good wind. I went out during the height of the storm yesterday to re-tension some tie-down ropes. The lawn felt like walking on a jell-o surface. Rain was coming down at such a rate the topsoil was liquefied. I can see footprints two to three inches deep wherever I walked yesterday. To quote Mr. Spock: Fascinating.

Caution: bats and animal harm

OK, that’s it. Enough with the damn bats already!

Because my home is long overdue for some critical repairs, small holes have developed here and there, which have been allowing bats to invade the attic and a storage room that used to be a porch. I love all creatures, but this is simply unacceptable. They make a mess and are known carriers of disease, including rabies. Boo is behind on his rabies shot, which I will take care of ASAP. Meanwhile I am very worried. If a bat gets where he can get to it, he will be chasing it. He thinks they are huge bugs!

For the past several evenings I have been working to plug any known entry points after the bats go out to hunt. I can find no more apparent entry points but some of the bats did return this morning. I can hear them clicking and squeaking when I use a long stick to prod up in the dark crevices where they hide during the day. I am not amused!

I prefer not to harm any creature but I’ve declared war. Last night I shot and killed two bats using a .177 caliber air rifle. I will continue trying to locate and plug the points of entry, but meanwhile every evening at bat awakening hour (dusk) they will not be the only things on the hunt. I will be hunting them.

Sometimes it seems like you just can’t win. Hurricane Irene heading this way has thrown a monkey wrench into my plans for home improvement projects. One of the most important items on my list was plywood, but now there’s not a sheet of it to be had at any of the big stores. I feel like I’ve been kicked in the stomach. I realize people need plywood to protect windows from a hurricane but it may be weeks or months before I get the opportunity to shop for building materials again. I will try to check smaller stores on Monday when I have assistance available, but it is doubtful whether any of them still have any.

Often the little things anxiety interferes with are among the more aggravating and difficult to understand. I went into town this morning to buy food and a few more plastic containers for my organization projects. I bought containers at a local discount store. The clerk didn’t offer to put them in a bag. I knew carrying them was going to be a problem without a bag. Usually when I buy these they are put in a large plastic bag which I can then hold with one hand on the way home. The containers are too large to fit in my bicycle baskets. I tried to ask for a bag but anxiety refused to allow it. At the thought of asking I immediately started sweating, had a painful knot in my stomach, vision blurred and I became disconnected from what was going on around me. I didn’t hear or didn’t understand anything people around me said after that.

Outside I tried to figure out how to carry the containers home. They were the stackable kind but I couldn’t hang onto the stack with one hand. I went around to the back of the store so I wouldn’t be watched. It seemed possible to tie the containers on top of the big rear dual basket if I had some string or rope. I thought about going back into the store to buy string, but anxiety refused to allow that. I ended up removing both boot laces and using them to tie the containers on top of the basket. Fortunately riding a bike without boot laces isn’t as difficult as walking without them!

It would be a good idea to carry a plastic bag or two and some durable pieces of string or cord with me at all times. Perhaps a couple bungee cords wouldn’t  hurt either. I don’t want to lose space in the baskets, because I sometimes need all of it and then some. I will see if I can find a container with a lid that fastens securely and some way to attach it to the bike frame.

This is not a current event. I wanted to write a few words about something that happened last year as a means of illustrating how anxiety can drive a person to do very bizarre things. Even significant hardship can be easier to deal with than out of control anxiety.

Caution: possible disturbing content.

Unfathomable as it may seem to some readers, this is a true story.

I won’t go into the details, but in the Spring of 2010 my home life had become so stressful, so full of constant anxiety and panic, that I left and was living in the woods. I will say only this: at that time I was renting the home in which I now live, so I didn’t have ultimate control. It was early Spring. The snow was gone but grass had not really started to grow much and leaves were just emerging on the trees. I had been feeling anxious and panicky for a long time and it finally reached a point where I began actively planning to end my life. In a moment of relative calm I realized I had options. So I threw a few things in my Jeep Cherokee and headed off into a remote forest area. I had no real idea what the plan was at that moment, other than to escape to better circumstances in order to be able to formulate a plan. It is probably worth noting I live very near a large, mostly untamed “multiple use forest”. Uses include logging and recreation. There are hundreds of square miles of wilderness with only dirt and gravel logging roads here and there.

