Fear, Take Two
Hey all,
I appreciate all the positive comments below; I know I grew by going up Coit Tower. Everyone has fears, surely, but my fear of flying greatly hinders my life, and when I was younger and my fears were greater, there were so many things I missed. I'd count the view from Coit as one of those things; it was nice to be there.
But today, frankly, I'm freaking out.
I've never been sure what to do with my blog from post to post. I began wanting to write about my faith and my doubt; then almost immediately I needed support (I felt much more isolated a year ago than I do now) and so I used the blog for that, as a place to share. Sure it's all visible worldwide, but I knew a handful of supportive people were reading, and out the issues came. I thought, too, that that was part of presenting my faith: yes I believe in Jesus, but look at who I really am also. Not what I'd seen modelled during most of my church years when the presssure for conformity, doctrinal and behavioral, was so great. When the dirty secrets were kept secret more than not.
Of course there are some things I don't share here, but not many. I've talked about an awful lot.
And this morning, last night...this is one of those times...I believe writing will help me to process what I'm going through, though I've already talked to S and my buddy Mike, and will talk to him again later on the phone.
We suddenly have mice. Suddenly as in Thursday night I noticed a few droppings in our broiler pan beneath our stove, and then saw a little live one right in our entry way as company arrived for dinner. I scooped him up with a broom and dustpan (the kind that close, like a plastic version of the disneyland model) and walked down the road and across the street and tossed him, alive still, into the weeds. I didn't think much more of it, though I made a mental note to call our pest guy because of the droppings. I noticed a few under the sink also.
Coming home yesterday I find three mice, quite alive, all on my living room floor. My dog was half-punking one of them, and the dogs may have dragged them out because they're supposed to be nocturnal. So one, two, three, scoop into the dustpan, down the road and across the street.
And now I'm thinking, wow, in 12 hours I've found four mice in my living room. What is up?
Then S mentioned how she couldn't sleep Thursday night because the fan kept squeaking. Once she heard the distinctive mouse sound, she knew that was what had been keeping her up.
Next I made the mistake, while she was at work, of looking up hantavirus. Oh god.
S and I had been driving on some Sierra dirt roads and came to an old lookout tower, still inhabited in the summer by someone with an amazingly powerful office view. On the property was an old building, boarded up with old hantavirus signs all over it. Maybe that gave me the idea. I think it was the only disease I knew one can get from mice, so I looked it up since we had mice and I'm the armchair physician, remember. Bad idea.
The bottom line is hanta is rather rare in humans. Most people have gotten it in the four corner states; a fair number of californians (but I think less than 50 in 12 years) got it in counties east of the sierra, in terrain similar to that of the four corner states. Generally only a handful of people in any western state get it in a year, though about a third of those die. You see where I'm headed...the panic built so fast I could hardly think. It is transmitted via the saliva, urine, or droppings of infected mice, especially when that content is aerosolized, brushed up into the air in an enclosed space. In most of the country it's transmitted through deer mice, which I'm pretty sure (using a laymen's eye) is what were/are in my home.
And that's where I am. We did hear one squeaker in our bathroom last night and we just shut the bathroom door. He's still in there someplace and I have to buy a trap to end his miserable little life. I'll get one of those enclosed kind which kill the mouse and provide a coffin at the same time.
Of course I read all about how to handle mice and mice feces to avoid hanta; I've sprayed so much lysol on my living room hardwood floor the entire room stinks, and I've sprayed it on the droppings I've seen though I have yet to clean them up, and anyplace else I thought a mice might have walked. This is supposed to kill the virus if it's around.
After four years in the mountains, these are our first mice, and that is probably part of my terror. We left our back door open for a couple days, and they probably walked in through there, or maybe through small holes where I have still to install baseboard (after all the work last year on the hardwood floor, I have two closets to go and all the baseboard and I hate every stinking piece of it). To top all, our exterminator can't come until Monday, but his wife said he'll keep coming back until there are no more mice and since I've seen what he can do with a couple huge ant infestations I believe her he'll exterminate the beasties if any remain when he gets here. And I get to leave Tuesday morning for long beach and our housesitter can deal with any that might be left alive after monday when 'the cleaner' arrives. I'm glad I get to leave the house in a few days.
