The Brockway Mountain Hermit's hut. Photo courtesy of Pasty.com
When I was a young child, growing up in the far north of Michigan's Upper Peninsula, I heard of a man who most people simply called "The Hermit." He lived in a cabin near the top of Brockway Mountain, close to the town of Copper Harbor.
I didn't know much about this man, except that he came to town once or twice a month to get groceries. To me, he seemed to be a man a mystery, and I was more than a little afraid of him. Others, who knew him by name, did not find him scary at all, and would provide rides back up the mountain and chat with him for awhile.
This man had a name and a history, which has been told by other writers. I tell his story here as a reference for the story of my own life and how and when I too became a hermit.
A hermit may also be called a recluse, or someone who suffers from agoraphobia. There are all kinds of reasons for preferring a life of solitude, "far from the madding crowd." Let's look at a few of those a little more closely, while I tell of my own journey to a hermetic lifestyle.
I didn't know much about this man, except that he came to town once or twice a month to get groceries. To me, he seemed to be a man a mystery, and I was more than a little afraid of him. Others, who knew him by name, did not find him scary at all, and would provide rides back up the mountain and chat with him for awhile.
This man had a name and a history, which has been told by other writers. I tell his story here as a reference for the story of my own life and how and when I too became a hermit.
A hermit may also be called a recluse, or someone who suffers from agoraphobia. There are all kinds of reasons for preferring a life of solitude, "far from the madding crowd." Let's look at a few of those a little more closely, while I tell of my own journey to a hermetic lifestyle.
The Hermit of Brockway Mountain
Photo of Bill Mattila courtesy of Pasty.com
Once upon a time there was a man who lived all alone on a mountain. His name was Bill Mattila, the mysterious man who lived on the mountain that overlooked my little town. He moved there in the spring of 1952, which was the year I was born, and lived there for thirty-two years. So I grew up watching him walk down the street to the grocery store and hearing the stories from other people who took him home when he’d had a bit too much to drink.
I didn’t hear the whole story until I was an adult and read about him in a book. Bill bought forty acres at the top of Brockway Mountain after he had received a medical discharge from the Army at the end of WWII. His doctors had advised him to seek a quiet place to live. Perhaps he had what is now known at PTSD, but that’s just speculation on my part. I did learn that a preference for solitary life was probably inherited from his grandfather who had also lived off of the land in Finland.
The first summer he lived in a lean-to made out of brush while building his shack. The first shack became covered with snow the first winter, so he built another one higher on a hill. His shack was made of poles covered with tar-paper. The inside walls were covered with magazine pictures. He had a wood burning space heater for heat and cooking and kerosene for light.
Bill supplemented his groceries he bought on his disability check with rabbits, squirrels, and porcupines he killed with a slingshot. He also fed the bears that visited him, and when he was gone, they were not adverse to breaking in and helping themselves.
He always had a cat and a dog and they were always named Meow and Bark.
I never actually met the Hermit, but my sister and a friend took him home one night after he had been to town and had a bit to drink. Some people tried to take advantage of him in this state, but others looked after him. Hunters would donate their left-over groceries when they left the area and others would leave care packages of cookies and other treats in his mailbox, especially at Christmas. He also had family members who checked on him when they were in the area.
I asked my sister what she remembered of her visit and she told me this story, similar to many others who found their way to his simple hut on the mountain."...his house ( wood shack) was fascinating. The walls and ceiling were ‘papered’ with pages from The Saturday Evening Post. One wall had a row of pegs and there were those plaid wool jackets and caps hanging on them. The opposite wall where his bed (a rickety single cot) was, had been virtually shredded — by a black bear. The door frame had notches on both sides. One side was the number of rabbits he had killed with his slingshot and the other side was the number of squirrels — both sides had hundreds of notches. He had a kerosene lantern for light and we didn’t want to leave him til he was asleep because we were afraid he would knock it over and set fire to the place (it would have gone up like tinder).
Before he fell asleep he told us about his first night on the mountain. There was no structure or anything there and he just had a duffel bag with clothes. He built a huge fire and sat awake by it all night. He said he could see the eyes of wild animals all around him, shining in the firelight. He finally fell asleep and we waited til he was snoring loudly before we left.” (my sister, Pat Luoma Ochodnicky)
Bill loved to sit outside and look at the stars and is quoted as saying, “I plan to live up here until I can’t move a muscle.” One winter day in 1985 he was found dead in his shack, where he had died of a heart attack after skiing back up the mountain. He was 70 years old.
Most of the information was found in a book in a book by David M. Frimodig, entitled Keweenaw Character: The Foundation of Michigan’s Copper Country. You can also read notes people have left in forums and the newspaper account of his death at the links below.
I didn’t hear the whole story until I was an adult and read about him in a book. Bill bought forty acres at the top of Brockway Mountain after he had received a medical discharge from the Army at the end of WWII. His doctors had advised him to seek a quiet place to live. Perhaps he had what is now known at PTSD, but that’s just speculation on my part. I did learn that a preference for solitary life was probably inherited from his grandfather who had also lived off of the land in Finland.
The first summer he lived in a lean-to made out of brush while building his shack. The first shack became covered with snow the first winter, so he built another one higher on a hill. His shack was made of poles covered with tar-paper. The inside walls were covered with magazine pictures. He had a wood burning space heater for heat and cooking and kerosene for light.
Bill supplemented his groceries he bought on his disability check with rabbits, squirrels, and porcupines he killed with a slingshot. He also fed the bears that visited him, and when he was gone, they were not adverse to breaking in and helping themselves.
He always had a cat and a dog and they were always named Meow and Bark.
I never actually met the Hermit, but my sister and a friend took him home one night after he had been to town and had a bit to drink. Some people tried to take advantage of him in this state, but others looked after him. Hunters would donate their left-over groceries when they left the area and others would leave care packages of cookies and other treats in his mailbox, especially at Christmas. He also had family members who checked on him when they were in the area.
