Category Archives: High Anxiety

School’s Starting! Let’s Go to the Pool!

Posted in Education and Teaching, High Anxiety, Tributes by

When I’m not writing about stuff, I help teachers, teach. Uh-oh! So now that part of me is out of the closet on this blog. Yikes!

Prior to admitting that I teach teachers, (I did teach kids for 30 years first) I outed myself in this blog for being:

  • a fake foodie
  • a pear-shaped clothing shopper
  • an inept cook, social media user, hiker, dieter, etc. etc. blah blah.

Then I outed myself as a gephyrophobic. That’s a fancy word for a person who is afraid of being or driving on a bridge. I prefer to use my own made-up word, Brobic.

From my background as a phobic, I was hooked by The NY Times Article, “Terror Conquered, the Water’s Fine.” Written by N. R. Kleinfield, the article’s tag was “A New Yorker Faces His Phobia, One Stroke at a Time.” It was about a 33 year old guy, Attis Clopton, who was afraid of swimming. After suffering  with his aquaphobia  for years, Attis signed up for swimming lessons.

As I read  his story, I forgot that I was originally hooked by the phobia angle. I was caught up in the methods,  an old teacher word, that teacher, Lori Pailet, used  to help Attis learn to swim and overcome his fear.

The story showed a teacher at work, a damn fine teacher. Most teachers I know are damn fine teachers too. Some of you will look at the article and say the man in this story  was “ready to learn,” and that’s why it worked. I don’t know.

I do know that we, teachers get all kinds of kids. Some of those kids are “ready to learn,” and some of them are not. Good teachers do their very best to reach them all. Hats off to Lori Pailet, and to all great teachers!

Here’s the link to the story: http://nyti.ms/1pPOPYU

Can I Laugh My Way Through Panic Attacks?

Posted in Advice, High Anxiety, Humor, Tributes by

Yesterday I watched a wonderful Huff Post Live broadcast called Mental Health: Living With Anxiety. Thanks to the moderator and panelists who shared their experiences with phobias and panic attacks. The link to the program is below this post.

Here in my blog, I have begun to write about my own panic attacks on bridges, planes, mountains, and let’s just say, “anything that goes up, high.”

Here in this blog, I can be real smart. I can invent solutions, laugh and make cracks about heads floating up in the sky when we, panic attackers, are having our out of body experiences.

When I am not here in this blog, I am not so smart.

Let’s take Saturday night when my husband, Jerome the Great and Good, and I were heading to a restaurant in Queens.  He was driving and I was giving directions. Missing the access to the main part of the Queensboro Bridge, he drove on to the lower level. In seconds, we entered a rickety, single, OUTSIDE lane, which was once used as a trolley track. We were there with nothing between us, the East River and the rooftops of Manhattan and Queens, but a teeny-weeny, rusty, ripped up fence.

So, during that time, when I was not here in my blog, I did not say funny things.

I did sweat, hyperventilate, clench, pound, moan and pray.

And, in case you were wondering, I cursed; but I did not use the word “doodyhead” like I do here in my blog. Sometimes, “doodyhead” just doesn’t cut it.

I am fortunate that I will still travel on bridges, planes, even an occasional tram up a mountain. But nine times out of ten, it will be a hellish experience for me.

The thing is I keep living to tell about it.

For that, I say thanks to all those others who have shared their own stories and research. Thanks again to Scott Stossel, author of My Age of Anxiety, one of my favorite books, for tweeting and reminding me of the Huffington Post Live broadcast.

Also, thanks to the wonderful moderator and panelists at Huffington Post Live for their insight. The link to the program is below.

And I will continue to make attempts to look at the light side of all my stuff. Believe me, it would be a heck of a lot easier to write about only the dark side, but what fun would that be?

http://live.huffingtonpost.com/r/segment/anxiety-in-america/53eaaa3778c90ab003000010

 

 

Gephyrophobics! Let’s Unite!

Posted in High Anxiety, Humor by
Photo Credit: danmachold via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: danmachold via Compfight cc

My name is Rose, and I am a gephyrophobic,  a person who is afraid to drive over bridges.

(Welcome Rose.)

I am worried that the New NYBridge being built in New York to replace my beloved (barf) Tappan Zee Bridge will make me go nuts. I want to connect with others out there who also freak out when driving on a high road, up in the air, over water, without nets. We need representation.

If nothing is done to assuage our fears, when the New NYBridge is finished in 2018, those of us oppressed with panic attacks, may be forced to stay on one side of the Hudson for the rest of our lives!

From my side on the west, Rockland County, I might never be able to drive east to Westchester County and its pricey malls and restaurants. My bridge-fearing friends from Westchester may never come to visit us poor folks in Rockland County, which many Westchester people feel is a vast wilderness, close to the Adirondacks.