I didn’t have money for a motel room or apartment. It wouldn’t have made any difference if I did. I was absolutely too anxious and panicky to deal with people at the time. So I did what I could to protect myself, and that meant heading for the hills (literally).

I did have prior experience camping and hiking, so having only an open camp fire for heat and cooking was not a first time experience. It was cold at night but days were pleasantly warm. There was a lake nearby for bathing and washing clothes, but the water was very cold! Food was an immediate concern as I had only been able to take a few things with me. Fortunately I did have rope and string, which combined with rocks, sticks and other forest bounty could be used to fabricate traps for small game such as squirrels (sorry animal lovers, this was a question of survival). Despite prior outdoor experience, this was by no means an easy existence. Squirrels and other small game are not stupid, nor do they have poor reflexes! Trapping them with string, rocks, and sticks is no trivial task. Even with skill it takes luck. I knew the basic methods, but had never done this before so food was scarce.

I was busy trying to figure out how to sustain this style of living long term if I didn’t come up with a better plan. It dawned on me that my anxiety had such an evil grip I couldn’t even be a normal homeless person! No living in a city alley for me. No begging or scavenging trash bins for food. No shelter in an abandoned building or under a bridge. No way! I couldn’t be around people! My version of homeless would have to be living in these remote areas, taking sustenance from whatever nature provided.

It took only a few days to come up with a plan. If the plan didn’t work I supposed I would just become permanently homeless! I don’t own a cell phone, but somehow I’d had the presence of mind when throwing things in the Jeep to bring a cordless phone. Late one night I drove back “home” to be within range of the phone’s base unit in order to make a call. Pay phones were not even an option due to my anxiety! The phone battery had gone dead from being away from the charger too long, but thanks to my radio and electronics hobby I was able to improvise a crude means of powering it from flashlight batteries. So at 2:30 in the morning, I was wandering around in the darkness carrying a cordless phone with two flashlight batteries taped to it, trying to dial a number in near zero light conditions (my flashlight batteries were busy powering the phone). I had to count buttons on the keypad with my finger to know which was which. The plan failed that night, as my anxiety turned to sheer panic over making the phone call and I was not able to complete the task.

I made another attempt the next night and somehow succeeded. So there I was at 2:30-ish in the morning, hiding in some bushes near my “home”, talking to some kind person on the other end of a mental health crisis line while in a semi-coherent state from panic, vomiting at frequent intervals from the stress and passing out at least once. The precise details are something of a mystery, as the terror of the situation (talking to a stranger on the phone) prevented much of the encounter from being committed to memory. That call saved me from being homeless for the long term. A meeting with a crisis worker was set up for a convenient and somewhat safe outdoor location.

The crisis worker whisked me away for a three day stay at a quiet motel, where the staff had strict instructions to not disturb me for any reason. It was extremely stressful, but not as much as going “home”. Despite it was now the weekend and he was not on duty, that worker came out to see how I was doing every day. He got me set up with a case manager. Since I had to wait some days for the initial meeting with said case manager, I returned to my cozy little remote corner of the forest to wait.

I spent my days exploring possible walking routes to town. I didn’t know how events would play out but I did know I would soon be out of gas and wanted some means of getting into town if the need arose. It was 50 miles from town to my campsite by road, but only about 10 to 12 miles in a direct line. I walked many miles of long abandoned logging roads, snowmobile and ATV trails. I never did find a workable route. Every former road and trail was blocked by hazardous water obstacles at some point. I walked many miles a day for several days, never seeing or hearing another human the whole time.