I asked my sister what she remembered of her visit and she told me this story, similar to many others who found their way to his simple hut on the mountain."...his house ( wood shack) was fascinating. The walls and ceiling were ‘papered’ with pages from The Saturday Evening Post. One wall had a row of pegs and there were those plaid wool jackets and caps hanging on them. The opposite wall where his bed (a rickety single cot) was, had been virtually shredded — by a black bear. The door frame had notches on both sides. One side was the number of rabbits he had killed with his slingshot and the other side was the number of squirrels — both sides had hundreds of notches. He had a kerosene lantern for light and we didn’t want to leave him til he was asleep because we were afraid he would knock it over and set fire to the place (it would have gone up like tinder).
Before he fell asleep he told us about his first night on the mountain. There was no structure or anything there and he just had a duffel bag with clothes. He built a huge fire and sat awake by it all night. He said he could see the eyes of wild animals all around him, shining in the firelight. He finally fell asleep and we waited til he was snoring loudly before we left.” (my sister, Pat Luoma Ochodnicky)
Bill loved to sit outside and look at the stars and is quoted as saying, “I plan to live up here until I can’t move a muscle.” One winter day in 1985 he was found dead in his shack, where he had died of a heart attack after skiing back up the mountain. He was 70 years old.
Most of the information was found in a book in a book by David M. Frimodig, entitled Keweenaw Character: The Foundation of Michigan’s Copper Country. You can also read notes people have left in forums and the newspaper account of his death at the links below.
More About the Hermit on Brockway Mountain
Pasty.com Forum Messages Pictures and comments about Bill the Hermit.
Pasty.com Forum Messages 2 A glimpse inside the Hermit's cabin and more memories by those who knew him.
Notice of the Hermit's Death Notice of Bill's death in the Milwaukee Journal.
Pasty.com Forum Messages Pictures and comments about Bill the Hermit.
Pasty.com Forum Messages 2 A glimpse inside the Hermit's cabin and more memories by those who knew him.
Notice of the Hermit's Death Notice of Bill's death in the Milwaukee Journal.
Keweenaw Character: The Foundation of Michigan's Copper Country.
This is the book that tells the story of Bill Mattila. The book also tells of the life my mother had growing up on Isle Royale, the island in Lake Superior that is now a national park. Her picture is on the front cover.
Author "Mac" Frimodig was a friend of our family and the superintendent of Fort Wilkins State Park for many years.
Hermit or Recluse?
Rock Hermitage - courtesy of constantin jurcut
via rgbstock.com
The word hermit comes from the Greek word, “eremites” which means “of the desert.” In the days of early Christianity, around the 3rd century AD, some Christians went out to the desert to escape persecution and to focus on prayer and finding God. They were known as the Desert Fathers (there were Desert Mothers too.) Many other religions also have followers who choose a solitary life apart from people as a way to meditate and become enlightened. Buddhists and Hindus both venerate those who lead a simple life with few possessions. They may live in a cave in the Himalayas or wander the streets with a begging bowl.
Over time the word hermit has evolved to mean anyone who chooses to live apart from society. Aside from the spiritual reasons, people also live in solitude just to find inner peace. Thoreau said, “I have never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude.”
Other people may have a form of social anxiety disorder, where they are afraid of what people will think if they go out about in the world. Or they may have PTSD where noises and crowds trigger panic attacks. Or, they just may not like people in general, which is called misanthropy.
What is the difference between a hermit and a recluse? Probably not much, for a recluse also draws apart from other people, for many of the same reasons as a hermit does. In fact, hermit is given as a synonym for recluse.
But many hermits enjoy talking to people, just not all the time. Bill Mattila, the hermit of Brockway Mountain enjoyed having visitors. Many Holy Men who live in the caves and huts of their region also enjoy teaching those who make an effort to see them.
To me, a recluse is someone who tries to cut themselves off from humanity as much as possible. The word recluse means “hidden away.” People who suffer from agoraphobia are often afraid to leave their homes because being in crowds or open places might lead to panic attacks.
Some famous people who have been recluses include Howard Hughes, J.D Salinger, and Greta Garbo.
Over time the word hermit has evolved to mean anyone who chooses to live apart from society. Aside from the spiritual reasons, people also live in solitude just to find inner peace. Thoreau said, “I have never found a companion that was so companionable as solitude.”
Other people may have a form of social anxiety disorder, where they are afraid of what people will think if they go out about in the world. Or they may have PTSD where noises and crowds trigger panic attacks. Or, they just may not like people in general, which is called misanthropy.
What is the difference between a hermit and a recluse? Probably not much, for a recluse also draws apart from other people, for many of the same reasons as a hermit does. In fact, hermit is given as a synonym for recluse.
But many hermits enjoy talking to people, just not all the time. Bill Mattila, the hermit of Brockway Mountain enjoyed having visitors. Many Holy Men who live in the caves and huts of their region also enjoy teaching those who make an effort to see them.
To me, a recluse is someone who tries to cut themselves off from humanity as much as possible. The word recluse means “hidden away.” People who suffer from agoraphobia are often afraid to leave their homes because being in crowds or open places might lead to panic attacks.
Some famous people who have been recluses include Howard Hughes, J.D Salinger, and Greta Garbo.
Learn More About the Life of a Hermit
Consider The Ravens: On Contemporary Hermit Life
A handbook and guide for aspiring hermits or those who just want to know more about contemporary hermit lifestyles
I Am An Introvert
Photo of me using my imagination.
I am an introvert. Being in large groups and making small talk drains me of energy. I enjoy being alone and often played by myself as a child. Oh, I had friends, but I was perfectly happy to sit in my room reading or making up imaginary games. I like thinking deep thoughts and staring off into space whenever the mood strikes me.
I can force myself to be more social, but it takes great effort. I was actually President of the Social Work club in college. Which is strange, because I have no idea how I ended up in a career field that seems designed for extroverts. I didn’t really know what a social worker was, but the courses looked interesting so I declared it as my major. My real interest was in writing, but I thought if I went into journalism all I could use it for was to be a newspaper reporter. I knew I could never go out and interview people, so I decided to be a social worker.
Somewhere along the way I realized that actually interviewing people to get their history was going to be a problem for me. We were given an assignment to interview someone and then write a social history based on it. My interest was in working with adolescents, so I walked over to the high school. I couldn’t even force myself to go in. I ended up making up the interview based on some sample social histories I found in the library. Sssh, don’t tell my instructors. They might take away my degree.
