James Lee Stanley

So I bought the house on the spot.    And because I was a veteran, I went to the government to get the G.I. Bill.  Never realizing what an incredible bureaucratic nightmare I was getting into.

The bank approved everything and though we were waiting for the G.I. Bill approval, the bank and the previous owners let me move in and just pay them rent until the loan cleared.

I had also take some time off from the road, and was just playing a few nights a week in town, to full houses, so it was rewarding as well as necessary to keep my edge on.   And I told everyone from the stage how I was buying a house.   I made it a very big deal, as I was proud of what I was doing and wanted to demonstrate that I hadn’t lost a mate…I’d gained a home.    Things got better for me, get it?

Then the caca hit the fan.   The G.I. Bill people suddenly had all these extra things I had to do to qualify and if I messed up on any of them I wouldn’t get the loan.

I had already moved out of my other home and made everyone aware that I had BOUGHT a house.   My ego was on the line and as I wandered through the Kafkaesque maze of bureaucratic madness, I became more and more frightened that I would have to move out of the house I had bragged about so much the previous three months.

Then one night, the BIG ANXIETY hit.   It was unbelieveable.   Every single fear I ever harbored came bubbling to the surface in the service of more fear.

I tossed and turned all night.   The sheets were truly soaking wet and there was actually a pool of sweat on my chest as my mind just beat me up…over and over again.

I became so frustrated and enraged by the whole thing that I sat up and screamed at the top of my lungs, “Look, you’ve already told me all these things a million times tonight.  I’ve heard every one of them.   Now I’m going to sleep.   If you come up with something new, WAKE MY ASS UP!”

I swear to you I did this.  Talked to my fear like it was a living, breathing adversary.   Then I closed my eyes and, perhaps because I was so exhausted from six or seven hours of this, I  DID go to sleep.

The day was weird, but I made it through all right.  That night, when I got into bed, it started again.  The same litany of fear.   Once again, I yelled at it.   Told I already heard this stuff.  That I was bored and they needed to come up with something new to get my attention.

Then I went to sleep.   I have never had another anxiety attack.

I don’t know whether this will help you, but it sure worked for me.   Do not give it any more attention.   Demand of your brain that you ignore this onslaught.   And keep demanding it until it happens.