I drove back to civilization (or what passes for it around these parts) on the morning of the appointment with the case manager. That appointment was also set for a convenient outdoor location since that is all I could manage with my anxiety level at the time. My Jeep was all but out of gas. I had enough to get back to my little campsite, but would not be able to return from there again if something wasn’t done that morning. I had no money. Even if I had it wouldn’t have helped since there was no full service station in town and I was absolutely unable to deal with self serve. Fortunately this diligent case manager had my tank filled so I could return a few days later for our next meeting.

The tenuous transition back to residing in an actual building happened soon after, though things were not easy at first. A process was set in motion which would result in home becoming home again, and also to transition ownership of the residence to me. For the first time in my life I would have real control over my living environment.

Seeing the struggle I had just to survive and do everyday things, the case manager in turn set me up with daily living support services. Through a combination of services, I have been able to get some of my physical health problems addressed; have learned to buy gas at some self serve stations; learned to use a debit card at some stores; have become able to deal with some phone calls some of the time; have become able to shop (with cash) at some smaller stores. All things that were completely impossible before. But, I need to make a lot more progress just to be able to stay out of crisis in the future.

Yesterday was a busy day. I had an hour and a half getting even more uncomfortable with the new case manager in the morning. I spent most of the afternoon with my daily living support services worker and had a session with my therapist.

It is clear I am now completely overwhelmed, frustrated, and angry about my current situation. The warm season is almost over and I have not accomplished any of the things on my summer to do list. I am running out of time. I have made no progress on home repair and renovation. I haven’t had the septic tank pumped and inspected. I haven’t had the furnace cleaned and serviced. All of this, naturally, is due to anxiety and panic. Although I have been trying for months, I simply cannot manage the phone calls required to initiate action on any of these issues. As a result I still don’t have a solid estimate of how much money I will need for these things (or the dental work if it happens), which is very unsettling.

Despite the financial uncertainty, I have made a major decision. I’ve been without a vehicle now for three months. My plan is to live this way for whatever time it takes to get my home fixed up. The budget won’t support that with the expense of owning and operating a vehicle. Until now, I have been holding a certain amount of funds in reserve for a vehicle purchase if this lifestyle gets too rough. I have now decided it’s “all or nothing” on my original plan, so I’m going to go ahead and spend those reserves on home repairs. It is a risk since I’m only guessing at the amount of other expenses coming up in the near future, but it is a risk I have decided to take. I’m doing this with full knowledge that winters will be much tougher.  I will have to walk to town for all my errands vs. riding the bike. I also lack a firm plan on the few out of town things that must be done, but so be it. I’ve decided to take a risk. I will either sink or swim.

Taking a risk like that is totally out of character for me, but getting the house fixed up is a really big thing. Everyone says I shouldn’t be ashamed of the condition of my home, but I am. I don’t even try to make friends, in part because I’m horrified to have anyone come here and see how I live. I’ve had all I can stand of this. I will get this place on its feet or die trying! I estimate it will take three to five years depending on other unforeseen expenses and fluctuation in prices of materials. That is a long time, but better now than later. I’m 47 and still in good enough physical shape to stand the rigors of the walking, bike riding lifestyle.

As a result of this decision, I have expanded my 2011 home repair “to do” list from the absolutely critical to something a bit more involved. I think I have enough money to cover this, a new septic tank, and my share of the dental work (if it happens). I can only hope I am right.

Of course, this assumes I will find a way to get building materials despite my anxiety about the procurement process itself. My case manager proposed a second plan for this yesterday, which absolutely won’t work. As before I was unable to explain that it won’t work so I will have to find my way out of it later. Having realized how much this home situation is stressing me, my daily living support services worker also proposed a plan of attack. This one shows real promise. We are going to try to do this next week, barring anything throwing that off track (such as complications from Hurricane Irene, which seems to be headed this way).