I’m suggesting we, gephyrophobics, form a task force designed to address our concerns. First thing I’d suggest is that we change our name to Brobics (bridge+phobics). Catchy, don’t you think?  I have tried to network with Important Bridge People (IBP) so that when they hear the chilling words, “Rosie and The Brobics are coming,” they will quake with fear. Knowing that we have the power to deliver hoards of Brobics for protests, boycotts, and basic acts of civil disobedience, they will immediately address our concerns.

For starters, Important Bridge People, as you convene your task force to listen to our concerns, it would be nice if you could set up that “drive-over” service. That way Brobics from both sides of the Hudson can meet as one group, on terra firma.

Thank you. Fellow Brobics out there, we need to get together and form a slogan and mission statement. All ideas are welcome.

How Scared are You Crossing that Bridge? There’s a Scale for That

Posted in High Anxiety, Humor by

If, like me, you’re the type who hates driving over bridges, you can probably relate to the one to ten scale that we, gephyrophobics use to measure our anxiety.

A zero to one self-assessment score means you are calm while driving over the bridge.

How calm are you?

You could be eating a liverwurst sandwich with one hand, holding a nice glass of cabernet sauvignon in the other hand, and a tornado could be swirling around you.

A ten self-assessment score means you are very scared while driving over the bridge.

How scared are you?

You’re in that same tornado, but this time:  your sweaty palms separate from your arms; your head exits your body and catapults straight to Neptune; and you feel like your car’s steering wheel is spinning like that nice little girl’s head in The Exorcist.

And, the liverwurst sandwich you ate last night is break-dancing on your left ventricle!

But one thing, at least for me, is true. I still drive over bridges, and after my Ten comes back down to a Zero, I get this crazy idea to write about the experience and maybe help someone else.

Building Bridges: Fun for Phobics

Posted in High Anxiety, Humor by

Yesterday I drove on my favorite nightmare, The Tappan Zee Bridge. It occurred to me as I was approaching the bridge that there is no net under it.  That’s when my panic attack started. Things that are up high should have nets under them, don’t you think?

Currently, the building of The New NY Bridge is moving ahead. I see all sorts of exciting elements that are going to be included in this New Tappan Zee Bridge, but meanwhile I’m still riding over the Hudson on the old bridge. Nowhere do I see any kind of net, old used mattress, or, even a shore to shore trampoline.  Something must be done. I hope the master bridge builders will do a study on including a net under the New Tappan Zee Bridge.

Driving across the existing Tap, if you’re brave enough to turn your head, you expect to see nothing but sky and seagulls. Not so. There are these grotesque mechanical monsters with flags on their heads, and they are looking down on you. Yikes. They are bridge cranes and they look diabolical. They make me think of Godzilla, a really bad dude who liked to destroy apartment houses, train trestles and bridges.

One day, I found a solution to the Godzilla problem. As I was driving, I pretended I was Fay Wray and the cranes were King Kongs. King Kong loved Fay, and it was a great love story. Maybe if the cranes, grow some fur, I’ll be less fearful. Now, the part about climbing the Empire State Building? Well, maybe only to the second floor.

Are you nervous driving over bridges?

 

 

Four Women Drive Together for Eleven Years…Over a Bridge

In 1976, we four women going back to work were the outliers. Most of the other mothers were at home, with their children.

We had no cell phones. Between us, however, we did have husbands, bills to pay, monthly periods and nine kids. When we started our carpool, the oldest kid was seven; the youngest, was learning to walk.

We were returning to full time teaching from maternity leave. We did not know each other before we met on that September day in 1976.  I was the oldest at 31, and Ellen was the youngest at 29.

For the next eleven years, our merry carpool crossed the Tappan Zee Bridge from our homes on one side of the Hudson River to the school where we all taught on the other side. On a good day, it would take us 40 minutes. On a bad day, it could take two hours.

On our daily ride, when we weren’t sleeping, sulking or squabbling, we talked to each other. We became friends.

Things change. Our carpool ended in 1987, and then, we all drove to work separately until each of us retired.

I am writing this because I read that The New Tappan Zee Bridge when it is finished in 2018 is going to probably have only electronic tolls. What fun is that? In 1976, when we carpooled, we paid $1.50 to cross and we actually touched the hand of another human being at the toll!

Technology changed. You may be reading this, now, on your phone or pad or whatever. I can’t keep up. You may also have children, husbands, bills and monthly periods, or not, if you’re old like me.

It’s hard to be a working mother. I know. It’s also hard to be a stay-at-home mother. I know that too. Now, because of technology, some of you can do both at the same time.  How’s that for a change? I think it’s for the better, but I am sure there are those of you who will disagree. Let me know.

