Agoraphobia -- My Story

We had just finished our warmups for the first game of the All-Star baseball tournament. Our team was ready to play, adrenaline was rushing... the first pitch was about 10 minutes away. I looked at Tom and calmly said, "Coach, I need to go to the bathroom. Be back in a minute." He asked, "Why now?" I answered, "I need to go throw up. All the guys in my family did that before a big game; it's no big deal. I'll be right back." I went to the concession stand bathroom, hugged the toilet for a minute, then came back and played a good game. I was twelve years old.

I had told the truth to my coach -- my family had similar stories of pregame sickness all around. My dad always vomited before his high school football games. I'm pretty sure my uncle did too, before his college games. I figured I was the same way, and this was just a way of settling my nerves before an important athletic competition.

But then it started to get worse. Soon it wasn't just playoff games... I was getting sick before almost every baseball game. And sometimes the nausea wouldn't go away after visiting the bathroom, and I'd be on the verge of sickness for the whole game. Then it spread to my basketball games, to the point that I was leaving the floor during warmups to run to the bathroom. And this was a 13-year-old recreational league... not really a pressure situation.

I got baptized when I was 13, and had been told repeatedly how that was the biggest decision of my entire life, bigger than marriage. I could barely eat for two days before I was baptized, and had the dry heaves 60 seconds before I entered the water at our church.

Soon any new situation brought on the same symptoms -- dizziness, sweating, high heart rate and extreme nausea. On my first day of 9th grade I threw up in the hallway, two minutes after entering the building. First school dance? Could barely enter the gymnasium.

Eventually it continued to expand, and sometimes the symptoms would hit when we were eating out at a restaurant, or going on vacation. It seemed like the only time I never felt sick was at home. It was my safe place. Is it any wonder I never dated in high school? I probably would have had a heart attack while driving the poor girl to the movies. And you can imagine what I thought about a first date at a restaurant, which would require me to be calm enough to eat.

My issues continued throughout my teenage years, and didn't go away when I went to college. My parents were attentive and recognized what was going on, and at some point they sent me a book about panic attacks. It mentioned the word "agoraphobia", and when I read more about it I knew I was reading about myself. New situations, or situations that didn't leave me a quick exit option, completely terrified me. I was a freshman in college... how many new situations do you think pop up during that year?

I surived my freshman year. Barely. I remember the day I was supposed to give a speech to my Honors English class. It was mid-September of 1994, and I was wearing my only suit (blue, of course), walking across campus to go give my speech about the baseball strike's impact on the national economy. Only I didn't think I could actually do it. At one point I stopped, leaned against a tree, and visualized what would happen if I just skipped class. Skipped the whole college thing. Went home, got a low-paying job, and played it safe for the next sixty years or so. As boring as that vision may sound, I seriously considered it. But I didn't follow it. I gave the speech.

I played college baseball my freshman year (as a walk-on) and did pretty well. The nausea was still there sometimes, but not every game. I guess I was more comfortable on the field that I was in social situations or public speaking settings. But intramural sports almost crushed me -- how weird is that? I could play baseball in front of 500 people with no problem, but low-level volleyball in front of 20 friends put me in a panic.

I read the book my parents sent me, and felt their love and thoughtfulness, but I just didn't find anything in it that I thought I could use at the time. Basically I just kept on surviving day-to-day, while trying to have fun without putting myself into places that would bring on an attack.

You may think I'm being extremely open here, but trust me, I'm skipping over lots of other stories. If you've ever been to college, think about all the fun times you had and new experiences you enjoyed (parties, friends, learning, sports, concerts, etc...). Those were a double-edged sword for me.

I graduated from college and was accepted into an MBA program, of which I would be the youngest student. I moved to Houston and started school, and on the first day we were formed into teams and given 5 minutes to prepare a 5-minute speech, followed by a Q&A session. Our topic was the sale of the Houston Oilers franchise, and how it would affect the city. My four other team members immediately selected me to give the speech. Crap. Here we go again. Those five minutes of preparation were among the worst of my life, as I wondered again if I would back out of this whole thing and just go home. But I made it, gave the speech, and eventually gained a reputation as one of the best public speakers of the class. But I never liked it.

I wish I could tell you that eventually I found the secret, the answer to solving the terror of agoraphobia. But I never did. Over time my panic attacks got fewer and fewer, and each new situation I conquered gave me just a tiny bit more comfort for the next one. I was never officially diagnosed, and I never had formal treatment. I also never ended up stuck in my room, with the entire world unreachable from my only remaining "safe place". But I was just a step away, and can certainly imagine an existence like that.

Why am I telling you all of this now? Maybe because on Sunday I'm scheduled to give a 5-minute talk at our church, which has over 900 members. There are two separate services so I'll speak twice, two hours apart and each time to about 500 people. My father-in-law is preaching that day, and he asked me to do a communion focus on the topic of "living for Christ".

I've done this kind of stuff before. Heck, I gave two full sermons at our last church. But this is my first time speaking at our new church, so it's a new situation. The old panic may come back, but I know it can be overcome. Not due to any special tactic or trick -- just the memory of dozens of previous attacks that were overcome, so it can be done again.

