Tag Archives: safe house

June 12, 2012

gratitude at the center of the universe

By arlynnpresser

i have had a third dental surgery in less than as many weeks.  the trouble indicator on my car says “low tire”.  i spent yesterday filling a storage facility with all manner of furniture, boxes, musical instruments and paintings.  only to discover that there’s three overflowing closets in the house that i’m just a little unsure about.  my son broke up with his girlfriend and is considering making his way back home–just as home is being packed up and given over to a new owner.

what to do?  what to do?  what to do?

i don’t have an automatic thank you note generator like the presidents of the united states. but i do write a lot of thank you notes. i don’t send them all because some people who are so very good to me would probably get a little creeped out.

you might think that your day is something that happens to you.  the boss man tells you what to do.  your body parts either work or they don’t work.  people do and say things that are sometimes funny, sometimes loving, sometimes utterly irrational.

but i think life is something we can create.  and i guess i think of creation as including thank you’s.  even if the only thing you can say thank you to is the sun for rising in the east, that’s at least one thing that takes you outside of the controlled box and into the pilot’s seat.  sometimes i can’t think of anything except sun and coffee to be thankful for.  that’s all right.  but today i have a lot of things to be thankful for.  including my dentist.  and i will write him a thank you note.  i might toss that thank you note–which will encompass nancy his receptionist and laura his assistant–but i will write it and remember them.  i feel better already!

in 14 days, the presser home will become someone else’s home.  i am happy for the young couple who have purchased this place.  i am excited and just a titch worried about what happens next.  but i took a bike ride on saturday.  i ended up in phillo, illinois which claims as its village motto to be the “center of the universe”.  i wonder if NASA knows about this.  the center of the universe encompasses slightly under a square mile and has a population of 1,400.  its streets are named for presidents and i respect a town that doesn’t forget millard p. fillmore.

some of the people i have met this year have talked about “safe” places and “safe” people.  particularly the people with agoraphobia, post traumatic stress disorder or just general “damn this world is a lot more chaotic and strange than i think i can handle”. . . i think phillo taught me that the center of the universe, and the safest spot in the universe are always with me. . . . unless there are particular circumstances. . . .

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June 3, 2012

twenty three days before this homeless winnetka matron starts selling streetwise. . .

By arlynnpresser

packing up a quarter century of my life.  my ex-husband’s life.  the lives of my sons joseph and eastman.  and my stepchildren david and elisabeth.  the sighs–oh, that’s the second grade workshop project that eastman made me!  the delights–now i know where the hell the cheese grater ended up!  and the self-reproach–really, did i need four sets of dessert plates when i’m an eat the ice cream right out of the container girl?

and what exactly were seventeen of these doing behind the speakers in eastman’s bedroom?

 

life follows us.  and we decide how we mold our experiences.  i can be worried and scared about being twenty three days away from the closing on the house.  i can be excited because i am being given something that not a lot of people my age have–freedom to do exactly as i please untethered by the weight of responsibility to family or real estate.  i can course up and down through the emotional double helix while packing one set of teacups for my stepdaughter elisabeth.

is there something you’re enduring that you’re not too happy with?  what if you turned it upside down and looked at it as a blessing?  i’m not asking you to change your mind about it.  just two or three moments of thinking “i’m really happy that. . . .”  i’m not convinced i’m all that good at it–and my balloons are still stuck to the telephone wires.

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May 7, 2012

am i ready for new york?

By arlynnpresser

this morning, murphy my always and forever cab driver picked me up for the ride to the airport.  i had some exciting news for him.

well, maybe we’re going to have to work on our domestic bliss!  i told murphy i was off to see facebook friends in new york–and he wished me luck and took down my flight information so he could meet me upon my return.

one of the most common things for agoraphobes to do is to want to remain in their “safe” place.  that’s mostly their house, but sometimes it includes other places.  in the past, my “safe” place has, at its best, included my house, downtown winnetka, my kids’ schools, and the place where i climb on a stairmaster in the vainglorious hope that i shall look like elle mcpherson one day.  at its worst, my safe place has been my bedroom.  even the walk across the hall to the bathroom seemed iffy.

but last year, meeting my facebook friends in america and abroad, i have learned to make the safe place wherever i am.  it’s a discipline i have to remember every time i go out.  and sometimes it just doesn’t work.  i had three housebound days this week and i was really worried that i wouldn’t get to the airport.  the airport was crowding because a stormline was coming in and flights were being delayed, canceled, bumped.  i aimed for the nearest bar.

an airport bar is actually a great place to create a safe zone.  forget about those big planes outside the window, forget about the people rushing back and forth, forget about the announcements, just find the place nearest your gate and pretend you’re in your own neighborhood.  amongst friends. ..