Why am I so afraid of a disease like this? I prayed about it last night, though of course my weak faith doesn't help (though the prayer did, some). It's almost as if the fear comes from not knowing what to do or of being powerless, combined with a sure sense of impending disaster\. If I had any exposure, it would have been minor and when I opened the broiler pan and washed off the tray we used (before I knew the awful facts from the cdc). But I'm not obsessing about that as much as I am the continued fact that I'm still here, in my house. I have to grade online papers today and tomorrow and unless I find five more mice today, I see no reason not to do it here.
Sure I'll put out a few traps, keep spraying lysol, but considering how uncommon the disease is, how aired out my house is during these hot summer days, why such terror?
That I can't answer. It's not as bad as it was last night. But I know somehow it goes back to something very young. Sure, most people in my shoes would have some concern, would take some precautions as I've done or am doing (actually, most people would probably just put out traps and leave it at that). But how many of them would fall into heart-pounding cold-hand terror? As if death was right behind a door I'm leaning against, even opening? And not the Jesus death, but some other kind of final, catastrophic end. My hypochondriases, maybe that's not the best term, my fear of death by some disease doesn't crop up often, but it has roots back into adolescence, early adolescence, and I know those fears go farther back still. The carpet will be pulled. The disaster will certainly fall on my house, on me. My life will end suddenly and without warning. Doom, doom, darkness and doom, burning on me like a spotlight.
I guess right now I don't have to have any answers, I just have to go about my daily life. Grade for a while, then buy a few mousetraps and put at least one in the back bathroom. Then grade more and then take a nap (I didn't sleep more than six hours last night, and if I wasn't still taking meds for my pain, though less, I think I wouldn't have slept at all). But it really helps to write about this here, and I know I'm not the only scared person out there which also helps (KMJ has talked about the horrors of web.md).
Of course I may work outside on the wireless laptop I'm using now in my living room, which also feels safer.
So there I am. A major victory followed closely by a major terror.
So much of the faith, our faith, my faith, is about finding security in the midst of fear. It's all through the psalms, in the gospels and epistles. Human nature is part fear. I think of the story of the disciples in the boat in the storm. That would be me. Little faith, big fear.
I tell you, since I became senior warden and started to use my gifts in my church so much has hit me: my muscle spasms and the valium, overloads at work, two summer classes (by choice, but still) and now this...my life is better than 15 months ago no doubt, but new challenges have come which have kept me from doing all I want to do. Would it be superstitious to suggest spiritual warfare? Only if there is no such thing. St. Paul believed in it; Jesus seemed to also with what he told Peter (Satan has demanded permission to sift you like wheat) and what he told the same disciple on another occasion (get behind me, Satan). Perhaps this is all unrelated; the idea that it might be related actually gives me comfort, like a weak 'proof' for my faith. But now I'm getting metaphysical.
Thanks so much for listening everyone. I feel very weak, drained, right now. It's an old, familiar feeling. This will probably pass in a couple days, certainly after a few days out of town, but right now...so much fear. Writing helps. Being heard helps even more. I'd like to be able to hold up an image of strength, but this is who I am. Perhaps sharing that is a form of strength.
God's peace to all, including me,
t
I appreciate all the positive comments below; I know I grew by going up Coit Tower. Everyone has fears, surely, but my fear of flying greatly hinders my life, and when I was younger and my fears were greater, there were so many things I missed. I'd count the view from Coit as one of those things; it was nice to be there.
But today, frankly, I'm freaking out.
I've never been sure what to do with my blog from post to post. I began wanting to write about my faith and my doubt; then almost immediately I needed support (I felt much more isolated a year ago than I do now) and so I used the blog for that, as a place to share. Sure it's all visible worldwide, but I knew a handful of supportive people were reading, and out the issues came. I thought, too, that that was part of presenting my faith: yes I believe in Jesus, but look at who I really am also. Not what I'd seen modelled during most of my church years when the presssure for conformity, doctrinal and behavioral, was so great. When the dirty secrets were kept secret more than not.