When they tear the Old Tap down and replace it with the New Tap, it will be a celebratory event.

I, however, will be remembering those eleven years when I rode to work with my friends…

…even that time when one of us, in a snit, drove over the bridge while furiously pounding her hands on the steering wheel, and screaming in exasperation at me, the one with the fear of driving over the edge into the Hudson below.

But, for now, that’s all water under the bridge.

The True Story of Rip Van Winkle, by a Gephyrophobic

Posted in High Anxiety, Humor by
Photo Credit: edenpictures via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: edenpictures via Compfight cc

I have a different view on Washington Irving’s beloved tale, Rip Van Winkle.

As you probably know  Rip Van Winkle takes place in the glorious Hudson River Valley. Rip, leaves his shrewish wife at home and sets out for the mountains. There he meets some new friends, some of them very short. They all drink too much and go bowling. Then Rip falls asleep for twenty years. He wakes up and discovers he has slept through the entire American Revolution. Bummer.

Now ponder this, “How can anyone sleep for twenty years?

I believe Rip must have drunk a helluva lot of booze to sleep that long. Or, he probably ingested a powerful herbal similar to, let’s say Xanax?

“But why,” you ask, “would Rip need such an herbal?”

The answer is, “He needed the powerful herbal because he was having a panic attack.”

“Why was he having a panic attack,” you may ask.

The answer is “Because he wanted to go with his new friends to the other side of the Hudson River where he learned that there was even better food, partying and outdoor activities.

You wonder, “Why couldn’t Rip go with his buddies to the other side of the Hudson?”

The answer is “Because he was afraid to cross the bridge his buddies had built.”

“Why was he afraid,” you ask.

My answer is, “Because the bridge was swaying and Rip had gephyrophobia, a fear of bridges.”  My theory is Rip ran down to the shore every day to try to get the nerve to cross that damn bridge. He’d start out, take a step and turn back. Then, he’d try again the next day. Then he’d chomp on some of his herbal remedies and probably practice some deep breathing.

One day, he took too many herbs, and his new friends got disgusted with him. They left him on his side of the bridge, for twenty years. Also, they stole his gun and his dog.

Today there really is a bridge across the Hudson River called the Rip Van Winkle Bridge.

There are a few other bridges too…like the George Washington Bridge and The Tappan Zee Bridge. I live close to The Tappan Zee Bridge….note the use of the word ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ…I think it’s secret code to remember Rip’s snooze.

Somebody must have been snoozing when they built The Tappan Zee Bridge because now they have to build it all over again.

I really feel for Rip Van Winkle and his problems because I am a gephyrophobic too. I do drive to “the other side,” but, I never know when “It” the panic attack is going to hit. When “It” attacks, unlike Rip, I power my way through it and then say, “never again.” But that’s the thing about living in the Hudson River Valley; whether you are on the west side or the east side of the Hudson River, you will need to cross over to the other side at different times in your life. For some of us, that can be a challenge, but we persevere.

No one has more sympathy, empathy, or whatever you call it, for others out there who are afraid of driving over bridges, particularly high ones. As the New Tappan Zee Bridge and other bridges are being built in this great country,  let’s share our stories.

 

 

 

 

Heights and Bridges: Going Over the Edge!

Posted in High Anxiety, Humor by
Photo Credit: churl via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: churl via Compfight cc

Here is a lovely picture of a big, tall, bridge. Now look up at the big blue sky over the bridge.

Do you see a woman’s head floating around in the big blue sky over the bridge?  The head has dyed brown hair, eyeglasses and a mouth, wide open, screaming.

The head belongs to a woman who is having an out-of-body experience.

The rest of her body is driving (sort of) down there, on the highway on the bridge, three lanes north and three south. The woman’s body is driving south and her car is straddling the center and inside lane. Next to her car, in the outside lane, is a huge tanker truck. Way up in the sky, the woman’s head secretly thanks the tanker for blocking her view of the edge of the bridge. Bridges and their edges make her have panic attacks like she’s having now.

The problem with having panic attacks on bridges and going 11 mph while straddling two lanes in a 50 mph zone, is sometimes other drivers get angry. They line up behind the woman’s car and honk or tailgate. Up in the sky, her head sees them banging on their steering wheels in total frustration, and she feels their pain.

Her head tries to will her body to relax. “Breathe.” she commands her faraway body. “Count to ten. Sing! ‘The farmer in the dell. The f–ker in the dell. Hi ho…’” It’s useless. She can’t get enough air to get the words out.

“This will be the day that I die,” she thinks.

Meanwhile down in her body, her sweaty hands clutch the steering wheel. She prays that her hands won’t slip on the steering wheel and send her over the edge of the bridge. “Over the edge! That’s a funny one.” She’s already over the edge! Up in the sky, her floating head enjoys the irony.