 

look!  even mr. clark is making friends!  mr. william clark, as you know is the nineteenth century explorer best known for his travels (1803-1806) through the northwest with merriweather lewis — also known as the lewis and clark expedition.  clark died in 1838 but oddly, he has a facebook profile page, posts daily accounts of his travels and is my facebook friend (f2fb friend #60).  his biographer lanny jones (f2fb friend #59) sent me a Clark doll to remind me to explore fearlessly.  looks like clark’s doing a little exploring of his own. . .

mr. clark getting cozy with a teddy bear who was going home to new york with another traveler. i carry my william clark doll in my bag every flight i take and the back seat of my car? looks like a damn toys r’ us!

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April 26, 2012

the homeless agoraphobic

By arlynnpresser

the ex-husband and i edge closer to a house sale.  we have come to an agreement with the buyers on price and they’re doing an inspection with their contractor on monday.  tentatively, we’re closing on june 28.  that’s when i become homeless, but in a very nice way.   it’s not like i’m going to be roaming the streets asking people for spare change and telling them i’m an injured war veteran with six kids to support.

nope, we’re going to rename this blog THE HOMELESS AGORAPHOBIC and figure out what to do with the rest of this life.

nonetheless, it’s difficult as someone who has regarded this as my safe place to know it’s not my safe place anymore.

until i was three years old, i lived with my parents justin and aleta. they put up for adoption and the patrick family of western springs took me in. they immediately had me baptized in the methodist faith. this picture was from that happy sunday. my older sister sandra had also adopted by the patrick family. justin and aleta divorced about a year afterwards. i wasn't reunited with them until i was twenty five.

it’s impossible to hide from a three year old that they have been adopted and that they’re sporting new parents.  my name was changed to lynn melody patrick.  i wasn’t allowed to keep anything justin and aleta may have sent with me.  i was in a new place.  and i had new people to call mom and dad.

sometimes i think agoraphobia is the outsized desire to have the world be safe, manageable and unchanging.  weirdly, the world never is.

mrs. jewell patrick was a beautiful woman who was unable to bear children because of a hysterectomy when she was seventeen. she was quite a disciplinarian, sometimes locking me up in the basement or in a closet for misdeeds. then there was the belt. . . .but i started to be cool with being locked up if i could read a book. i think this is why i'm literate, not the public school system.

 

i ran away from home when i was in my early teens.  i was very proud that i could pack everything i owned in a single hefty garbage back.  i still have some of the books that i took with me.  later, i was placed in different foster homes.  again, it was a good skill to be able to keep all of one’s possessions in a tight space and be able to pack at a moment’s notice.

denise was one of my foster sisters. we exchanged class pictures and i keep hers--well, all of my foster sisters and one brother who is now a sister--in my safety deposit box. denise later became a police officer!

maybe last year was a blessing:  i spent so much time in airplanes, trains, hotels, automobiles, on the road, in the air, at the terminal, standing in line at customs, standing in line at security, that i’m going to be okay about this dislocation.

holly was the most beautiful foster sister i had. when i was in the same home as she was, peter frampton had just come out with his first album. holly would sit in a rocking chair, smoking cigarettes and listening to that album over and over and over again. . . if i ever see mr. frampton, i will implore him to not sing in my presence. it was just too much frampton, too much "do you feel like i do?" oh, shoot, now i'm not going to get that song out of my head. thanks a lot, holly!

 

my biological mother aleta did not appreciate having me find her when i was twenty five.  this was before facebook, before the internet,  jeez, i had to hire a private detective.  she didn’t want me in her life.  not when i was three years old.  not when i was twenty five years old.  and frankly. . . not now either.

i found out several months ago that aleta has a facebook account. i sent her a friendship request and a message telling her that she has two grandsons--joseph and eastman. ixnay.

 

in the meantime, i hope you’re looking up 572 lincoln avenue winnetka illinois on mapquest and thinking about a new or gently used children’s book you want to bring to the face 2 facebook party on saturday night.  starts at five o’clock, courtesy of arthur frank the owner, and concludes at eight.  i’ll be unveiling the new i-book “face 2 facebook”. . . .the first three chapters are free to you!  and if you’re a blogger or a writer–this is the future of how books can be constructed — can’t wait to see you there!

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