Of course there are some things I don't share here, but not many. I've talked about an awful lot.
And this morning, last night...this is one of those times...I believe writing will help me to process what I'm going through, though I've already talked to S and my buddy Mike, and will talk to him again later on the phone.
We suddenly have mice. Suddenly as in Thursday night I noticed a few droppings in our broiler pan beneath our stove, and then saw a little live one right in our entry way as company arrived for dinner. I scooped him up with a broom and dustpan (the kind that close, like a plastic version of the disneyland model) and walked down the road and across the street and tossed him, alive still, into the weeds. I didn't think much more of it, though I made a mental note to call our pest guy because of the droppings. I noticed a few under the sink also.
Coming home yesterday I find three mice, quite alive, all on my living room floor. My dog was half-punking one of them, and the dogs may have dragged them out because they're supposed to be nocturnal. So one, two, three, scoop into the dustpan, down the road and across the street.
And now I'm thinking, wow, in 12 hours I've found four mice in my living room. What is up?
Then S mentioned how she couldn't sleep Thursday night because the fan kept squeaking. Once she heard the distinctive mouse sound, she knew that was what had been keeping her up.
Next I made the mistake, while she was at work, of looking up hantavirus. Oh god.
S and I had been driving on some Sierra dirt roads and came to an old lookout tower, still inhabited in the summer by someone with an amazingly powerful office view. On the property was an old building, boarded up with old hantavirus signs all over it. Maybe that gave me the idea. I think it was the only disease I knew one can get from mice, so I looked it up since we had mice and I'm the armchair physician, remember. Bad idea.
The bottom line is hanta is rather rare in humans. Most people have gotten it in the four corner states; a fair number of californians (but I think less than 50 in 12 years) got it in counties east of the sierra, in terrain similar to that of the four corner states. Generally only a handful of people in any western state get it in a year, though about a third of those die. You see where I'm headed...the panic built so fast I could hardly think. It is transmitted via the saliva, urine, or droppings of infected mice, especially when that content is aerosolized, brushed up into the air in an enclosed space. In most of the country it's transmitted through deer mice, which I'm pretty sure (using a laymen's eye) is what were/are in my home.
And that's where I am. We did hear one squeaker in our bathroom last night and we just shut the bathroom door. He's still in there someplace and I have to buy a trap to end his miserable little life. I'll get one of those enclosed kind which kill the mouse and provide a coffin at the same time.
Of course I read all about how to handle mice and mice feces to avoid hanta; I've sprayed so much lysol on my living room hardwood floor the entire room stinks, and I've sprayed it on the droppings I've seen though I have yet to clean them up, and anyplace else I thought a mice might have walked. This is supposed to kill the virus if it's around.
After four years in the mountains, these are our first mice, and that is probably part of my terror. We left our back door open for a couple days, and they probably walked in through there, or maybe through small holes where I have still to install baseboard (after all the work last year on the hardwood floor, I have two closets to go and all the baseboard and I hate every stinking piece of it). To top all, our exterminator can't come until Monday, but his wife said he'll keep coming back until there are no more mice and since I've seen what he can do with a couple huge ant infestations I believe her he'll exterminate the beasties if any remain when he gets here. And I get to leave Tuesday morning for long beach and our housesitter can deal with any that might be left alive after monday when 'the cleaner' arrives. I'm glad I get to leave the house in a few days.
Why am I so afraid of a disease like this? I prayed about it last night, though of course my weak faith doesn't help (though the prayer did, some). It's almost as if the fear comes from not knowing what to do or of being powerless, combined with a sure sense of impending disaster\. If I had any exposure, it would have been minor and when I opened the broiler pan and washed off the tray we used (before I knew the awful facts from the cdc). But I'm not obsessing about that as much as I am the continued fact that I'm still here, in my house. I have to grade online papers today and tomorrow and unless I find five more mice today, I see no reason not to do it here.
