Sliding Down the Mountain in a Basket

Bronwyn Wilson

Description

Finding wonder and humor in a journey to live free of anxiety
Out of anxious childhood beginnings, Bronwyn Wilson developed an anxiety disorder. She worried about things that would never happen. She traveled no further than the grocery store. She quit driving over bridges, riding in elevators, entering parking garages, going out at night, and refused to ever board an airplane. As she worried about possible dangers, her world grew smaller while physical ailments grew larger. Doctors couldn’t find a biological cause for her hives, dizziness, and intestinal issues. Searching for answers led her to ask, how has this happened? What is anxiety? Where does it come from? Where does it lead? In her memoir, Wilson travels through the Mediterranean using the new coping skills she has learned.
How does she handle dangling in a gondola high above the town of Funchal, Portugal? How will she cope when she discovers herself sliding down a mile-long road in a wicker basket? What happens when she wanders the streets of Barcelona searching for underwear?
Wilson’s story offers a message of hope and humor for those suffering from anxiety, or for those who know someone living with it, or for those simply wanting an inspiring read. In addition, she offers nine recovery steps that helped her break free of anxiety’s grip and led her to physical and emotional well-being.

Sujets

• Self-Help
• Personal Memoirs
• Humor
• Biography
• Anorexia
• Self-help (disambiguation)
• Memoir
• Travel
• Fear
• Anxiety
• Autobiography
• Panic Attack

Informations

• Publié par: AuthorHouse
• Date de parution: 25 octobre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781665566193
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

Sliding Down the Mountain in a Basket
 
 
Memoir
 
 
 
 
Bronwyn Wilson
 
 
 
 

 
AuthorHouse™
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403
www.authorhouse.com
Phone: [phone]
 
 
 
 
 
 
© 2022 Bronwyn Wilson. All rights reserved.
Cover art by Marie Muravski
 
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
 
 
Published by AuthorHouse   10/20/2022
 
ISBN: 978-1-6655-6618-6 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-6620-9 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-6655-6619-3 (e)
 
Library of Congress Control Number: 2022913790
 
 
 
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
For Wendy,
               with love

For the memory of Beverley
Without her, many days would have been uninteres ting.
~written beneath her senior picture in her high school yearbook.

For all who have suffered, or are suffering, from anxiety and don’t care to read books written in doctorese.
With Gratitude
Jerry
For reading my work and giving me your honest feedback. For cheering me on and listening with a caring heart. For your love.
Tyler
For telling me I’m one of your three favorite writers. I forgot the other two. For your support, wise advice, and engaging humor.
Erin
For your loyalty, faithfulness, wisdom.
Kiera
For the immeasurable joy you bring to our world
Julie Mastel, Jennifer Herman, Emma Mastel, Nancy Edmondson, Aubrey Cowley, Linda Dully, Kathy Wilson and Jodee Johnson for your supportive friendship and all the laughs and fun times we share.
Teresa Fletcher and Peggy Parker Blue for being a light in my childhood and for the lifelong friendship we have.
Kathy Wilson for the encouragement you give me and for always making me smile.
AuthorHouse Publishing who brought this work across the finish line. Author/Coach Susan Pohlman for editorial guidance. Beth Hatcher, Grace Kowalski, Karen Stanton and Kathy Wilson for inspiring this revised edition.
Thank you to Dr. David Kosins for helping me see what I couldn’t see to live a free life.
Finally, I thank God, the Almighty, who has granted me countless blessing, grace, and salvation through Jesus.
 
 
Bronwyn, age 4, on Christmas morning with the sock monkey her grandmother made.
“Your story could be the key that unlocks some one else’s prison. Don’t be afraid to shar e it.”
Toby Mac
Contents
Author’s Note
Introduction
 
Chapter 1       Late Night Escape
Chapter 2       Decades Later
Chapter 3       Fish Guts
Chapter 4       2005 Panic
Chapter 5       Three Years Later
Chapter 6       First Day at Sea
Chapter 7       Lip Gloss Smiles
Chapter 8       Stepping Out the Door
Chapter 9       Clobbered by a Princess Wand
Chapter 10     Dining Back in Time
Chapter 11     Travel Brochure Promises
Chapter 12     Golden Moments and Flying Fish
Chapter 13     Master Card Wedding
Chapter 14     Get Your Pitter-Patter
Chapter 15     Madeira
Chapter 16     Elephants and Unmade Beds
Chapter 17     Laundromat Love
Chapter 18     Seville
Chapter 19     Gibraltar
Chapter 20     Cagliari, Sardinia
Chapter 21     Rome, Italy
Chapter 22     Moonface
Chapter 23     Tuscany
Chapter 24     Provence
Chapter 25     Gucci Envy Me
Chapter 26     Elevator Limbo
Chapter 27     Escape the Escape
Chapter 28     Hairy Artichoke
Chapter 29     Backyard Book Burning
Chapter 30     Final Port: Barcelona
Chapter 31     Mrs. B
Chapter 32     No Goodbyes
Chapter 33     Worthy Naranjas
Chapter 34     Going Home
 
