Mi Vida Loca

Mi Vida Loca, by Pam Tillis, is one of my favorite songs. It glorifies a kind of wild, rootless life that I wish I could live. I sometimes fantasize about being a sort of gypsy, roaming from town to town, taking my home with me where ever I go. Having amazing adventures, seeing all the wonderful sights this world has to offer.

Japanese culture uses five elements to represent people: Iron, wood, stone, water and air. Me? I'm wood. All the way. And wood needs a place to put down roots. So, being a gypsy is pretty much out for me.

I'm Elisabeth, by the way. I live in a small town in Northern Indiana. I have two cats, two goldfish and one computer (which is where all my friends live!) I just recently moved into a new apartment. My old place was tiny, a virtual hole in the wall, and had no privacy. The door to my old place opened into a common area shared by 8 other apartments. To leave I either had to jump out the only window or venture into the Common Area and risk seeing my neighbors.

Don't get me wrong. I loved them all dearly. Okay, most of them. And that tiny apartment offered me the kind of second chance at life that most people never get. It was part of a program offered by the local Housing Authority called Transitional Housing. It was intended to help people who were chronic screw-ups (like me) get on their feet and stay that way.

And I was the kind of screw-up that usually winds up living in their parents' basement until they either a.) die or b.) get kicked out. You see, I have a lot of...issues. Well, I might as well get those out of the way now. I live with severe ADD, clinical depression and panic disorder. Those three diagnoses, combined with my own peculiar brand of social dysfunction had led me on a strange and winding path through life...with no real goal in mind.

I was always the odd one out in school. Picked on, laughed at, the butt of every joke. It was hard sometimes, but I managed to survive. I honestly didn't understand why nobody liked me. I was nice to people, never got in trouble, and mostly tried to stay out of people's way. I know now that my behavior was confusing for my fellow students. They didn't understand why I acted so...well I guess the word would be immature. I really didn't act my age most of the time.

There are many factors for that, a lot of which have to do with my unique family. Okay, they're weird. But I love them despite the weirdness. Or maybe because of it. At any rate, after high school I was no where near ready for college. I didn't have the money or the maturity to live away from home and attend school. So instead I moved out on my own and got the first of about a million jobs.

Over the next 10 years or so, I went from job to job. I would get fired or quit for one reason or another. In all honesty, I've had so many jobs I can't remember them all. Of course, this has it's advantages. For example, thanks to a month-long stint at a paint and wallpaper store, I now know more about painting than I would like to. So when someone wants to paint, I can advise them on brand and type and so on. Handy...I suppose.

Of course, I knew that going from job to job, barely making ends meet was not how I wanted to live the rest of my life. I wanted to be a musician. So I went back to college. Of course, that was a huge failure. I won't go into how badly I crashed and burned. Suffice it to say, I wish I hadn't done it.

After my first round in college, it was back to job-hopping. I was deeply unhappy in this life. Finally I found a small amount of security in a job at the local newspaper and a cute apartment nearby. I had also finally found the correct medication for my disorders and I settled into to a routine of sorts.

For the next two and a half years I went to work in the morning and came home around lunch time. Five days a week. Mostly. The longer I was at this job, the more unhappy I became. It wasn't the job, it was me. I wasn't doing what I wanted to do. Unfortunately, I didn't know what it was I actually wanted to do. So I just kept plodding along. Soon, I started calling off because I just couldn't bring myself to go to work. I couldn't even make myself clean my apartment.

Long story short, evicted and fired. This was when I discovered my salvation, the Housing Authority. I moved into to the teeny, tiny apartment with my cat, Eartha Kitty in June of 2007. It was there that I met Pat, a social worker with the Housing Authority. She counseled me through so many of my issues. She explained things I didn't understand, helped to learn to deal with conflict and even taught me how to stand up for myself. She encouraged me to go back to college and get a degree.

After nearly 3 years living at the Housing Authority, I have made so many positive changes in my personality and lifestyle, people who knew me before barely recognize me. I was granted a Section 8 housing voucher, which basically means that I pay 30% of my income towards rent, the rest is covered by the government. Since I have no income, I don't have to pay rent. Handy, I suppose.

You may think it sounds like a glorious existence. Not working, living rent-free in a beautiful apartment. But it's not that great. See, we're back to my diagnoses. The Panic Disorder. I'm not sure I can describe how difficult it is to live with this illness.

A panic attack is like a nightmare. They're a little different for each person, in my case I get cold sweats, shake all over, feel like I'm choking on something, my heart pounds, I get dizzy and sometimes I feel like I'm dying. It's horrible. And without my medication I have these attacks 10-15 times a day. And when I'm not having panic attacks, I'm having anxiety. That's when I shake and get cold sweats and heart palpitations for long periods of time. It's not as bad as a panic attack, but it's not fun. There's no physical cause for it, it's just the way my brain is wired, I guess.

But thank God for my meds. With them, I only have the panic attacks a couple times a week, and they're not usually so severe. Even the general anxiety is milder, though not completely gone. Of course, outside influences can trigger anxiety and panic attacks - a fight with a friend or a car accident, or anything outside my comfort zone and routine. In all honesty, I have difficulty working up the courage to go into Wal-Mart. I prefer to shop at the same three stores all the time: Kroger, Dollar General and Wal-Greens. Anywhere else and I'm a nervous wreck.

Of course, there are many other aspects of my life that are influenced by my disorders. Travel is virtually out of the question. Adventure? I love to read about it or watch movies about it, but I couldn't handle it. Marriage? Well...If I could find someone who doesn't mind living with a mildly crazy woman and all her deranged routines, then maybe. Kids? God, I want kids so badly, but I can't have them naturally. I'd have to go off my meds if I got pregnant. I'm not sure I can handle that. So maybe I could get married and adopt a couple of kids. If the stars align properly. Oh, did I mention I'm about to turn 30?

I feel like I'm reaching my expiration date, marriage-wise. Which is ridiculous, lots of people wait until they're in their 30's to get married. Then again, those people probably aren't virgins when they do get married. (It's part of my religion, don't get hung up on it.) Most people actually date from time to time. For me, the prospect of a date sends me into a flurry of anxiety so bad that most of the time I wind up canceling, taking a Xanax and going to bed.

So, here I am. I'm actually at a place in my life that I kind of like. It's a quiet life, with my cats and fish and computer. But I have some wonderful friends that I love dearly, and a family that, while kind of strange, is also wonderful. Maybe Prince Charming will knock down my door and sweep me off my feet. And maybe, someday, I'll be able to finish my degree and not have to rely on Section 8 and food stamps. But for now, it's okay. It's peaceful and comfortable. I like that.

So, welcome to my crazy life.