An old bugaboo comes back

Lately I've been having my fear of open spaces again--it's a bugaboo that has come and gone through most of my adult life.My doctor tells me I'm just not wired like other people, and my brother (a physician) thinks it's either a brain tumor or too much wine, but I know what it is. The classic definition of agoraphobia is "an abnormal fear of open spaces." I have been particularly aware of it this past week and wonder if it's not because I've been spending more time at home. I realize I could easily become a recluse, and then agoraphobia would close its tight circle around me. I've fought this battle before and will fight it again, but sometimes when I look at an open space it's like having a panic attack, thinking I can't do it. If I'm walking next to someone, I'm great and stride along with the best of them; if I work up a head of steam, walking along next to something, I can almost sail across an open space, but don't ask me to strike off cold across an empty parking lot.
It's been on my mind today because I went to breakfast with Jordan, Christian and Jacob, and as we left the house I said,"Wait for me. I may need an arm." Well, of course, I didn't--I walked next to Christian, down two sets of stairs, a short sidewalk and across a patch of grass laced with tree roots and did just fine. When we came home my neighbors were working in their yard and my neighbor, Greg, who takes care of my yard, was dividing iris and planting Mexican marigold and lamb's ear. Jordan stopped to talk with them, and I longed to but couldn't make myself step over the hose and down the walk alone. Then, when Greg was through, he asked me to come look, and I know he noticed that I stayed by the railing or the tall rosemary--anything I could grab on to. (I neither had my cane nor had taken anti-anxiety medicine, both of which make it better.) But I've been more conscious of it this week, which is not good--just makes me lose my confidence all the more.
Oh, I do go places alone--the groceries I like, the office, the drugstore, doctor's offices (well, some), places I'm familiar with. New territory is a lot worse. But tonight I went to visit Charles at Trinity Terrace, the assisted living facility. That trip was really hard for me at first--he's on the same corridor, same floor, where my mom died. A couple of times I took friends with me, but one day I gutted up and went alone, and now it's easy--even walking across the open area between the parking and the entrance. And was I glad I went--friends of his from the Unitarian Church were there. I was pleased to meet them, and we had a great visit, swapping stories. Charles started going to church there three or four years ago, and I have absolutely never seen a body of worshippers reach out to someone like they have to Charles. They visit, take him to lunch, take him to church, and fill his life.
I tell myself this too shall pass, and it will--it always has before. A big part of it, since it's stress-related, may be getting used to retirement. I just finished a big project and am ready to go back to writing my novel--but that's like a shot in the dark. Who knows if anyone will ever want to read it?
Okay, I'm going to quit being morose and go back to the British novel I'm reading. Tomorrow is a new day.

Diet Gone awry and other sundry problems

Today I had a wonderful lunch at Nonna Tata--a salad with corn kernels in it and just a bit of balsamic vinaigrette and braseola (the Italian beef version of proscuitto) dressed with lemon and olive oil and thin shavings of grana cheese. It was sided with a vinegary potato salad that I reallly like--so there went points for the diet. Tonight I had leftover filet of sole in a half sandwich with tomato and onion and then went back to finish off the bit of sole that wouldn't fit in the sandwich. And then, by gosh, I decided I was tired of being hungry and ate a piece of chocolate, thereby blowing my points for the day all to smithereens. I suppose it happens to everyone who diets, but I can't help equaiting my mid-day extreme anxiety to the diet, and I'm beginning to wonder if it's wise, notwithstanding the 5 lbs. I've lost.
This morning when I drove up to work, Sandy, one of the two insurance consortium peole who office in our suite, came out to give me a hand in--so thoughtful of her. And once she helped me up the step I walked confidently into the office. She'll never know how much I appreciate the gesture. But when I left for lunch, I went out the other door where the only "open space" is perhaps three feet from a stone wall to a railing--froze, couldn't do it, finally did. Struggled along the fence and then, with difficulty, down the step. Once on the ground, by cars and railing, I was just fine. Jean sat in her car and watched all this, then drove up behind my car--maybe four feet from it. I tried, couldn't walk that four feet, asked her to come get me, and she shook her head--"You can do it." Finally, she back up, drove closer, and of course I walked easily up to the car. It makes no sense, but I am very tired of it. The trouble going in and out of the office is clearly a sign, and the best I can do is laugh about it. Yes, Marcia, I ate a banana at 10:30--no nuts though.
A bright note: the man who has been doing my lawn told me he's going out of the lawn business. I am only partly sorry--I was paying him a lot of money, and he didn't do flower beds, didn't understand flowers, etc. Jay suggested that one of our neighbors (who has a beautiful back yard) does yard work, and so Greg came by tonight. I'm delighted. He told me what he'd do, what he charges (very resonable), and we agreed on native plants, etc. He has apparently watched my front yard as he walked his dog over the years and admird most aspects of it but knew what needed to be cut back, weeded out, etc. He's coming Friday, which couldn't be better because Jordan is bringing 22 women over for a book-signing late Friday afternoon.
Think I"ll go sit on the porch and read--and maybe blow the diet more with an extra glass of wine--and then I'll come in and work. I'm at a difficult part in my novel--but oh so near the end of the first draft. Much more work to be done.