I decided maybe I was on the wrong career path and went to a counselor to seek advice. When she asked what was wrong, I didn’t leap into the real reason I was there. I started with something smaller, such as I had broken up with my boyfriend and didn’t have any friends.
The woman immediately decided that the solution for me was to make more friends. She picked up the phone and found out there was some activity going on that night. She told me to go to the activity to meet some people and come back the next week to tell her about it. I didn’t go to the event, and I never went back to see her. And, I graduated with a degree in Social Work.
I can force myself to be more social, but it takes great effort. I was actually President of the Social Work club in college. Which is strange, because I have no idea how I ended up in a career field that seems designed for extroverts. I didn’t really know what a social worker was, but the courses looked interesting so I declared it as my major. My real interest was in writing, but I thought if I went into journalism all I could use it for was to be a newspaper reporter. I knew I could never go out and interview people, so I decided to be a social worker.
Somewhere along the way I realized that actually interviewing people to get their history was going to be a problem for me. We were given an assignment to interview someone and then write a social history based on it. My interest was in working with adolescents, so I walked over to the high school. I couldn’t even force myself to go in. I ended up making up the interview based on some sample social histories I found in the library. Sssh, don’t tell my instructors. They might take away my degree.
I decided maybe I was on the wrong career path and went to a counselor to seek advice. When she asked what was wrong, I didn’t leap into the real reason I was there. I started with something smaller, such as I had broken up with my boyfriend and didn’t have any friends.
The woman immediately decided that the solution for me was to make more friends. She picked up the phone and found out there was some activity going on that night. She told me to go to the activity to meet some people and come back the next week to tell her about it. I didn’t go to the event, and I never went back to see her. And, I graduated with a degree in Social Work.
What a commentary on our civilization, when being alone is considered suspect; when one has to apologize for it, make excuses, hide the fact that one practices it-like a secret vice!
–Anne Morrow Lindbergh
The Secret Power of Introverts
An engaging interview with Susan Cain, author of the book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking.
“Don’t think of introversion as something that needs to be cured…Spend your free time the way you like, not the way you think you’re supposed to.” Susan Cain
An engaging interview with Susan Cain, author of the book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking.
“Don’t think of introversion as something that needs to be cured…Spend your free time the way you like, not the way you think you’re supposed to.” Susan Cain
Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking
Marriage and Family
Me with my two oldest children. The house we lived in at that time was an old farmhouse with no running water and only a wood stove for heat.
I got married a semester before I graduated, much to my mother's dismay. She was afraid I would not graduate from college. We moved to my husband’s home in Kansas where introverted me tried to adjust to the large, extroverted, extended family I had married into. There were family picnics and church picnics, weddings and funerals, and holiday celebrations that involved lots of food and people talking loudly to be heard over one another. I could usually be found hiding in a corner, drinking a lot of wine.
Our first child arrived eight years after we were married, and there were two more after that. I decided to become a stay-at-home mom, which I enjoyed because I nursed all my babies. It also provided no alone time at all. My escape was to go grocery shopping late at night. Before shopping, I would buy a cup of coffee, a magazine, and relax for half an hour.
After ten years of trying to pay bills on one paycheck, I went back to work. It was a social work job, since that is what I had trained for. I guess I missed the part in the college handbook that said that social work means you have to be social. Actually, I was pretty good at it; I used my writing skills to write the best social histories and progress notes. But I always had difficulty meeting new clients and talking on the phone.
During this time I was diagnosed with Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. This is the extreme version of PMS. PMDD affects only 3-8% of women. It is characterized by rapid and severe mood swings, irritability and anger, difficulty with interpersonal relationships, feeling out of control, feelings of sadness and despair, panic attacks. And the list goes on. The difference between PMDD and regular PMS is the severity of the symptoms. In my case, the symptoms could last up to two weeks out of the month.
I probably had it since I was a teenager, but who knew about such things those days? My mother told me I was “moody.” I imagine that living with me was very difficult, as I would have days that I could not get out of bed, extreme mood swings and anger outbursts, and feelings of hopelessness. I worried that I would hurt my children. On one occasion I ran to get help from my father-in-law because I was so angry at my toddler, who was having a temper tantrum, that I felt I was losing control.
I thought I was going crazy and I knew I needed help, but it was a while before anyone took it seriously. PMS was still perceived by many doctors as just being “in your head.” It was my Natural Family Planning instructor (yes, we were Catholic) who noticed that the symptoms corresponded to my menstrual cycle. She told me, “You have the worst case of PMS I’ve ever seen.” When I showed my doctor my monthly chart, he put me on an antidepressant. I felt better immediately, and began to have a life again. Although I still had bouts of anxiety and depression, the mood swings were much less severe.
One of the worst aspects of PMDD for me was the feeling that I was all alone, that I was going crazy. This video explains the symptoms and how two women learned to cope with it.
Our first child arrived eight years after we were married, and there were two more after that. I decided to become a stay-at-home mom, which I enjoyed because I nursed all my babies. It also provided no alone time at all. My escape was to go grocery shopping late at night. Before shopping, I would buy a cup of coffee, a magazine, and relax for half an hour.
After ten years of trying to pay bills on one paycheck, I went back to work. It was a social work job, since that is what I had trained for. I guess I missed the part in the college handbook that said that social work means you have to be social. Actually, I was pretty good at it; I used my writing skills to write the best social histories and progress notes. But I always had difficulty meeting new clients and talking on the phone.
During this time I was diagnosed with Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder. This is the extreme version of PMS. PMDD affects only 3-8% of women. It is characterized by rapid and severe mood swings, irritability and anger, difficulty with interpersonal relationships, feeling out of control, feelings of sadness and despair, panic attacks. And the list goes on. The difference between PMDD and regular PMS is the severity of the symptoms. In my case, the symptoms could last up to two weeks out of the month.
I probably had it since I was a teenager, but who knew about such things those days? My mother told me I was “moody.” I imagine that living with me was very difficult, as I would have days that I could not get out of bed, extreme mood swings and anger outbursts, and feelings of hopelessness. I worried that I would hurt my children. On one occasion I ran to get help from my father-in-law because I was so angry at my toddler, who was having a temper tantrum, that I felt I was losing control.
