These calls were long distance to persons I have never met in person — strangers who came into my life and had the capacity to shit on it. I told one I didn’t appreciate a letter threatening that a lien would be served on me if I could not pay –clearly a preemptive strike just in case I did not pay. American capitalism. By the end of the call I had calmly, dispassionately delivered my anger and had the secretary agreeing with me that it was all unnecessary and that the bill itself was exorbitant. That went fairly well. The second call was to an insurance adjuster who was a human being and held my hand through this misery. The projections I had of financial misery were alleviated by his telling me that much would be covered, even the exorbitant bill I received from the Capitalist. The third call was to a rental agent who also has taken care of my not inconsiderable anxiety and my inabilty to control or even master my anxiety about circumstances in another state. The fourth call was a promised call to the adjuster’s supervisor which entailed telling her that he had been more than efficient but kind, for lack of a better word. He had read my anxiety and worked with it. The night before I could not sleep well, trying to master myself, trying to handle phone calls that required me to be civil, sharp and acute, without fear!
I cannot describe the anxiety for it was composed of feeling states with a patina of the past which is always drawn into the present when I — or you — are threatened. These past two or three weeks are a period in which I have been attacked in my quick. I have no learnings to share or to consider as I feel macerated. After Monday, it all calmed down and a normal flow began to reestablish itself. I sometimes associate to the muselmanner in the death camps, worn out, diminished and lifeless, brought low by degradation. What I relate to is the feeling of just let me slip away. It is difficult to rally, to get off the mat and throw a few jabs. On this Monday I did just that. The passivity eased enough for the aggressivity to emerge. What I realized is that it all was not by intent, too subtle for that; it was more of necessity, of having to make these phone calls although I dwelt in pools of anxiety. I did fairly well.
I grew up in a family that was poor and money always an issue. If life wants to get at me, it attacks me here. And it did. In the pocketbook. I don’t have the resources to make my way. And these series of events rocked me, for I really don’t have much in savings; Jane and I just get by. I received the lien letter on a Friday and the entire week-end was abyssmal because I couldn’t call until Monday. I was under assault and I didn’t like the blame the victim game going on here. Again I had strangers reach out to me in kindness and understanding and another giving me distrust and jaundice. I learned more about goodness here than anything else. I will think about that for a long time. Anxiety is a circuit breaker; I had a few of the breakers thrown. A few reached in and corrected that. It is my psychological and characterological spine to be distrusting and this attack upon my anxious self gave me a vicious burst of sciatica. I am still leery of what next.
To be continued.
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