Tag: fear

Out With It: my phobia has a name

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I came to the computer ready to tell you something else, and then because of  blog posts from several friends, this week alone, I find the courage to discuss my problem in public…

Symptoms:

living my life within the walls of home.

inability to leave home without my husband or a friend in tow.

able to watch simply gorgeous days go by my window and never step foot outside to enjoy it.

going to a party down the street, bursting into tears and nearly fainting dead on the floor… the consequence of which left me feeling like an ass.

trying to go to the post office, or into the city for much-needed dr appointments, not being able to find a parking space, completely loosing it in the parking structure, having to go all the way back home to reschedule, and then never making the second appointment.

OR

going the dr and finding the parking space only to find out that the ticket machine wants exact change, the change machine is broken, the lady in the coffee shop won’t give you change even with a purchase,  your fingers have become too cold to work the automatic teller machine in the hospital across the street, you are coming unglued in public and everyone is staring at the old lady who is crying and can’t speak coherently to ask for help.  going back to the lady in said drs office, she finally acquiesces saying, “…even though I’m not supposed to!” and gives me a token so I can make my escape from the parking prison downstairs.

~~~ agoraphobia ~~~

The problem is taking its toll.  I start to do something fun and get excited about working on a project and just as quickly as I begin I suddenly loose steam and find myself unable to do the work. It is a physical lethargy that actually causes me to crumple and I can’t go on…

~~~ perfectionism ~~~

I recently told a blogger friend that:

“I find that my perfectionism desire is so strong that it causes me not to try, or I try and then set it aside and dream of making it perfect. My other sickness is not allowing myself to do the fun stuff because “I really should be doing something important around here.” Like housework, and laundry. Hence, the battle in my head rages and nothing gets done.

I feel like I am in a whirlpool and lack the strength to fight my way to the surface sometimes.”

My husband even does all the shopping.  He is very patient and I don’t know what I would do without him.

I tried to start up with a quilting guild and made it a few times because I knew I had a friend there from church… this lasted a total of about 3 visits and I couldn’t break inertia to go back.

For those of you who might wonder…  here are two things not to worry about:

  1. My animals get tended to and fed everyday.  I derive so much joy from them and love them too much to deny them care.
  2. I am not feeling so bad that I will hurt myself  (I know what you’re thinking, don’t go there, I’m not.)

~~~

Well, that was totally out of left field, but this has been going on for far too long.  So, if you are reading this and you are still with me, it means I pushed the post button and hope that my confession does not send you looking elsewhere for your reading enjoyment.

I promise not to post this here on the Farmlet again.

 

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Like Children at the Mall

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Interior of a typical department store. This i...

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I imagine that most of us have stories of getting lost in the mall or department store when we were young.  As children we were easily distracted from our parents warnings about getting lost, and could be stopped in an instant to look at the latest bright and shiny new toy.  Then looking up we suddenly felt fear, followed by tears, and finally the joy of being reunited with our parents…

Early this morning I went out to let the geese out of the barn and being in a hurry I did not want to make a return trip to freshen up their bed.   So instead I took the time to do it right then.  Grabbing  a flake of straw I quickly shook it out onto the remains of last nights damage.    It took all of about three minutes.  Then, walking out of the roll up door I see…

NOTHING.

Now the gate to the back yard and the path we take to the goose side of the world is about 20 paces.  Each and every day I have to convince Polly and company to actually pass through instead of stopping to eat the goosegrass that happens to be growing nowhere else on the Farmlet but there.

(Picture compliments of Aggie Horticluture, click the photo to be taken to the site and learn more than you ever wanted to know about this species)

 

And so it was, that I mistakenly counted on them running to the goosegrass to keep them preoccupied while I put the fresh straw into their bed.

Silly me.

Listening I hear them out front on the lawn.  They are busily grunting at each other and nibbling at some fresh new delight they have found.   I walk towards them, they move further away.  When advancing three more times produces the same results, I decide that divide and conquer is the best method.  Circling a wide berth around them I single out Polly.  Polly is so much more submissive and obedient than the Hueys.

Arms outstretched I heard her back around  to the gate and watch as she casts nervous glances over her wing at the disobedient Hueys.  She keeps waddling however and for her obedience I give her breakfast right away.  As I turn to leave I hear some terrified squeals from the front yard.  Seems that the Hueys have discovered they are lost!

I call to them, “Pip-PIP!”

Their reply in triplicate, “Honk-Honk-Honk –  HEEEAH!”  And although I can’t see them, I envision them running back round, wings outstretched, to find Polly and me.

Polly, on hearing the ruckus, has forgone eating for the moment and comes from behind the well house to find out what’s going on.  Seeing them from across the yard she runs to them, with neck outstretched, giving a scolding and sounding eerily and every bit like your mother when you were young!  The scolding elicits the same cries of relief and remorse from the Hueys, as similarly you’d have done on seeing and hearing the scolding mother gave.

When finally the scolding and remorse have subsided, the four of them turn to waddle into the goose yard and to their breakfast which is waiting.

That’s better!

~*~

Translation:  “HEEEAH” is the goose equivalent of a scream.  I think it is a sound that you would have to actually hear to appreciate.

The state of things.

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Yesterday I took a few lovely books over to my neighbor for her to share with her grandson.  Upon receiving them he began hugging me.

Grandma:  “He’s a hugger.”

I just stood there like a post…

Grandson:  “I was born real close to Valentines day and that’s why I love everyone so much.”  (paraphrased because I honestly can’t remember exactly what he said.)

It took me an embarrassingly long time to respond to his loving and normal display of gratitude on receiving my gift.

So what was that all about? 

Well you see, when I taught in California there were so many lawsuits going on involving teachers and inappropriate touch (more than one is too many!!!) that we were instructed NOT TO TOUCH OUR STUDENTS.  Those who did only touched the top of their little head, or their hands for proper instruction and help with holding a pencil.

This is all wrong.  Little kids need hugs and an appropriate show of affection from caregivers.  (And whether you know it or not your child’s teacher is a caregiver/stand in mother, protector, parapsychologist, as well as educator for your little darling)  😉  We do try to do it all and more each day and all without touching them for fear of being accused of inappropriate behavior.

It saddens me to realize how programmed I had become, and that the programming has persisted even into my retirement.

It makes me wonder is it just me?

OR…

Do all teachers feel/react like this nowadays?

Do parents worry about this kind of thing?

Do the students?

How has it come to this?

It makes me sad for the children.

Who’s that rattlin’ at my door?

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I’m sitting here alone and I hear a rattling of the front door knob…  it sounds like someone is trying to get in!!!  My heart is pounding as I tiptoe down the hall.  When I peak around the corner to see who might be there the dogs enter the living room, and taking a stance they stare at the door.  Watching the door handle moving we are all transfixed.  Bob just left for work and it’s just us at this early and dark hour of the morning!  Who’s there?

Suddenly the would be intruder jumps into view!

And there at my picture window is Little Bit.  She wants to be let in.  The dogs begin to whine and wag their tails as I, recovering from my near heart attack, go to the door and oblige her.

What a cat!

You see, I put a little belled ornament on the inside of the door handle at Christmas time because I thought it would be cheerful when visitors came calling.  I have since left it there, because she “rings” it to let us know she wants out.  I never taught her that, it was a spontaneous thing.  It happened once and we let her out and now she does it every time!  In fact, if you hear the bells and ignore her she will ring them again and come sit to watch you till you do let her out.

Maybe I should put a bell on the outside too… I think it would be a little less frightening than hearing the doorknob rattle.  Don’t you agree?