I thought I was going crazy and I knew I needed help, but it was a while before anyone took it seriously. PMS was still perceived by many doctors as just being “in your head.” It was my Natural Family Planning instructor (yes, we were Catholic) who noticed that the symptoms corresponded to my menstrual cycle. She told me, “You have the worst case of PMS I’ve ever seen.” When I showed my doctor my monthly chart, he put me on an antidepressant. I felt better immediately, and began to have a life again. Although I still had bouts of anxiety and depression, the mood swings were much less severe.
One of the worst aspects of PMDD for me was the feeling that I was all alone, that I was going crazy. This video explains the symptoms and how two women learned to cope with it.
Photo of distressed woman courtesy of PublicDomainPictures.net
If you think you might have the symptoms of PMDD, first go see your doctor. You can also check out the links to network with others with this debilitating disorder. I would have benefited a lot had I been able to talk to someone about it.
PMMD and Mental Health Support Group. This Facebook was created to give women suffering from PMDD a place where they can share their feelings with other women who understand.
PMDD Information & Answers Definition of PMDD, causes and treatment options (such as prescription medication, natural & alternative therapies, exercise and diet), and a discussion forum.
PMMD and Mental Health Support Group. This Facebook was created to give women suffering from PMDD a place where they can share their feelings with other women who understand.
PMDD Information & Answers Definition of PMDD, causes and treatment options (such as prescription medication, natural & alternative therapies, exercise and diet), and a discussion forum.
What Happened Next
Whale watching in the Pacific Ocean, the best medicine for depression.
What happened next surprised me as much as anyone. Although I was depressed and often wished I could die, I did not believe in divorce and just figured that was my lot in life. Being a martyr, also known as “carrying your cross” was a badge of honor in this culture I had joined. Besides the issues I mentioned above, there were other reasons, too complex to try to describe in this little article, which resulted in a radical behavior on my part. After 24 years of marriage, I found myself on a bus to California to live with a man I met on the internet.
I was with that man for 19 years and we were legally married in 2006. It was something I felt had to do to save my own sanity, but also something that I wish had not happened. It has damaged my relationship with my children, possibly irreparably. As time has passed my children and I have worked to reconcile our relationship and recently I found the strength to express my sorrow at having hurt them as I was not in my right mind at the time I left.
Although I loved living on the West Coast, I had to go to work, this time to pay child support. Once again I found myself in a social work job, this time in a nursing home. Over a course of eight years I worked in two different nursing homes, for three different companies. During that time I became even more stressed and anxious. I found that the only way I could fulfill my duties of meeting and talking to people was to pretend I was someone else. When I picked up a phone to call a resident's family member, I literally pictured myself as being some important person who was not afraid of talking on the phone.
I also have to state that all my life I have had problems with my hands shaking. In high school I almost failed my shorthand class because my hands would shake during the time tests. and I could not even read my own notes. To pay my way through college I worked as a waitress in the summer. When I would pour a cup of coffee, I was often asked “why are your hands shaking?” If I stood in front of a group to give a talk, the notes I was holding would flutter from the shaking. As time went on, the shaking got worse. My hands are shaking now even as I type this. And no, it is not an early sign of Parkinson’s, although that was my fear at one time.
Eventually I had a mental meltdown and ended up taking a month leave of absence. I was assigned to a work therapy group. I dreaded having to graduate, but the therapist said she could not justify keeping me there any longer. Maybe it was because I found myself helping her to lead the group!
When I went back to work at the nursing home, I decided that I was only going to stay there long enough to get the money to move somewhere else. It took five months, and because of the urging and pleading of my children, my husband and I moved back to Kansas in 2006. It shows how much my husband loved me, because living in Kansas was never been on his desired experience list.
I was with that man for 19 years and we were legally married in 2006. It was something I felt had to do to save my own sanity, but also something that I wish had not happened. It has damaged my relationship with my children, possibly irreparably. As time has passed my children and I have worked to reconcile our relationship and recently I found the strength to express my sorrow at having hurt them as I was not in my right mind at the time I left.
Although I loved living on the West Coast, I had to go to work, this time to pay child support. Once again I found myself in a social work job, this time in a nursing home. Over a course of eight years I worked in two different nursing homes, for three different companies. During that time I became even more stressed and anxious. I found that the only way I could fulfill my duties of meeting and talking to people was to pretend I was someone else. When I picked up a phone to call a resident's family member, I literally pictured myself as being some important person who was not afraid of talking on the phone.
I also have to state that all my life I have had problems with my hands shaking. In high school I almost failed my shorthand class because my hands would shake during the time tests. and I could not even read my own notes. To pay my way through college I worked as a waitress in the summer. When I would pour a cup of coffee, I was often asked “why are your hands shaking?” If I stood in front of a group to give a talk, the notes I was holding would flutter from the shaking. As time went on, the shaking got worse. My hands are shaking now even as I type this. And no, it is not an early sign of Parkinson’s, although that was my fear at one time.
Eventually I had a mental meltdown and ended up taking a month leave of absence. I was assigned to a work therapy group. I dreaded having to graduate, but the therapist said she could not justify keeping me there any longer. Maybe it was because I found myself helping her to lead the group!
When I went back to work at the nursing home, I decided that I was only going to stay there long enough to get the money to move somewhere else. It took five months, and because of the urging and pleading of my children, my husband and I moved back to Kansas in 2006. It shows how much my husband loved me, because living in Kansas was never been on his desired experience list.
There and Back Again
The Return to Kansas
Image is in the public domain
You are wondering what happened to the PMDD. Well, while I was in California I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had a lumpectomy and radiation. Following that, I was put on the medication Tamoxifen. One of the side effects I experienced was premature menopause. So no more PMS, but still the depression and anxiety.
I was determined not to ever be a social worker again. When I told my co-workers that I wanted a job in a cubicle in front of a computer, they laughed. Because I was good at my job, at least most of the time, they thought I loved it. Instead it was killing me.
Well, I got my wish. I got a job in a call center, which seemed like an improvement because I only had to deal with one problem at a time instead of trying to juggle ten balls at once. But, of course, it meant talking on the phone, and I had periodic episodes of anxiety that felt like I was having a heart attack. That is when I was prescribed an anti-anxiety medication for an Anxiety Disorder.