Epilogue
Nine Steps to Anxiety Recovery
Author’s Note
Read this book in the way you would receive a long story told over many cups of coffee…with French vanilla creamer and whipped cream.
Sliding Down the Mountain in a Basket is a revised and updated edition of my memoir Five Minutes For France , published in 2014.
****************************
Introduction
Our ship docked in Barcelona.
I knew little about the town, other than the locals speak Spanish, dine on tapas, and prefer dinner at midnight. I knew it had a beautiful church I wanted to see.
After a two-week cruise through the Mediterranean, my husband Jerry and I disembarked our ship. We looked forward to spending a glorious time exploring Barcelona’s sights before flying home to Seattle.
In the ship’s terminal, I couldn’t locate my luggage among the stacked hodgepodge rows of suitcases and backpacks. Jerry found his immediately. One by one, passengers headed out with their bags in tow.
Everyone, but me, found their luggage. The ship’s crew searched in places I might not have looked. When they couldn’t find it, they promised to call me as soon as my suitcase turned up. I checked-in at the hotel with only a purse and the clothes I wore.
The mishap caused a desire within me to immediately replenish my lost clothing. I had no idea if I’d ever see my luggage again. I focused on underwear. I would survive the remainder of my trip without shirts and pants and pajamas. But not without underwear. I set out on Barcelona’s famed road La Rambla with an obsessed goal of purchasing underwear. Colorful mosaics, artists, mimes and musicians surrounded me. I didn’t stop to enjoy the carnival-like atmosphere of Barcelona’s famous street. I didn’t have time. I would revel in the sights later.
With my focus on acquiring underwear, I missed out on much of the joy of Barcelona’s beauty and mystique. Looking back, I see a similarity to the way I lived my life for many years. Rather than making room for the joy in my present circumstances, I focused on potential problems or dangers and how to avoid them.
Fixating on danger and seeking ways to keep myself safe wore me down over time. I experienced a full-blown case of hives, headaches, dizziness and intestinal difficulties. Not all at once, but at various intervals to keep me continuously unsettled. I trekked from doctor to doctor. Naturally I wanted a cure. Each doctor gave me the same diagnosis after exams and tests and much scratching of their heads. “You’re healthy. I can’t find anything wrong,” they told me. Did they think I made this up? I couldn’t believe it. How many doctors does it take? Fifteen? Twenty-one? Maybe forty? But who’s counting? Not one doctor could find anything wrong. To quote my husband Jerry, “No wonder they call it a practice.”
The parental admonition to “be strong” and “never be a sissy” haunted me from a young age. I believed the erroneous idea that admitting to fear, anger, and sadness demonstrated weakness. In my show of false bravery, I deprived myself of personal growth as well as happiness and freedom. I didn’t tell anyone of my inner struggle, not even Jerry. I wandered alone in the dark caverns of my self-imposed entrapment.
I didn’t connect my inner world with my physical ailments. I felt exasperated by the few people in my life who didn’t have a medical degree, yet felt qualified to diagnose my condition. I clearly remember a friend calling to give me a secondhand diagnosis, “Penelope says your problems are due to your nerves. But she says you won’t listen!” Nerves! Hah! The nerve of her to say nerves. I continued my search for a biological cause.
This memoir follows my journey with anxiety: how it developed into bouts of panic, my search for a cure, what I discovered, and how I recovered. It also follows a scenic journey through the Mediterranean where I practice new coping skills.
This is a true story. In some instances, I’ve imagined details, or converged scenes, in an effort to convey the truth of the experience or to cover for memory gaps. (No one remembers the name of the hamburger joint we patronized at midnight. Was it Zingers? Zippy’s? Maybe Swanee’s?) I altered some sequences for context and flashbacks. Many names, and characteristics, have been changed for privacy.
My account in no way means to discredit my dad’s desire to be a good parent. Everyone has, at times, given and received relational injuries. This isn’t to excuse hurtful behavior, only to understand we all have emotional wounds and that forgiveness of others and of ourselves is the only way to heal.
Wherever you are in your life travels−if anxiety has you in its grip, I hope my journey might help you in yours. If you’ve never experienced anxiety’s debilitating stronghold, it’s my hope you’ll gain insight into anxiety disorders, a condition that affects millions.
My story begins late at night in 1961...
1
Late Night Escape
Garden Grove, California 1961
Papa doesn’t know our secret.
I’m in bed with the lights out. I have my play clothes on and my saddle shoes tied tight. I’m ready to go when Mom gives the signal. I can’t fall asleep. My little sister Wendy can’t fall asleep either. She’s in bed with her clothes on too.
I hear Papa snoring in the next room.
“SNUFFLE, SNOCKKKK-CHOO.”
It’s so loud the neighbors probably hold their hands over their ears.
My stomach feels like twisted rubber bands. What if he wakes up while