........on the road AGAIN !!!!

I had virtually no contact with the outside world. Your underwear and shoes are just about the only thing you have access to. Oh, I am kidding, of course, but you get the gist, I am sure. Heck, the last facility I had the pleasure to visit last February made you use crayons for fear a pen may be too dangerous. I was in the dark about what was happening anywhere to anyone outside the walls I was behind. At the end of about three and a half weeks, insurance said I had to go -seems reasonable since now I had no insurance – remember Ed walked away from his job. If you ever have to deal with the mental health community, and God, I pray you never do. You will find out it is insurance that actually dictates your stay. Heather and Krista being in Florida and Ed MIA (missing in action), I had to call my estranged brother to take me home.

If I had not mentioned it earlier, Ed was totally in charge of our finances. That was normal behavior for me because that is the way it was with Rich. My brother, to his credit, did pick me up and take me home. As we pulled in the driveway of my house, something felt terribly wrong. The empath in me was in high alert. I felt this deep dread in my gut almost to the point of nausea, which could reasonably keep me from walking through the front door. This was one time I was glad that we never locked our doors. I would have no idea where to find the damn key.

My brother and I had been estranged for several years, but he was really my only option to get home from the hospital. That forty-five-minute ride to Lago Vista from Austin was one long ride. It was silent, and you could have cut the tension with a knife between us. I certainly did not want to impose on him for any amount of time. I unloaded what little I had with me and headed for the door. I stood and watch him pull out of my driveway and was thinking just how sad it was that we had no relationship at all. That feeling of dread I was experiencing was so strong it was overtaking all my thoughts. I turned the doorknob and low and behold, it was locked. Nothing happened as I turned and pushed, over and over again, to no avail. For some reason, my eyes noticed something else strange. It looked like they were brand new locks on the door. The locks apparently have been changed – my mind was spinning – something must be terribly wrong. I ran around to the back door to find the same situation. The way the house was laid out, access to any window was not an option for me.

I had no idea how terribly wrong things really were. I remember crouching down against the house. I was on the verge of tears and about at that Panic Attack stage. My heart pounding, I can not get air, I could feel the sweat running down my forehead. I was desperatly trying to make sense of things, but it was impossible. If you never have had a panic attack, here is a glimpse at one

Panic attacks typically begin suddenly, without warning. They can strike at any time — when you're driving a car, at the mall, sound asleep, or in the middle of a business meeting. You may have occasional panic attacks, or they may occur frequently. Panic attacks have many variations, but symptoms usually peak within minutes. You may feel fatigued and worn out after a panic attack subsides.

Panic attacks typically include some of these signs or symptoms:

Sense of impending doom or danger

Fear of loss of control or death

Rapid, pounding heart rate

Sweating

Trembling or shaking

Shortness of breath or tightness in your throat

Chills

Hot flashes

Nausea

Abdominal cramping

Chest pain

Headache

Dizziness, lightheadedness, or faintness

Numbness or tingling sensation

The feeling of unreality or detachment

Out of the corner of my eye, my attention was drawn to a letter-size piece of paper. Being in that entire state of confusion, you wouldn't think I would be tempted to even look at it, but I did. I just had to; it was staring me in the face. It was not a friendly, neighborly letter greeting me back home. It was not left by Ed telling me where the new keys were. It was a FORECLOSURE LETTER addressed to myself and Ed.

The area we lived in was a neighborhood that the houses were like an acre apart. (Oh, FYI for all you youngsters out there, cell phones were not widely used until around 2000.) I believed my car keys were inside that locked house somewhere. The nearest phone booth was miles away. Does anyone remember what a phone booth use to look like? LOL My only option was to see if one of my neighbors where home. The whole situation was devastating enough without having to bare my soul to a neighbor that was not exactly a close friend. I put on my big girl panties and marched about half a mile to see if I could find someone to help me find some clarity as to what was going on. Don't forget, I was a master of deception when it comes to my moods. I was I going to smile my way through this? Is there a cool joke I could pull out and use in a pinch. My neighbor was amiable, and I do not think I fooled her much, but she was gracious and did not pry too deep. The EVICTION NOTICE at least had a contact number, and fortunately, it was a weekday, at least maybe I could reach a live person.