That job ended and I eventually found another job which was only data entry. Or so I thought. At first no phone work was involved, which was a huge relief. But after a year, management said everyone had to learn to make phone calls and I panicked. I knew I couldn’t do it again. Well meaning people tried to tell me that I could learn to get over my anxiety if I really wanted to. What they didn’t realize is that I have done that all my life. I had come up with coping skills that got me through it. But I was still having nightmares about being a social worker, and I just didn’t want to have to try anymore. I wanted to be able to accept myself just as I was. So I asked my doctor to write an order so I could get an exception from working on the phone and FMLA to leave when I became too anxious.
I was determined not to ever be a social worker again. When I told my co-workers that I wanted a job in a cubicle in front of a computer, they laughed. Because I was good at my job, at least most of the time, they thought I loved it. Instead it was killing me.
Well, I got my wish. I got a job in a call center, which seemed like an improvement because I only had to deal with one problem at a time instead of trying to juggle ten balls at once. But, of course, it meant talking on the phone, and I had periodic episodes of anxiety that felt like I was having a heart attack. That is when I was prescribed an anti-anxiety medication for an Anxiety Disorder.
That job ended and I eventually found another job which was only data entry. Or so I thought. At first no phone work was involved, which was a huge relief. But after a year, management said everyone had to learn to make phone calls and I panicked. I knew I couldn’t do it again. Well meaning people tried to tell me that I could learn to get over my anxiety if I really wanted to. What they didn’t realize is that I have done that all my life. I had come up with coping skills that got me through it. But I was still having nightmares about being a social worker, and I just didn’t want to have to try anymore. I wanted to be able to accept myself just as I was. So I asked my doctor to write an order so I could get an exception from working on the phone and FMLA to leave when I became too anxious.
The privilege of a lifetime is being who you are.
–Joseph Campbell
Living In An RV
Here is our RV parked at Alatoona Lake in Georgia.
In 2011, my husband and I realized our dream of buying an RV and traveling around the country. He was receiving Social Security, but I was still too young, so for two years we had no other income except for the little I made writing on-line and products we created and sold on Zazzle. However, I was ecstatic because I no longer had to deal with the pressures of a job. I was so happy living in my little house on wheels and doing what I loved, writing articles and stories.
At first I enjoyed taking our cat out for a walk on a leash, walking or hiking around the area, and going into town for a dinner and some shopping. As time went on, I realized that I seldom wanted to go outside any more. Even when we were parked at a beautiful lake, I would just open my window and look at it from inside. I felt safe and secure inside my own little hermit hut.
In December of 2012, we experienced an RV breakdown while traveling back to Kansas for business purposes. Both my husband and I experienced high levels of anxiety and a fear of becoming homeless. He became stressed to the point where he was hospitalized for a short time. This, plus the need for even more repairs, resulted in us staying in Kansas for a year and nine months, parked in an RV park in Topeka, KS.
I began to have anxiety attacks almost every day. I hated to leave the RV and going to the shower room was a major success for me. Our trips to Walmart for food left me exhausted and panicky. I simply didn't want to be around people any more. We were invited to barbecues at the park but declined because it was too exhausting to make small talk with people I didn't know well. My social outlet was on-line, and even then there were days when I didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Was this a problem? Should I have been concerned and sought treatment? I didn't think it was. I think that even though at this time I am still basically a recluse, it is the opportunity I have always wanted, time to delve deeply into my spirituality. I don’t have to go to a mountain cave or to the desert. I have books to read, spiritual articles on-line, and share ideas with like-minded people. I have plenty of time to meditate or contemplate and practice Being in the Now. I don’t have the distractions of getting up to go to work, or talking about subjects that are of no interest to me. The outer world has diminished in importance while my inner world has evolved and feeds my soul.
At first I enjoyed taking our cat out for a walk on a leash, walking or hiking around the area, and going into town for a dinner and some shopping. As time went on, I realized that I seldom wanted to go outside any more. Even when we were parked at a beautiful lake, I would just open my window and look at it from inside. I felt safe and secure inside my own little hermit hut.
In December of 2012, we experienced an RV breakdown while traveling back to Kansas for business purposes. Both my husband and I experienced high levels of anxiety and a fear of becoming homeless. He became stressed to the point where he was hospitalized for a short time. This, plus the need for even more repairs, resulted in us staying in Kansas for a year and nine months, parked in an RV park in Topeka, KS.
I began to have anxiety attacks almost every day. I hated to leave the RV and going to the shower room was a major success for me. Our trips to Walmart for food left me exhausted and panicky. I simply didn't want to be around people any more. We were invited to barbecues at the park but declined because it was too exhausting to make small talk with people I didn't know well. My social outlet was on-line, and even then there were days when I didn’t want to talk to anyone.
Was this a problem? Should I have been concerned and sought treatment? I didn't think it was. I think that even though at this time I am still basically a recluse, it is the opportunity I have always wanted, time to delve deeply into my spirituality. I don’t have to go to a mountain cave or to the desert. I have books to read, spiritual articles on-line, and share ideas with like-minded people. I have plenty of time to meditate or contemplate and practice Being in the Now. I don’t have the distractions of getting up to go to work, or talking about subjects that are of no interest to me. The outer world has diminished in importance while my inner world has evolved and feeds my soul.
So you don’t have to rush to India because it’s always right where you are. There are beings who can get as high as any enlightened being ever got, sitting in the middle of Topeka, Kansas, or in the middle of New York, or in the middle of anywhere. It depends on your readiness, and that has to do with your karma or your readiness to get on with it all.
Ram Dass
Sierra Blanca image by Breeze333 via Wikimedia Commons
In April of 2014, I received my first social security check, which was a life changing event for us. It enabled us to make repairs to the RV and we got on the road again. Our destination was the Oregon coast where we had planned to settle down. We managed to get as far as Alamogordo, NM where we broke down again. We will stay here as long as it takes to save money for repairs. This time we are not anxious because we are in a safe place which is warmer than Topeka, and we have enough money for food and other necessities of life. It is also an area close to the White Mountain (Sierra Blanca) which is sacred to the Mescalero Apache people. We can both feel a vortex of positive energy which surrounds and supports us.