Anxiety and a sense of humor

My anxiety problems come and go, and right now, after a period when I was soooo self-confident and walked across parking lots with ease, they've come back. Another name for the problem is agoraphobia, which as far as I can tell has two meanings: fear of fear (probably with me all my life, accounting for a dislike of flying, though I do it on occasion, a dislike of being in an elevator by myself), a pure avoidance of escalators, etc. But another is fear of open spaces, and that's what's tripping me up right now. I particularly have trouble getting from my house to the car in the garage and back again and also getting into my office, though like many phobics I have devishly clever ways of coping, circumventing, etc. But this time I am much more philosophical about the whole thing--I refuse to live my whole life this way, and I know it will pass, as it always does. My doctor tells me there's no accoutning for when it comes and goes, so I've tried to stop analyzing whether or not it's the dentist appt. in the morning or the lunchtime speaking engagement (actually I think I'll enjoy that). Since I once took a spectacular fall outside the dentist office, they know me and I only have to call and ask them to walk me in and out, and they're gracious. So I'm trying very hard not to take it seriously, not to let it dominate my thoughts, and to be honest about it. When Sandy, whose window looks out from our side of the office, asked why I went in the other door today, I explained that I'd had a panic attack going in the usual way the other day, and she seemed to take that just fine. So wish me luck, folks. I think this will be a mild attack, short in duration, and I'm optimistic. Meantime I'm coping. Now if I could banish those 6 a.m. thoughts!
Had lunch with two friends today who are both on Weight Watchers--it sure does make for conversation.Jeannie thinks my point limit is too low, but Jean says it's because I'm shorter than Jeannie. Anyway tonight I had a good supper and just barely stayed within my points for the day--half a sirloin pattie on rye bread with mayo and sliced tomato, and a salad made of the rest of the tomato, an avocado (the point killer, even though it's good for you), blue cheese (just a little) and lemon juice. My oh my, I did enjoy that, with a glass of wine of course (another point killer).
A working day. Got lots done at the office--writing contracts, etc., all acquisitions work that I enjoy. Plus the GooglePrint settlement keeps rearing its ugly head--and getting more confusing each time. Then came home to a desk full of projects, including promoting the cookbook. But I have a new novel idea kicking around in the back of my mind. Wrote a longtime friend about it today, just exploring, and he thought it was really good and could go places. So now I'm determined to finish the WIP (Sisters in Crime shorthand for work in progress) and get on with this new, totally different project that will require me to go back and research a lot of material I once researched thoroughly. But since I've been looking for a project that will engage me, this may be it. Moving on, I think, is always good.

Visiting and working

I spent probably 20 hours in Frisco this weekend, visiting Jamie and Mel, Maddie and Edie, and had a lovely time--good visits with the girls, though they are very self-contained and entertain themselves for hours, so sometimes adults don't see much of them. Sunday morning, Jamie went to work out, Mel and I both slept late, and it was eleven o'clock before the girls came downstairs. They'd been playing doctor, with Edie as the patient with a broken arm--Maddie is going to wear out that ace bandage, which she sometimes wraps around her own arm for effect. I had great adult visits though--talking politics separately with each of them (we all agree, but we can get vehement about our agreement). One highlight was that Jamie and I went to buy me a new Spring Instinct phone which does everything--phone, email, GPS, weather, voice reognition, camera, lots more than I ever thought I'd want. Then we spent much of the weekend setting it up (Jamie had lots of good laughs out of that and I won't embarrass msyelf with my technical lack of expertise) and teaching me to use it. We also went to a new grocery, Market Store, that is sort of a combination of an upscale grocery and a Central Market high end store. The produce and meat and seafood--lots of it organic and all very fresh--line the perimeter of the store, while the ordinary daily goods canned and dry goods are in the center. An hour and a half in the store passed quickly.
It was a wonderful weekend but as always I was glad to get home, though I detoured through Coppell. Jamie drove me there where Jordan and Christian were having dinner with his family. I came home with Jordan and Jacob, who'd eaten too much cake and chattered animatedly (and meaninglessly) most of the way.
From Saturday morning to late Sunday evening is not long and yet it seemed like I'd been away a long time. Unpacking, catching up with the animals--Sue had kindly taken care of them--catching up with email and the Sunday paper. Thanks goodness today was a holiday--I slept till 8:30 this morning, went to Central Market, and have been home working all day.
I'm rewriting again and sometimes wondering if I'll ever move forward or just keep rewriting. But I see where I'd gone amuck--one was to follow an editor's suggestion (without any promise of interest) to make the second novel the first. I tried hard to weave the back story into it, but I wasn't happy with the result, and Fred said the rewrite lacked the unity or coherence of my usual work. His other comment was that I was letting a subplot take over too much of the story. The problem was a famliar one to writers--I got so intrigued by one event that I let it take over. A designer friend of mine said she knew why a cover she was working on wasn't right--she was so determined to use one element, that it got away with the job. Once she discarded it, the cover worked. I'm hoping the same is true of me.
A friend, divorced after a long marriage, told me someone advised her to shoot her husband in his sorry ass. I laughed a lot--and saw it as the opening of a novel. It worked great, but then what did I do with that story in a novel about a serial killer? That's why I'm starting over. And each time I go through I see places where I can flesh the story out with more details, more description. Fred always tells me to stop hurrying through things, pointing out his wife likes the descriptions as well as the plot. He's write I do hurry--and if I'm not careful, I could write a whole novel in dialog. I did three chapters today, but I think I can only do two even on a good day. I begin to lose my edge.
Back to work tomorrow. A note of thanks to those who advised me to see a doctor about my balance and others who might have worried. I have done so, though I know very well it's part of my lifetime anxiety disorder--sometimes I can keep it under control and sometimes I can't. This time it has come out in the classic fear of open spacees--let me walk next to a walll, a line of parked cars, a person, and I'm fine--but don't ask me to cross an open parking lot alone. I have developed some coping skills (ways to avoid being confronted) but I know I have to face the problem and have taken steps to do that too. I appreciate your concern.