I can not begin to tell you how crazy I felt like I was stuck in a nightmare and could not wake myself up. I dialed the number to our Mortage Company. Out of the norm, I was connected to a woman with excellent customer service skills. I am sure I was rattling on and on about the whole situation, trying to fit 8 years into a 10-minute conversation. What she proceeded to tell me was first – the mortgage had not been paid in over six months. Ed had also purposely flooded the whole bottom level of the house. He had intended to cut and run with the insurance check. What Ed forgot was he could not just be handed payment to repair the damage. It had to be taken over by the insurance company to have the repairs done. Ed did not get a dime; the universe has a sense of humor. I am sure the nice lady on the other end of the phone was thinking to herself. "Man, this woman is clueless," and that was probably the polite part of the conversation with herself. Truth be told, I was Clueless only clueless to what was I going to do now.

At this point, I was in the anger phase that I did not handle well in my entire life. I wanted to find that SOB (son-of-a-bitch) and kill him. That thought had crossed my mind many times before then, I would turn my anger inward. Anger has always been a taboo emotion for me. I never wanted to show anger. Anger, after all, is the underlying emotions of depression.

"Anger is an emotional response to a situation. Feeling angry is no more harmful than feeling happy; it takes your brain only 100 milliseconds to have an emotional reaction to something. It takes the next 500 milliseconds for the cortex of our brain to recognize that reaction [source: Johnson]. It's how you respond to feeling angry that matters. You could express it outwardly (you tend to let your feelings out), or you could express it inwardly (you tend to bottle your feelings up)." Seems for me my bottle was full to the brim. When anger is outwardly expressed, you might be aggressive or violent. When anger turns inward, you might be excessively self-critical and suffer from low self-esteem. Maybe Alexander Pope summed it up best when he said, "to be angry is to revenge the faults of others upon ourselves."

Anger turned inward is depression.

I made arrangements to met the foreclosure company to get into the house and see what I was up against inside. I can not remember where I spent the next couple of nights. Then the day I met the mortgage company at the house was another one of those (I could never imagine days). As good as I was at hiding emotion, this was getting beyond my control. He opened the door, and the first thing that hit me was the smell that flooded out the door into the fresh air. OMG, what was that smell? It did not take long for me to see what it was. Remember, Ed had totally flooded the lower level of the house. He had salvaged nothing in the waters way. The smell of mold, rotten food, nasty wet clothes, and furniture overtook everything in the place. I was told I could take any personal things I wanted with me. That was it; my emotions finally broke loose, and the tears flooded over me. There was that embarrassment of somehow feeling weak and worthless. My only thought was, ("Why did God hate me so much?). Was it something I had long forgotten, was it the abortion I would never forget. Maybe there really was no forgiveness. Take what I wanted, are you kidding me? Everything was soaked, photo albums, clothes, some of my most treasured possessions damaged beyond repair. I was able to locate my Camero's keys, but most everything else was not worth salvaging.

What do I have left besides my two girls and my Camero (that beautiful car she was white with red interior), what a beauty she was. It looks to me like I was going to be on the road to Newport Ritchie, Florida. The trip alone to Florida was 18 hours on a good day. I had never made a trip like that by myself. As I pulled out of my driveway for the last time, it hurt was so profound to see once again there I was a failure !!!

My anxiety and depression were in constant competition for the first place. To me, it always felt like being that hamster on that proverbial wheel. I could never have just one or the other; depression and anxiety were that wheel, never-ending just round and round.

All my efforts to locate Ed before I left Lago Vista were futile. I had heard through the grapevine that he was shacked up with the prostitutes downtown Austin. Really I have no idea why I was even looking. Old habits die hard; I can definitely testify to that. I was very apprehensive about leaving in the first place. I sort of got the vibes that Dan and Heather were not crazy about me coming to stay there. It wasn't anything they said or did; it was just my insecurity once again. I think they were so afraid Ed would find out where I was and come there.

Somehow I just drove straight through. Not even sure, I took on any nourishment along the way. My tunnel vision was in a hyper-vigilant mode. I had not taken a lot with me; after all, there wasn't much left to take as it turned out. I had to walk away from my once beautiful home now, looking like a demolition site. I could not allow my mind to totally grasp the whole situation.

At some point, I arrived at Heather's, I'm sure in not so good a shape. Don't forget, most everyone around me never really did comprehend what my life with these diseases was really like. To them, I was the tough guy, the life of the party, the fun person to be around. The person to step in and solve all the internal problems. How in hell was I going to carry on that pretense? I was not sure I could dig deep enough to find a front to pull this one-off. I had come to a conclusion, throughout the years, that my need to never let any frailty show was a gift from my mother. That is for another time but let me put it this way – she was not my biggest fan.