Although I am still a recluse, I believe this is a temporary place in my journey of life. On our way to Alamogordo, we stopped to visit two of my children. I was able to go on outings, socialize, and found I could even go shopping without a panic attack. We will continue our plan to move to the West Coast when finances allow, and then I am sure I will be out watching whales, walking on the beach, and visiting the redwoods. Until then, I will remain in my safe and warm cocoon.
Although I am still a recluse, I believe this is a temporary place in my journey of life. On our way to Alamogordo, we stopped to visit two of my children. I was able to go on outings, socialize, and found I could even go shopping without a panic attack. We will continue our plan to move to the West Coast when finances allow, and then I am sure I will be out watching whales, walking on the beach, and visiting the redwoods. Until then, I will remain in my safe and warm cocoon.
Update - January 2016. Well, we are still here in Alamogordo, NM and will be for some time. In April, 2015 I was diagnosed with breast cancer and ended up having a mastectomy. Although I have insurance (thanks to Obamacare), there are still hospital bills to pay. In addition, my husband needs to get dentures. All of this has prevented up from saving for repairs.
The stress of having had cancer and the recovery from surgery exacerbated my anxiety. I started having not only daily panic attacks, but actually felt fear. The fear had no basis, but even in my safe cave (my bedroom) I felt complete terror. I discussed this with my therapist and she recommended I try Buspar, an anti-anxiety medication to complement what I was already taking. Although some people report adverse side effects, for me it was a life changer. I stopped having the daily panic/terror attacks and was able to resume most of my daily activities. It is not a cure; I am still mostly a recluse, but I have been able to get out once in awhile even if it is just to go shopping.
The stress of having had cancer and the recovery from surgery exacerbated my anxiety. I started having not only daily panic attacks, but actually felt fear. The fear had no basis, but even in my safe cave (my bedroom) I felt complete terror. I discussed this with my therapist and she recommended I try Buspar, an anti-anxiety medication to complement what I was already taking. Although some people report adverse side effects, for me it was a life changer. I stopped having the daily panic/terror attacks and was able to resume most of my daily activities. It is not a cure; I am still mostly a recluse, but I have been able to get out once in awhile even if it is just to go shopping.
Gerald Champion Regional Medical Center where I spend a lot of my time. The view is beautiful from there.
Update August 2016 The journey continues. Not the physical journey, as we still haven't fixed the RV. It is the spiritual journey which is bringing up more challenges for us to respond to. We have tried to understand why we seem to be "stuck" in this area but only the Universe has the answer to that. If I thought the year 2016 was going to be an improvement over the last year, I was wrong. I started to have episodes of gout, the build-up of uric acid in my body that settles as crystals, usually in the joints of the toes. It is incredibly painful and I have done the round of doctors again with mixed results. I have been changing my diet, almost totally giving up red meat.
But the Universe evidently wasn't satisfied with that challenge. I had a D&C procedure which determined I had uterine cancer. Something happened during that procedure because two days later I began have shoulder pain that radiates down my arms. I spent a lot of time chasing down the reason for that and ended up with a combination of two possibilities. One, the way I was positioned on the table aggravated my scoliosis and/or triggered a gout attack in my shoulders.
Either way, I am supposed to get a robotic hysterectomy which sounded kind of cool until I saw how the patients are positioned during the procedure. Both the doctor and I agreed that the neck and shoulder pain should be investigated further to see if the surgery is in my best interests. I am waiting for a neurology consult now.....and I have to have an MRI which is already triggering my panic attacks just thinking about it. Evidently, as Ram Dass says in the quote below, I am not done with my caterpillarness. I wonder what kind of butterfly I am going to be?
But the Universe evidently wasn't satisfied with that challenge. I had a D&C procedure which determined I had uterine cancer. Something happened during that procedure because two days later I began have shoulder pain that radiates down my arms. I spent a lot of time chasing down the reason for that and ended up with a combination of two possibilities. One, the way I was positioned on the table aggravated my scoliosis and/or triggered a gout attack in my shoulders.
Either way, I am supposed to get a robotic hysterectomy which sounded kind of cool until I saw how the patients are positioned during the procedure. Both the doctor and I agreed that the neck and shoulder pain should be investigated further to see if the surgery is in my best interests. I am waiting for a neurology consult now.....and I have to have an MRI which is already triggering my panic attacks just thinking about it. Evidently, as Ram Dass says in the quote below, I am not done with my caterpillarness. I wonder what kind of butterfly I am going to be?
Image of caterpillar with gout (??) via Pixabay
It's only when caterpillarness is done that one becomes a butterfly. That again is part of this paradox. You cannot rip away caterpillarness. The whole trip occurs in an unfolding process of which we have no control.
–Ram Dass, Be Here Now
Image via Pixabay
Update November 2016 I have come to accept the fact that we were meant to stay in Alamogordo. Both my husband and I have deteriorating health issues and driving the RV, even if we could make the repairs we need, would just be too stressful. I had the MRI that I was so worried about and was able to maintain my fear of closed spaces by using some meditative techniques and taking my anti-anxiety medicine. At the end of September I had my hysterectomy in a hospital in Albuquerque which is a three and a half hour drive. This added to our financial burdens because we had to put all of these expenses on a credit card. The surgery itself went fine but my recovery was traumatic. I won't bore you with the details except for the fact that I experienced a lot of pain and was weak as a kitten for many weeks.
My husband had to take over all of my usual duties, including feeding the cat, and has been shopping for groceries by himself since the operation. Then we had another surprise. Just a few weeks ago my husband had a mild heart attack and spent several days in the ICU. He has been prescribed medicine and has to go to cardiac rehabilitation sessions twice a week. I have to admit that this scared me a lot because I really don't want to live alone.
My mind has been mulling over the possible spiritual reasons these things have happened. The Universe has evidently decided we are going to live in Alamogordo for a long time. It has its good points - the cost of living is low and there is no snow in the winter. The summers, however, are very hot. So I am trying to I interpret these "bad" things as experiences that happen on the journey of awakening.
"There’s a grace hiding behind every form of suffering. There’s always the possibility of transcendence, which comes from not resisting the present moment." Eckhart Tolle
Keep the River Flowing
A Summary
Grannysage meditating on the Tahquamenon River, Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
If you have read down this far, and I thank you if you have had that much patience, you might be wondering, “Why did she write this? Does she want me to feel sorry for her?”
