I know why the caged bird sings.

Phobias are not fears: 

From an early age I had fears that were somewhat irrational, mostly because there was no trigger, no basis in reality.  So, technically, I had phobias.

Very young, I developed a phobia of snakes.  Even typing that word just now, is extremely difficult.  I would check under the bed, then in the sheets, over and over ... I have no idea where this came from.  Its quite possible I saw a movie, TV show, read a story, overheard someone speak about them in some derogatory way and my subjective brain took over and I deemed snakes something to dread.  

When I was 8, my parents separated.  Suffice it to say, it wasn't an amicable, lets do what's best for the kids, kind of separation and divorce. *blog note:  I feel horrible writing that and know how badly my mom feels about how things transpired and I'm sure she wishes things were different.  OK, back to the story.... It was at this time that my mom and I took a bus to Orlando because my grandfather was very ill.  I remember being in the bathroom at their house, that had a sliding door with that little latch lock.  It got stuck; and there in that bathroom in Orlando I had my first out of body full blown panic attack.   It didn't just scare the shit out of me... but, my mother and grandmother, who had no idea what to do, were also freaked out.

BTW: in case someone you know and remotely care for has one of these attacks... don't stand as far away as possible from them with a look of terror and disgust on your face.  No matter how you're feeling about it and them, hold them and assure them that even if you don't understand, that you care for them.  

So, there it was.  Out of the blue, I experienced something that sadly, would define me.  

During my parents lengthy divorce, my father lived for a short time in the penthouse of a highrise on the inter-coastal.  Again, I am unaware of an exact trigger, but like a switch going off, I suddenly couldn't enter the elevator anymore.  

As the years went by, I avoided elevators, walking up sometimes insane amounts of flights of steps to get to events ... turning down life changing things like the owner of Benihanas - Hiroaki "Rocky" Aoki - who I worked for, for a short time long long ago, and became friendly with, offered to send me to NY to be in a band with his daughter.  NY, with all the high rises?  ummm no thanks.

You can gather from that, basically get a gist of how fear has guided my life, thus far.  That's just a miniscule snippet.  The list of avoided opportunities is quite long.

Most especially my acting dreams and desires.  :(   And more sadly, what I've allowed to become of relationships, on all levels.  And the worst ... my health and maintenance of it.

After therapy didn't make a dent, I went down to Miami Elevator Co. and learned every aspect of how an elevator worked.  I thought, my fear would subside if my ignorance of the thing I feared did too.

Nope.

This is when I concluded that it wasn't really the elevator that I feared at all.  How could I possibly fear an object that didn't actually pose a real threat to me.... well, aside from making me be stuck inside of it (which would be really really bad)  OR a cable breaking, making me plummet to me squashy death... but, how often really, unless you're in a movie (usually with Keanu Reeves in it) at the time, does this truly happen?   Hardly ever!   So, the fear can't really be the elevator.

My conclusion was that something triggered an emotion that I couldn't handle, something I needed to lock away.  I threw it into the elevator, closed the door, and never wanted to go in there ever again.

Now I spend a great deal of my time trying to find the key that will unlock that elevator and the part of my mind that couldn't cope.  Unlock it and face whatever it is in there.

Sadly, though, phobias (when not addressed) spread like a disease.

The fear of elevators continued to other closed in spaces, like airplanes.  Any place that I couldn't escape and use my fight or flight reflexes.  

Then large shopping malls... or any facility where you have to venture far from your escape... the front door and car.

I learned to live for many years with this 'quirk'  and although my friends and family rolled their eyes and thought I was weird, I was still a part of life enough and experiencing enough, where it wasn't a huge hindrance or issue. 

Having anxiety and panic attacks cause a real physical issue to transpire.   For a long time, I accepted them as a part of my existence and worked through them.  After all, they couldn't harm me, they were only feelings triggered by thoughts, that would pass.    Until....

Illness.  Ongoing, unrelenting, illnesses....

The sicker I got, the worse my actual physical issues grew, the worse my emotional and mental ones grew.
Lets face it, it didn't help that I haven't really ever been properly diagnosed, and the things I've gone through medically have been pretty nightmarish, a lot of the time.  Maybe on another blog I'll do a medical history.  I know you're saying, oooooh yippee, fingers crossed that happens.   NOT.   OK, back to story...   

Then I lost my best friend, my dog T.   I went into a huge depression and started smoking again when she died.  This led to some breathing issues.... leading to more anxiety.   But, I was no quitter.  I maintained and sustained this destructive behavior through a horrible relationship and then continued on up until 2 years ago when I finally quit smoking!  

Sorry, I got a head of myself... let me go back.

When I was out at the grocery store one day, in the check out line, my breathing suddenly stopped.  Full blown severe panic quickly took over.  I dropped all the items, ran to my car and thought it was the end.  

The breathing slowly came back, but my sanity didn't.   It was that moment that I noticed the fear and panic wherever I'd go.  And then avoidance.  I stopped going almost anywhere. The only place I would go, was a local sports bar that I frequented to play pool with my good friend, Jude.

But, eventually, even that proved too difficult and one day I just stopped leaving the house altogether.  

Oh, of course I tried to get help.   It's very hard for anyone to understand it.  I get that.  But, therapists only want to use desensitization on us and frankly, it just doesn't work.  

I can't tell myself that because I've done something 20 times in a row and the outcome was good, that on that 21st time it wont kill me or worse.  

I could no longer separate the feelings I was having from anxiety and from my real physical issues. They are both horrible and terrifying.  

This time, instead of throwing what I couldn't deal with, what was too overwhelming to me in a locked box.. I created that for the world and locked myself in to what I deemed to be my 'safe place.'

So my reaction was to avoid, be stagnant and not move.    

So, my friends... there you are.  I'm one of those true to life, actual agoraphobics.  A shut-in, if you will.  

For way too long now.  

I've watched a great deal of life pass me by, from inside my house.  

I have no words of wisdom here or offerings to others... I just wanted to come clean.  Speak my embarrassing truth.  Be honest about my reality right now.   Today, on the day that Maya Angelou died... when her words "I know why the caged bird sings"  reverberates in my head over and over ... I just wanted to tell you that I think I do know why it sings... and I understand it.  

"But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams

 his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream 

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied 

so he opens his throat to sing. 

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill 

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird sings of freedom."