So let us jump ahead, say approximately 3 months or so. I had settled into Heather and Dans. I had also taken on a new friend – ALCOHOL. It is a mystery that I only had a few periods that alcohol was any part of my life. I had no doctors in Florida to help with depression or my awful anxiety. I am betting that alcohol was not precisely the best thing for me. Still, it was easy to come by in a household into partying. I remember one night as I sat at the kitchen table (I can't remember where everyone was at), but I was on a mission.

Heather had managed to salvage 1 photo album from the house before they left. I had tons that were never found. White Russians were on the menu that night. As I was looking through the pictures, the devil climbed on my shoulder. I will put the blame on that damn devil that night. It had to be because it was so out of character for me to do what I was about to do. I took every damn picture with Ed in it and cut his face out of sight. Oh, but that was not good enough yet. I started a fire in the middle of the table and burnt every one of his faces. I have to admit that at the time, boy did it feel good. I must admit that I had a form of buyers remorse come morning.

I totally removed any representation of Ed that later in life Krista would ever have of her Father. If you deal with mental health issues and you engage in such behaviors, I'm sure you can relate to the gnawing, the stubborn, and heavyweight of guilt lt gives you. It's guilt that can lead to self-doubt or even self-harm. For me, guilt sparks insecurity, indecision, and even poor decisions. Guilt colors my choices and my conversations, and I'm always second-guessing myself. There have been numerous studies as to why people with depression respond differently to guilt than people without depression. I am not sure anyone has reached an exact conclusion on that.

It is terribly hard to hide your depression and anxiety around people. Be they friend or foe, they just can not really have genuine empathy for you. It is not their fault, you know. To me, what I have found is that genuine compassion and empathy only can come when you have walked in that person's shoes. It is like that old maid nurse that stands at your bed while you are about to give birth. She tells you how she totally understands what you are going through. She tells you how women have done it every day since the beginning of time. "Just breathe, and you will be fine," as every reflex in your body wants to coldcock her. When in reality, she has never felt what you are feeling right then.

Even though I was residing in my daughter's home, it was not comfortable for me. It was not anything they did; it was my own self-loathing that I had to be there in the first place. I wasn't supposed to be living off of them; it was supposed to be the reverse in the real world. Being eaten from the inside out by emotion is so exhausting. To this day, Heather and I have never sat down and discussed that whole period in time. Another habit I was good at is Avoidance. I always thought that if you avoided something, it would just magically be gone. Do not take that as advice from me; it does not just disappear.

Life wasn't all doom and gloom. I am known to do off the wall things. Not long after I settled in, I was out and about and happened to run into a pet shop. I am a huge animal fan, and I thought maybe I could find something to cheer me up. I am not a big fan of pet stores that sell puppy mill dogs and kittens, but I figured I would take a look. Maybe at least listen to the birds sing or watch the cute little creatures running on their wheel like in my world. Out of nowhere, I locked eyes with this cutest little black and white creature. There was my distraction, a SKUNK. I proceeded to have a conversation with a sales clerk, and as you can guess, my skunk and I left the pet shop together that day. What that clerk failed to tell me is that skunks are nocturnal. That clerk told me that his scent gland had been removed (the skunks not his), but like everything else right about, then the clerk lied. No one could sleep at night while (I forgot his name) ran wild through the house. I have no idea how long that distraction lasted, but I have a feeling it was not long. Whatever happened to that damn skunk anyway? I forget where the skunk went but oh, how I remember the morning my Camero was no longer in the driveway. Yep, the REPO Man gave me a visit, and my transportation now was also gone.

As with a lot of things in my life, the timeframe here really has eluded me. I know it was not a real long time till Ed surfaced via telephone. There Ed was; I immediately froze and was at a loss for words. Ed proceeded to tell me he was in Corpus Christi Medical Center. My first thought was what the hell kind of bullshit was he trying to pull now. Ed's story was that they had found Testicular Cancer. They were sending him to Houston, Texas MD Anderson Cancer Center. Oh sure, you bet, I was not buying this one this time. He had a motive he always did, and besides, Ed had ripped everything from me; what could he possibly want from me now?

Stick with me the next time I will tell you just precisely what Ed wanted and what I did about it. As you can probably guess, my mental state was in no better shape than the day it was over with Rich and me. I had apparently not learned one damn thing all those years.

“There is more stupidity than hydrogen in the universe, and it has a longer shelf life.” ― Frank Zappa