That is not my intention at all. First of all, I have had many happy moments in my life, as you can see from the picture of me with my kids. I wrote it for several reasons.
I wrote it for other introverts who may be struggling to find a way to thrive in a world that rewards extroverts. Please don’t try to change yourself to fit in. There is a reason you are the way you are, and society needs introverts. Keep looking to find your niche.
“Some of our greatest ideas, art, and inventions — from the theory of evolution to Van Gogh’s sunflowers to the personal computer — came from quiet and cerebral people who knew how to tune in to their inner worlds and the treasures to be found there.” Susan Cain.
I wrote it to help remove the stigma of having a mental illness. No one thinks twice about someone seeing a doctor for high blood pressure, or diabetes. But even today, in 2017, there is a pall of shame attached to coming out and saying “I am depressed, I’m feeling anxious.” As a social worker I frequently encouraged my clients to at least try antidepressants and readily admitted I was taking them too. Positive thinking techniques are great helps, but sometimes we need a little more to get the brain chemistry balanced.
If you are suffering from feelings of sadness, irritability, feelings of hopelessness, thoughts of dying, or anger outbursts, and these symptoms don’t go away, don’t be afraid to seek help. Realize that you are not your illness. You are a person with a medical condition, just like someone with a heart condition. You are entitled and deserve to receive help without fearing that labels will be attached to you.
Finally, I wrote this as a journal of my own spiritual journey. I believe everything happens for a reason, and everything is, as Ram Dass would say, “grist for the mill” of our transformation. Its all about accepting ourselves, both who we were in the past, and who we are now.
Spiritual growth is like a running river. It should be free to move where it wills. If it gets blocked, it becomes stagnant. It is a good exercise to look back lovingly on the river you have already traveled and pick out the rocks (shame, guilt, embarrassment, fear, resentment, or anger) that is keeping your river from flowing down to the ocean of higher consciousness.
That is not my intention at all. First of all, I have had many happy moments in my life, as you can see from the picture of me with my kids. I wrote it for several reasons.
I wrote it for other introverts who may be struggling to find a way to thrive in a world that rewards extroverts. Please don’t try to change yourself to fit in. There is a reason you are the way you are, and society needs introverts. Keep looking to find your niche.
“Some of our greatest ideas, art, and inventions — from the theory of evolution to Van Gogh’s sunflowers to the personal computer — came from quiet and cerebral people who knew how to tune in to their inner worlds and the treasures to be found there.” Susan Cain.
I wrote it to help remove the stigma of having a mental illness. No one thinks twice about someone seeing a doctor for high blood pressure, or diabetes. But even today, in 2017, there is a pall of shame attached to coming out and saying “I am depressed, I’m feeling anxious.” As a social worker I frequently encouraged my clients to at least try antidepressants and readily admitted I was taking them too. Positive thinking techniques are great helps, but sometimes we need a little more to get the brain chemistry balanced.
If you are suffering from feelings of sadness, irritability, feelings of hopelessness, thoughts of dying, or anger outbursts, and these symptoms don’t go away, don’t be afraid to seek help. Realize that you are not your illness. You are a person with a medical condition, just like someone with a heart condition. You are entitled and deserve to receive help without fearing that labels will be attached to you.
Finally, I wrote this as a journal of my own spiritual journey. I believe everything happens for a reason, and everything is, as Ram Dass would say, “grist for the mill” of our transformation. Its all about accepting ourselves, both who we were in the past, and who we are now.
Spiritual growth is like a running river. It should be free to move where it wills. If it gets blocked, it becomes stagnant. It is a good exercise to look back lovingly on the river you have already traveled and pick out the rocks (shame, guilt, embarrassment, fear, resentment, or anger) that is keeping your river from flowing down to the ocean of higher consciousness.
See the way of life as a stream. A man floats, and his way is smooth. The same man turning upstream exhausts himself. To be one with the universe, each must find his true path and follow it.
–Master Kan, Kung Fu TV Series
The River Is Flowing
Stop and rest for a bit and enjoy this beautiful song and images of flowing rivers.
Stop and rest for a bit and enjoy this beautiful song and images of flowing rivers.
Suffering Is Grace?
My husband and I at a pagan ritual on the beach at Oceanside, CA.
Update May 12, 2107
Wow, the Universe just threw me a curve ball. In February 2017 my husband died from a sudden heart attack. One minute he was talking to me and the next he was on the floor. His heart had stopped by the time the paramedics got there. They were able to get it beating again, but he was non-responsive and the doctor and I decided to take him off the ventilator. It seems that the lack of oxygen had shut down his brain. He died several days later. For two weeks I was in shock, just walking around like a zombie.
I was dealing with all the tasks one must do after someone you love dies, such as contacting Social Security and all the frustrations of tidying up our financial matters. I was crashing really fast, especially since I have no support system here. We never really made friends because one, we thought we would only be here a short time, and two, I was a hermit and didn't want to meet new people. My children live in other states and are not available to help me with my changing lifestyle. I've been forced to do tasks that he always took care of, like grocery shopping, cleaning the litter box, and taking care of the RV. The one task that is beyond my strength is emptying the holding tanks. I can't seem to be able to open the valve and have to ask for help every time.
When I said I was crashing, I meant that I went to bed at night and hoped to die. I knew I couldn't just kill myself because who would take care of my cat? I spent a good part of the day in bed and tried to do just one thing a day. Even that was too hard at times. I knew I was in need of help but was afraid of contacting my therapist. I was afraid she would put me in the inpatient unit for having suicidal thoughts. Again, who would take care of my cat?
I muddled along with a lot of support from my Facebook friends. I really wondered what the Universe was thinking making me suffer like this. My mind tossed around the ideas from spiritual writers I thought I had accepted. But my heart had yet to catch up.
Eventually I saw my therapist and she started me on a new medication called Abilify. It is an antipsychotic but is also used for Major Depression. At this point I feel much better and have begun to embrace life again.
But these questions keep me awake at night. Where am I going from here? It is getting harder and harder to live in the RV by myself. But where would I go? How will I sell it?
The spiritual questions are even harder. Why did this happen to us? Must I be totally ripped apart before I can find peace? Do I even have a purpose here? Reading through some of the quotes from people like Eckhart Tolle, I have to wonder, do I even believe that any more? Quotes such as:
“Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge.”