It will probably never go away completely, although there have been spans of months without a single glimpse of a panic attack. And what about my kids... how will I approach them if I see them dealing with the same thing? Perhaps I can just start with my own story, and assure them that they're not imagining it, they're not alone, and they can make it through.

My name is Michael, and I've struggled with agoraphobia.

Money, money, money!

Lots of stuff about money going on in our house lately. Here's the lowdown:

1 -- Getting Reamed

We got our hospital bill from Jack's intussusception situation a couple of months ago. If you haven't read it, or want a quick reminder, Jack had a collapsed bowel and needed the following treatment:

• Admission to the ER at Texas Children's Hospital.
• Ultrasound and X-ray to diagnose the blockage.
• One enema (using tapwater) to fix the blockage.
• One enema two days later (using air) to fix a recurrence.
• Total of 22 hours in the hospital, less than a day.

Final cost? Five thousand dollars.

The kid didn't even spend a full day in the hospital, and he basically needed a tube up his butt. Twice. Once it shot tap water into him (the nurses filled up the bag from the sink right before the procedure), and the other time it was just air. No fancy materials, no surgery, no anesthetic, no medicines... $5K.

I'm obviously grateful for the treatment, since that type of intestinal blockage is eventually fatal after a few days, if it isn't fixed. Still, five grand? We got the detailed bill with line-by-line costs, and each enema cost a thousand dollars. Ridiculous.

2 -- What a crock

We took the kids to get sandals a few weeks ago, thinking it would keep their feet cooler during the scorching Houston summer. I figured we'd spend about $10 each, but then they found the "Crocs" section. I'd seen these cheap-looking plastic shoes around, but figured they were just another sandal variety. I was wrong.

The kids did the cliched "please, please, please" routine, and then I looked at the price. $30 each. For tiny little kids' plastic sandals. No laces, no wireless capability or anti-air missiles... just sandals. I explained to the kids that we could buy them, but it would mean no dinners at their favorite restaurant (Escalante's) for a while -- we would need to save some money. It wasn't that we literally couldn't afford both the shoes and the dinner, but I'm trying to introduce the whole "cost" component to the kids. Every dollar you spend is a dollar that can't go somewhere else. It's about choices.

They chose the shoes. A few days ago Samantha tore the strap clean off her left one, after messing with it for quite a while. She was totally crushed, and understood that we wouldn't be buying her a replacement pair. Now she's wearing them anyway -- one Croc with a strap, one without.

Friday night she came to me and said, "Daddy, can we please go to Escalante's to eat? I'll even wear my tennis shoes." I think she may have missed the point of choices.

Escalante's was delicious that night, by the way.

Investing

Jack is having a really hard time letting me go to work in the mornings. He has been a true Daddy's boy lately and just doesn't want to be apart from me.

Finally, last Thursday, he said, "OK, Daddy. You go work and buy money." That's the language the kids use regularly -- Daddy goes to work so that he can buy money for the family.

Samantha then joined the conversation. "Yeah, go buy money so you can save it and get me tickets for college!"

7 things you probably don't know about me

I been tagged. By RedWifey. She wrote recently about "7 things you probably don't know about me", and now it's my turn. Here goes!

1. I don't know how to tie a necktie. I mean, I could do it if I had a computer where I could look up the instructions, and a spare hour to experiment until I got it right. Since I don't need neckties at work or church, I just never got the hang of it. My few ties in the closet are pre-tied.
   


2. I have three recurring nightmares or fears. Two happen in my sleep, but one while I"m awake. My two sleeping nightmares at that I : 1) check in the mirror and see that my teeth are loose, and start falling out 2) am startled to find that I'm back in school, and didn't realize that I was enrolled in a very tough class so I never attended it, leaving me a certain failing grade as the semester is almost over. My waking fear happens about once every six months, around 2am. I wake up suddenly and realize I'm actually doing the whole "grown up" thing -- wife, kids, job, house... it's all on me, and I'm hundreds of miles away from the home I grew up in... how shaky is it all? The feeling lasts about 20 seconds and then subsides, and I go back to sleep.



3. My perspectives on God, faith, salvation and redemption are so completely different than most people in my church and in my family that I've never really shared them (except with Jamie). I'm afraid of the consequences, and don't want to be a source of tension to those I love.



4. Most people think I have a good memory, but they don't know the half of it. Often I will fake that I barely remember something, and will talk in general terms about something I heard or read, when in actuality I remember the entire thing verbatim. I guess I do this so that I don't freak people out.



5. I was a jerk as a baseball player. My athlete persona is one of complete narcissism and superiority. For some reason, I had to feel like I was absolutely the best player on the field (Earth to Michael -- I probably was not actually the best player every game). Even though my playing days are over, I'm certain that the old persona would return for a softball game. Whenever I've tried to play "nice", it didn't work, and I didn't have fun.