I spent much of today climbing antenna towers, inspecting and securing things as a precaution in case Irene stays intact enough to bring damaging winds this far inland. Chances are it will be nothing, but it’s worth a day of implementing precautionary measures just in case. I hastily ordered some special rope for this project earlier this week. Thankfully It arrived this morning. Guess who claimed the shipping carton within seconds after I removed the contents? Any box left unguarded is a new bed! The fact he is larger than the box doesn’t seem to bother him.

For those perhaps just joining and having not read all the way back to the beginning, I should like to point out this is not intended as a mechanism for complaint or whining. I am very well aware my life could be much worse! In fact I was and remain very hesitant to openly share my daily struggles, especially in light of the fact I have made this easy for those who visit my hobby web site to find. That is one group in which I have, until now, maintained a certain measure of apparent normalcy.  I have many on air and on-line ham radio friends whom I have never met and a few I have met but who know little or nothing of my condition. It is a great risk going public with this. There is no way to predict how readers will react. I may find myself disconnected from the one group wherein I have always felt acceptance. But it was acceptance based on omission of fact, which is tantamount to false pretenses. I’m tired of pretending to be someone I’m not.

It is only in recent years, thanks to on-line forums and groups, I have come to realize there are many struggling with the same issues. Most suffer in silence. It appears to me anxiety and panic disorders may be one of the least talked about of mental illnesses. For the most part, those afflicted with these conditions are sane, intelligent, caring people who simply cannot turn off or control unwarranted fear and panic responses in everyday situations. Of course no two people experience it in exactly the same way. There is a wide range of anxiety disorders, and all can range from mild to extreme. Nevertheless, it is hoped writing about my own life experience will give a voice to these conditions overall, to shed, perhaps, some small measure of light on the subject. If so, then the risk and whatever consequences arise will have been worthwhile.

Some would have us believe all anxiety disorders are easily curable or at least manageable. Often I have seen this assertion in the media. I’m not sure exactly where I stand on that. Clearly I am neither cured nor managing my illness after decades of trying. There seem to be others who have failed to show marked improvement despite having tried whatever remedies were available to them. The vast majority do seem to improve and go on to lead relatively normal lives after seeking treatment for these conditions. So what is it with those few who do not? What sets us apart? I don’t know. It could be we just haven’t found the right doctors, the right help. Or it could be there are some cases which are treatment resistant, not responding to medication, therapy, etc. I don’t claim to have those answers. I want out of the virtual prison which has confined me these many years. I will continue to seek a means to freedom as long as I continue to breathe. But meanwhile I will share my story in hope that some good may come of it.

This morning I was thinking about my last post and how totally absurd all this must seem to those who haven’t struggled with this condition. It even seems absurd to me. That one could be so limited by anxiety and panic that it takes months to learn a few very basic skills is beyond one’s ability to comprehend. How is it that one simple act such as walking into an unfamiliar store can trigger intense anxiety and even panic? Yet I cannot begin to count the times such a simple thing has led to panic so severe as to result in momentary loss of consciousness and collapse, to be followed by days of tormenting emotional and physical after-affects. People are able to understand physical, tangible ailments. But this defies belief and comprehension. Logic does not apply.

Today is one of those very unsettled days. I have been unable to stay focused on any task for more than a few minutes. I find myself wandering from task to task without intending to. Or even, it seems, without being fully aware of it. My mind is troubled by thoughts I try to suppress, but no distraction seems adequate today. I am increasingly bothered by not having seen my mom or dad in several months and not knowing if I will ever see them again. I am struggling with the fact I cannot grant my dad’s last request. I suspect I will be dealing with those issues long after they leave this world.

I’ve been trying to finalize a list of materials I need in case by some miracle I am able to take advantage of tomorrow’s opportunity. Everywhere I look I find the problems have worsened since my last inspection. Bats have invaded the attic through holes left by rotting wood. Mice and bats have invaded the porch/storage area in a similar manner. This is getting intolerable! I am constantly aware that I am running out of time, both in terms of getting to these issues while they are still reasonably repairable, and in terms of weather opportunity. I have only a few weeks of moderate temperatures for roofing and painting tasks. If I miss this window, another winter of melting snow and constant water infiltration will exact a heavy toll. Despite the urgency of the situation and intense desire to tackle these repairs immediately, I find the outlook less than promising. The slightest thought of actually going out and buying materials sends me into panic. As a result my body is completely out of order. I cannot eat today without violent and uncomfortable consequences. Ah, life as usual.