Sure I'll put out a few traps, keep spraying lysol, but considering how uncommon the disease is, how aired out my house is during these hot summer days, why such terror?
That I can't answer. It's not as bad as it was last night. But I know somehow it goes back to something very young. Sure, most people in my shoes would have some concern, would take some precautions as I've done or am doing (actually, most people would probably just put out traps and leave it at that). But how many of them would fall into heart-pounding cold-hand terror? As if death was right behind a door I'm leaning against, even opening? And not the Jesus death, but some other kind of final, catastrophic end. My hypochondriases, maybe that's not the best term, my fear of death by some disease doesn't crop up often, but it has roots back into adolescence, early adolescence, and I know those fears go farther back still. The carpet will be pulled. The disaster will certainly fall on my house, on me. My life will end suddenly and without warning. Doom, doom, darkness and doom, burning on me like a spotlight.
I guess right now I don't have to have any answers, I just have to go about my daily life. Grade for a while, then buy a few mousetraps and put at least one in the back bathroom. Then grade more and then take a nap (I didn't sleep more than six hours last night, and if I wasn't still taking meds for my pain, though less, I think I wouldn't have slept at all). But it really helps to write about this here, and I know I'm not the only scared person out there which also helps (KMJ has talked about the horrors of web.md).
Of course I may work outside on the wireless laptop I'm using now in my living room, which also feels safer.
So there I am. A major victory followed closely by a major terror.
So much of the faith, our faith, my faith, is about finding security in the midst of fear. It's all through the psalms, in the gospels and epistles. Human nature is part fear. I think of the story of the disciples in the boat in the storm. That would be me. Little faith, big fear.
I tell you, since I became senior warden and started to use my gifts in my church so much has hit me: my muscle spasms and the valium, overloads at work, two summer classes (by choice, but still) and now this...my life is better than 15 months ago no doubt, but new challenges have come which have kept me from doing all I want to do. Would it be superstitious to suggest spiritual warfare? Only if there is no such thing. St. Paul believed in it; Jesus seemed to also with what he told Peter (Satan has demanded permission to sift you like wheat) and what he told the same disciple on another occasion (get behind me, Satan). Perhaps this is all unrelated; the idea that it might be related actually gives me comfort, like a weak 'proof' for my faith. But now I'm getting metaphysical.
Thanks so much for listening everyone. I feel very weak, drained, right now. It's an old, familiar feeling. This will probably pass in a couple days, certainly after a few days out of town, but right now...so much fear. Writing helps. Being heard helps even more. I'd like to be able to hold up an image of strength, but this is who I am. Perhaps sharing that is a form of strength.
God's peace to all, including me,
t
Comments
The spiritual warfare thing has always made me curious. I know of times in my life when I am growing in faith and being useful, crap always seems to come my way. I don't think it is supersitious. I'll pray the beasts leave your home quickly and for good sleep.
I'm out of town now, but I'll be back in LB on wednesday. Peace.
No question to me that you do cut a rather imposing figure of strength, despite your feelings of weakness. Maybe it's superfluous to say, but I personally have always believed you to be one of the strongest souls I've ever known -- unwilling to go gently into the night, as it were.
So sorry to hear about the mice. You may recall our own trials and tribulations with the rodent world a few months back; thank God I didn't know/think about hanta myself - I think I would have been pretty freaked. Having mice in a (reasonably) new home was not something I relished - I felt like I'd...somehow failed, or something, I don't know. Kind of like getting roaches - there's this unspoken notion that I was somehow not clean enough. Turns out with the mice that they most likely came in as a result of all the waste bird seed laying on the ground in our yard that our finches and blackbirds manage to flick everywhere, then they caught the smell of the kitchen and managed to get their way in through a (seemingly) impossibly small hole where an electrical conduit came up from the foundation into our island in the kitchen.
At any rate, bro, I hope by the time you read this the beasts are all gone. My prayers are certainly with you.
Regarding spiritual warfare...YES! I've "bt,dt." I remember once trying to read the Bible and I suddenly couldn't concentrate -- even the words were garbled. It was if I was dyslexic.