6. I cook the breakfast for me and Jamie at least four days a week. The craziest part? It always has spinach in it. Yes, me, eating spinach. I make scrambled eggs mixed with shiitake mushrooms, baby spinach leaves, cheese and salsa. Sometimes we'll add turkey sausage on the side. We've been eating it for a few months now and are feeling better than ever -- it's been a healthy, consistent way for us to start our day.
   
   
7. I was born in Arkansas and now live in Texas, but really don't care for hunting or fishing. It's just not my thing. And in college, I even joined the "redneck" fraternity that was all hunting and fishing. I just thought they were great guys and wanted to be a part of the friendships. Even today I'll go hunting or fishing with my father-in-law, or my family during summer vacation, and I'll certainly teach my kids how to fish, but it's never something I'd choose to do with my time. I expect this may change as I get older (my dad would have never considered gardening at 30 years old, but now he loves it).

OK, that'll do it. :)

Hal and Rob, if you're up for it, if you're man enough... tag, you're it!

Happy Birthday to Jack

Jack (a.k.a. Jackie-boy and Jack-Jack) turns two today! The other day I found a message I wrote to Jack when he was born. At that point a baby is pretty much a clean slate, and as parents we really don't know what to expect from this person as they grow. That's reflected in what I wrote two years ago:

We pray that Jack will achieve much, but not at the expense of his
humility. That he will have a comfortable life, but not at the expense of
his dependence on God. That he will raise a wonderful family, and learn to
do it while also serving the family of God. Most important, we pray that
heaven will be different (more mansions, more souls, more love) because Jack
lived on Earth.

Now, though, we are starting to get an idea of who Jack really is. He has his own personality, strengths and weaknesses just like the rest of us, and his uniqueness call me to raise him in a different way than I raise Samantha. So for Jack's two-year birthday, here's a new message for him. From a father who is learning about his son, and wants to be nimble and wise enough to give him just the right start in life:

Son,

The last two years have revealed so much. Your grasp of language shows me that you will be quick and eloquent of tongue, which can be either an effective tool or a devastating weapon. Our goal is to help you see the power of your words.

Your physical recklessness is evidence of your pure joy in life, yet also tends to put you in harm's way. Our goal is to to keep you safe, while never squashing an ounce of your joy and energy.

Your excellent manners, always displayed without prompting, uncover a heart that is empathetic to others. Our goal is to nurture this, and to tune your ability to pick up on the subtle hints, good and bad, that will help you connect to people.

Your connection to me, and your separation anxiety while we're apart, is a novel and treasured experience. Who knew you'd have a "Daddy's boy" phase? My goal in this time is to be there, to show up, to be 100% connected in return. As your pass in and out of the different phases of life, I will still be here. My goal is to give you that stability and trust that no matter what happens to you, daddy is near.

I love you, son. Happy birthday.

What I looked for in a wife

I never really dated in high school, for a variety of reasons. The main reason is that I didn't ask anybody out. I wasn't the coolest guy in school, and although I was an athlete, I didn't play for any school teams, so I missed out on the whole "groupie" angle.

Had my first date in college before school even started. Met a girl in the registration line the day I moved into the dorm, and we ended up as a couple for our entire freshman year. She wasn't really a good person, and frankly had some pretty major problems, but I was a rookie in relationships and learned a lot of good lessons.

I came back my sophomore year dedicated to having fun. Lots of dates, no serious relationships, and the freedom to do whatever I wanted, with whomever I wanted, every weekend. That lasted until the first week of school when I met Jamie.

It dawned on me that I had been building up a profile of what I was looking for in a wife, even though it was a mostly subconscious process. I'm not one of those people who makes an actual list of desired traits in a partner, but we all have our preferences. It took my entire freshman year in a bad relationship to even begin to formulate what I actually did want in a girl.

So here's what I was looking for. Yes, most of it is cliched, but it's true:

• She had to be funny. On her own terms, not just able to laugh at my jokes.
• She had to be a strong personality, with confidence and fire and no ability to let the status quo rule. I wanted someone who could challenge me and surprise me for decades to come.
• I prefered a brunette. Something about dark-haired girls has always been attractive to me. Maybe it's a built-in genetic force of differentiation, to balance out my fair-haired and fair-skinned genes.
• She had to have clasically beautiful features. The kind of girl who looks great without makeup, and breathtaking with it. A girl who could put on a ballcap and still turn heads.
• She had to have life in her eyes and a great smile. You know what I mean by "life in her eyes". You've seen people who have it and don't have it.

That's pretty much the list. It's funny, because on a physical level, I couldn't even think of many women who fit my idea of beauty. Hollywood loves its blondes, and whenever a brunette was given a strong personality in film or TV, she was usually bitchy.

There was one girl I remember, the lead singer of a cheesy 80s band. Here she is in their big hit, "Breakout". Great smile, the kind that makes it look like that's the natural state of her face. A pretty face, but approachable and kind. That's what I wanted to see across the pillow every morning:

I think I ended up doing pretty well on the physical level. :) And any of you who have met Jamie know that she isn't lacking in the "strength of personality" department either, so I have no chance of getting bored on that front. I definitely married up.

Note: I fully admit that my "list" was probably shaped by Jamie, after I met her. Love works both ways.