At last it’s over. As her car arrives at the end of the bridge and on to solid road, the woman’s head falls from the sky and reconnects with her neck and the rest of her body. She is spent.

“Never again,” she says. “I will never do this again, as long as I live.”

But she lies.  She still drives on bridges, climbs mountain ledges, and rides up the old wooden rickety escalator at Macy’s to the 7th floor Woman’s Department.

So, if you are in some high place, and next to you  is a wacky pear shaped woman, introduce yourself.

You might hear her say, “Hello. My name is Rose, The Nothing Expert, and I am afraid of lots of things that go up.”

“Welcome Rose,” you might say. “You’re among friends.”

Night Terrors in the Bedroom

Posted in High Anxiety, Humor, Technology by

 

Photo Credit: Dia™ via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: Dia™ via Compfight cc

Three a.m:  “Chirp. Chirp.”

She wakes.

Uh oh. The window’s open. The screen must be broken.  There’s a bird in the house.

Ridiculous. Go back to your dream.

I think it’s flying around the living room.

What if it’s not a bird? What if it’s a bat?

If it’s a bat, then we’ll have to go for rabies shots.

No, get a hold of yourself. Bats don’t make sounds. They use that echolocation stuff.   It’s one of our phones.

We just charged our cell phones. It must be the smoke detector.

“Wake up, Jerome.” He snores.

Chirp!  Chirp!

Oh my God! What if it’s the carbon monoxide detector? Do we even have a carbon monoxide detector? Is it that red and white thing that’s been hanging in the basement for twenty years? There must be a gas leak. I must be delirious, probably dying from the poison gas.

“Jerry, wake up. We gotta get out of here. I think we are unconscious. We’re dying.”

He snores.

She tiptoes out of the bedroom to investigate.

Chirp! Chirp!

The noise is definitely coming from behind her, in their bedroom.

She whirls and steps back. “Oh my God, Jerry!  It’s in this room. I think someone has been recording us.”

“Boring movie,” he speaks for the first time. He turns over.

Who had done recent work in their house?  Cable guy? Electrician? Which one of them installed the camera? She looks up at the ceiling fan. Was that little button there last week?

She looks down at her bleach stained green tee shirt and ratty sweats, and then at her snoring husband.

“You’re right,” she says as she gets back into bed, “pretty boring.” She gives a quick wave to the ceiling fan, pulls the covers to her neck, and goes back to sleep.

 

Nuts on a Plane

Posted in Food: Getting It and Eating It, High Anxiety, Humor by
Photo Credit: faungg's photo via Compfight cc

Photo Credit: faungg’s photo via Compfight cc

Nuts are soothing to eat, especially on a plane, during turbulence. Next time you fly through turbulence, look around. If you see a passenger resembling a deranged beaver gnashing savagely on her peanuts,  share your own measly pack of peanuts with her. Chomping those nuts with ferocity might just calm her enough to keep her in her seat and save all of you from the sight of her running through the plane, ripping off her clothes, and screaming, “I wanna get out.”

Gnashing nuts is definitely better than being nuts. As I am quite capable of both gnashing and being nuts on a plane, I read lots of stuff about my fear of flying. Once I even spoke to a pilot about my fears of turbulence. He suggested that I think of the plane (with me in it) as a grape sitting on a bed of Jell-O (the air).

“The grape,” he said,  “might get jostled but it will never fall through the Jell-O.”

I embraced this grape comparison as a compliment because in the past, I had always been likened to a pear, particularly when buying clothes.  If given a choice of being a grape and sitting on a bed of Jell-O, or being a pear and sitting in the middle seat on an airplane, while playing the “keep my thigh from rubbing your  thigh” game with the window and aisle passengers, I’d definitely opt to be the grape.

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Photo Credit: Mez Love via Compfight cc

Let’s go back to the nuts. I used to buy a whole bag of them at the airport concession stands before I got on my flights. It was worth paying a price almost as high as my plane ticket to have my little crunchy comforts in my seat pocket. Then, hurrah!  I flew Southwest! The peanuts and snacks at Southwest are freeeeeeeeeeeee! Yippee! On my last flight, the flight attendants came through the cabin on their first pass  and they tried very hard to make eye contact when they handed us our snacks. On their second pass, however, our keepers, oops, flight attendants  tossed our snack packs at us, and some of us, so happy to be fed for free, were leaping in the air to catch our little feed packs.

It’s all good, however. Gnashing nuts is a much better way to reduce flying anxiety than being tackled by six burly passengers, and then being restrained in my seat by their neckties, belts and shoe laces.  And, remember! On Southwest, the nuts are free!

Photo Credit: N00/4775842363/”>faungg’s photo via Compfight cc