“Accept - then act. Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it.”
I must say that I am getting better at being mindful of the present moment. I watch myself get dressed. walk to the office, buying groceries. Not all the time, but enough for me to notice it is happening. It doesn't make the suffering go away, it softens the blow. I decided to take my husband's ashes to Oceanside CA where we spent many days on the ocean watching whales. It was the best treatment for depression.The ceremony was beautiful. As I returned his human form to the sea, I hope to experience some closure and know that we are not really separated for all is connected.
Update March 23, 2018
Wow, it's been over a year since my husband died. I am over the shock stage and the deep grieving. Sadness still persists as I am sure it will for the rest of my life. However, having to do all my own errands has helped me overcome my hermit tendencies. I often take my laptop to the office and spend several hours working on the computer. I also have adjusted to going to doctor appointments by myself. So I guess my hermit days are over, at least for the foreseeable future.
Update January 3rd, 2019.
My life has changed drastically since my last entry. I gave away my RV to a young man who wanted to fix it up for his children. I then moved to an apartment in a senior complex. I thought the move itself was going to kill me as it happened during the summer's high heat. Then I found myself spending days alone, which was hard to handle at first. People suggested I go to the Senior Center but my hermit tendencies kicked in and I haven't been able to overcome my anxiety about being in a group of people.
I've been here six months and have grown to accept, and even like, long periods of silence. I have come to the conclusion that once again the Universe is providing me with an opportunity to grow spiritually. I have been practicing mindfulness and am feeling more comfortable living in the present moment. I still worry about the future but very often am able to turn that to acceptance of the present reality. This has indeed brought contentment and achieved a higher level of consciousness
"Acceptance looks like a passive state, but in reality it brings something entirely new into this world. That peace, a subtle energy vibration, is consciousness." Eckhart Tolle
Wow, the Universe just threw me a curve ball. In February 2017 my husband died from a sudden heart attack. One minute he was talking to me and the next he was on the floor. His heart had stopped by the time the paramedics got there. They were able to get it beating again, but he was non-responsive and the doctor and I decided to take him off the ventilator. It seems that the lack of oxygen had shut down his brain. He died several days later. For two weeks I was in shock, just walking around like a zombie.
I was dealing with all the tasks one must do after someone you love dies, such as contacting Social Security and all the frustrations of tidying up our financial matters. I was crashing really fast, especially since I have no support system here. We never really made friends because one, we thought we would only be here a short time, and two, I was a hermit and didn't want to meet new people. My children live in other states and are not available to help me with my changing lifestyle. I've been forced to do tasks that he always took care of, like grocery shopping, cleaning the litter box, and taking care of the RV. The one task that is beyond my strength is emptying the holding tanks. I can't seem to be able to open the valve and have to ask for help every time.
When I said I was crashing, I meant that I went to bed at night and hoped to die. I knew I couldn't just kill myself because who would take care of my cat? I spent a good part of the day in bed and tried to do just one thing a day. Even that was too hard at times. I knew I was in need of help but was afraid of contacting my therapist. I was afraid she would put me in the inpatient unit for having suicidal thoughts. Again, who would take care of my cat?
I muddled along with a lot of support from my Facebook friends. I really wondered what the Universe was thinking making me suffer like this. My mind tossed around the ideas from spiritual writers I thought I had accepted. But my heart had yet to catch up.
Eventually I saw my therapist and she started me on a new medication called Abilify. It is an antipsychotic but is also used for Major Depression. At this point I feel much better and have begun to embrace life again.
But these questions keep me awake at night. Where am I going from here? It is getting harder and harder to live in the RV by myself. But where would I go? How will I sell it?
The spiritual questions are even harder. Why did this happen to us? Must I be totally ripped apart before I can find peace? Do I even have a purpose here? Reading through some of the quotes from people like Eckhart Tolle, I have to wonder, do I even believe that any more? Quotes such as:
“Some changes look negative on the surface but you will soon realize that space is being created in your life for something new to emerge.”
“Accept - then act. Whatever the present moment contains, accept it as if you had chosen it. Always work with it, not against it.”
I must say that I am getting better at being mindful of the present moment. I watch myself get dressed. walk to the office, buying groceries. Not all the time, but enough for me to notice it is happening. It doesn't make the suffering go away, it softens the blow. I decided to take my husband's ashes to Oceanside CA where we spent many days on the ocean watching whales. It was the best treatment for depression.The ceremony was beautiful. As I returned his human form to the sea, I hope to experience some closure and know that we are not really separated for all is connected.
Update March 23, 2018
Wow, it's been over a year since my husband died. I am over the shock stage and the deep grieving. Sadness still persists as I am sure it will for the rest of my life. However, having to do all my own errands has helped me overcome my hermit tendencies. I often take my laptop to the office and spend several hours working on the computer. I also have adjusted to going to doctor appointments by myself. So I guess my hermit days are over, at least for the foreseeable future.
Update January 3rd, 2019.
My life has changed drastically since my last entry. I gave away my RV to a young man who wanted to fix it up for his children. I then moved to an apartment in a senior complex. I thought the move itself was going to kill me as it happened during the summer's high heat. Then I found myself spending days alone, which was hard to handle at first. People suggested I go to the Senior Center but my hermit tendencies kicked in and I haven't been able to overcome my anxiety about being in a group of people.
I've been here six months and have grown to accept, and even like, long periods of silence. I have come to the conclusion that once again the Universe is providing me with an opportunity to grow spiritually. I have been practicing mindfulness and am feeling more comfortable living in the present moment. I still worry about the future but very often am able to turn that to acceptance of the present reality. This has indeed brought contentment and achieved a higher level of consciousness
"Acceptance looks like a passive state, but in reality it brings something entirely new into this world. That peace, a subtle energy vibration, is consciousness." Eckhart Tolle
Slide a Note Under the Door
I may be hiding out in my hermitage, but I would still love to hear from you. Do you think you are an introvert or an extrovert?
Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental illness? If so, how did you feel about it?
When you are alone, do you feel lonely or energized?
Feel free to express yourself. If I don’t like it, I’ll just throw it back out the door (no, just kidding, I love to receive comments).
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Header image via Pixabay