Tonight I officially turned down an offer of financial aid for a project that is very important to me. Without going into detail (I’m trying to keep this blog non-technical) it is a communications system I own. It facilitates routine and emergency preparedness radio communication in the area, allowing small portable two-way radios to communicate over longer distances by automatically relaying the signal. It’s something I established in 1997 as a service to others. It has been one small thing I could contribute to the world. It needs some maintenance which I am ill equipped to afford. I turned down the offered assistance because my life is too unstable. I can’t accept money to maintain something that may or may not exist in a year, or two, or three. The future of that system is tied to my own, and I have no idea what that future will be at this point. Turning down that offer was like taking a sledgehammer in the stomach, but I had no choice.

I feel like I’m running out of time and options. Medication has never yet done anything but make my situation worse. Maybe something new will be discovered eventually, but for now that doesn’t seem to be an option. I am learning to do things I never could before through the case management and daily living support services, but progress is too slow. This is a time limited opportunity. I’m starting to have serious doubts about coming out of this with the ability to maintain a minimum necessary level of function for independent living.

What have I really gained in these 15 months? I can now use a debit card to buy gas at two specific places. Now that I buy gas very seldom (for yard machines) it remains to be seen whether I retain that new ability or not. I can use a specific debit card to buy food at two stores. I can make cash purchases at two, maybe three smaller stores that would have sent me into total panic before. I’m able to answer the phone more often but still not doing well with outgoing calls. Some of my physical health issues have been resolved, while others have been relegated to the “nothing I can do about it” category. While I am grateful for these tastes of freedom, these things are not enough. I need a far broader range of function to stay out of crisis.

I’m starting to regret becoming a homeowner. I can finally control my living environment which is critical for me. But now I have no means of obtaining materials to work on the place. My new case manager offered help. He thinks we are going to the local building supply place this week but I don’t see that happening. I’m very anxious just talking to him in my own home. I can’t begin to imagine going out in public with someone I’m that uncomfortable with. It’s not his fault, as I mentioned previously. The worst part is I can’t even tell anyone this new person is not a good fit for me. Today my daily living support services worker offered support with the problem of getting building supplies. It remains to be seen whether we come up with a plan that works.

Today I am terrified. There is no other word for it. I’m shaking. I can’t eat. It is extremely difficult to focus. Breathing takes effort.

A few hours ago I got word that transportation arrangements have been made for an appointment with my therapist next Wednesday. For the first time I will be using a service that provides transportation to medical appointments for the disabled and elderly. They use minivans or very small buses. Even though my daily living support services worker will be going with me, I’m still terrified of being confined in a small space with people I don’t know. It would be OK if everyone would just keep their mouth shut and not talk to me! But they won’t. People never do.

I really need to learn to do this. In May I gave up owning a vehicle in order to have money for much needed repairs to my home. In order to take care of the most serious issues I will need to be without the expense of a vehicle for one to two years. My hope is to extend that to three years or more and also take care of some renovations that are not mandatory but would make life and home more comfortable. But I do need to be able to get to medical appointments and this transportation service is my only option. Within the next several months I need to not only learn to be OK riding in the van with strangers, but with making the phone calls to schedule rides. What could be more nightmarish?

I want to get my home fixed up probably more than I have ever wanted anything in my life. The only way that can happen is making this plan work. No matter how much I want something, success is by no means certain.

Of course that isn’t the only hurdle. Even if this works and I am able to remain without a vehicle, there is the problem of how to get building supplies. A simple phone call now and then to order them would do it, but then no phone call is ever simple. They are are the stuff of which severe panic attacks are made!