Saturday, May 24, 2014

May 24, 2014: Anxiety and Grief to the Edge of Panic

In Limbo

I sit here, alone, looking out of the glass doors to my second floor back deck trying to calm myself from another attack of hard, angry emotions. The month of May has brought the trees and bushes that line our property into full leaf, hiding most of the world beyond from view. What it cannot hide is the huge pile of topsoil that towers over the high wooden side fence, behind the high lilac bushes and cedar tree. On top of the earthen berm sits the digging machine with it's bright yellow arm bent to lay the bucket upon the ground.

On the other side of the yard, through the trunks of evergreens and willows and a hedgerow of red dogwood, willow, blackberry and wild rose a long berm of broken rock runs the length of the property. The acreage, aside from the immediate area surrounding the duplex there, has become a storage site for the earth and rock that will be used in the 50 house building project that is eating up the area that has been our home for the last dozen years.

The first phase of the development is being built. Our property will be needed when it comes time for phase two to be constructed. That is currently scheduled to occur this coming October. It had been scheduled to happen last October. It is up to the developer when they will close on their option to purchase for our property. We are in Limbo, knowing only that the day will come when we will have to find a new home. 

Anxiety and Grief

I do not want to lose what was to be my forever home, but that is not an option. Every time I look out into my beloved yard it is difficult for me to not be hit with a wave of strong emotions for I know that this is all scheduled for destruction. The chances of our being able to ever again be able to live in such beauty. Here lies the work of my hands, my heart, and my soul. Here lies the graveyard of my beloved feline family, slated to be dug up and destroyed. I love this place so much that I cannot see ever finding another place where I will ever feel happy again. 

When I walk around my house I have been looking at all the things that are wrong with it, why we would be better off moving to a more "handicap friendly" house. I try to convince myself that what was my dream home is really just a money pit that we cannot afford to fix up, or to even live in any more. I tell myself that I do not need the things that have been collected up over the 40 years of marriage, of raising a family, or building a life. But I have no idea where we will end up, what will fit into wherever that may be. 

After spending the majority of the past two decades housebound, at best being able to spend time puttering in my beloved garden, my entire life is woven into my home. My human family is all but gone. I have my husband and of six elderly cats. My husband calls them my minions, even though he loves them as dearly as I. Four of the group had been dumped upon us by our kids, who have also berated me that we have too many cats. My artwork fills my home, the craftwork of my hands and heart. 

My house, my garden, my cats: My world. A world that I am going to lose. I just do not know when or how much I will be able to salvage.

Working with Nothing for a Future

I am afraid that the next person who implies that since we will be getting money from the sale of our property that we will be able to live anywhere that we want to may well end up feeling like they have been attacked by a buzz saw. What I want is the be left alone, in the house that was to be my forever home, with the repairs and upgrades needed to deal with the needs of my disabilities. 

As is, even with that money we will have we could not buy the least of the new houses being erected as part of the development being put up upon the site. We need to look at our long term needs as we are getting older. Security is a huge factor, security for now and for the future. I am very much afraid. Our household income limits our options greatly. Our retirement home is gone, that security is gone. After the mortgage is paid out, and the funds divided with out son for his share of the equity there really isn't that much left over to buy another home.

Where can we go? The choices are very limited. We have to be able to afford the home, wherever it may be. It needs to be handicap friendly. I need a place to garden. I need my cats. I need a place to park my mobility scooter. Hubby needs his workshop, a place for his bikes. We need a place that can be made into our "forever home". No condos. No strata. My old cats need me as much as I need them, I cannot abandon them any more than I could human dependants. The very idea of living in an apartment or condo sends me into a claustrophobic panic. (anxiety, confusion, hopelessness, panic, grief) Rental? Only if we use up our life savings, which we have put into the home we are losing.

Unless Hubby can secure a well paying, long term job in the immediate future we may be forced into a situation that I cannot see my ever recovering from. 

We may have to leave our home community of 30 years to find a place where we can afford to live humbly.

Attempting to Live-In-The-Now

One good thing about bouts of heavy brain fog is that living in the moment is about all that a person can accomplish. On the down side, living in the moment is about all that a person can accomplish. (confusion rules)

Live for today, for tomorrow we may lose it all. (anxiety, panic, hopelessness)

I have not been very successful at shutting out the anxiety causing parts of my existence. Grief has the strength to cut through almost anything. The only way to get through it is by going through it. Until I am not faced my every waking moment by what I am losing that grief has no possible resolution. 

To try to distract myself from the realities of life doesn't work too well when there is no way to get away from it. Not when the world is slowly crumbling and there is not the financial resources to cover daily needs let alone to fix and replace needed things as they break down. The old dying car, the broken down stove, the rotten stairs. There is only so much that can be done without. Only so much can be deferred until the house sale is finalized and there is money to pay the bills.

I am worn out by this endless insecurity. I spent all winter living out of my bedroom since we could not afford to heat the house, rationing the hot water because of the cost of heating it. Of going hungry and trying to keep hubby well enough fed so that he doesn't get sick. Of doing without comfort. Of being confined to the house because it is too expensive to put fuel into the car to drive across town to go to a beach or park. Because I cannot take a bus because of my disability even if I had the bus fare.

The now is a place of hopelessness.


  1. I am so sorry and I feel your pain. Words cannot comfort you I know, but I just needed to tell you that I hope and pray you find happiness again.