I Made It Through the Rain: A Story About Overcoming Panic Disorder

By Robert Sterling

Being a son of a multi-millionaire and growing up in the Hollywood Golden Era, Robert Sterling had it allthe looks, the wealth, the freedom, and the attitude. The future seemed guaranteed and unquestionable until the life as he knew it began to crumble. At the age of 17, following a routine appendectomy in Burbank, California, Robert developed Panic Disorder and Agoraphobia. Fear became his new dictator, and after being omitted from his father's will, Robert's life began a rollercoaster ride evolution. This book is a diary of quest for survival and the true meaning of success.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 3, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462056002

Robert Sterling

Robert Sterling was born in Los Angeles, California, December 20th, 1939. Because his father was enormously successful as a land developer and commercial building contractor, Robert grew up in affluence. He attended UCLA and California State Northridge, graduating with a degree in Business Administration, and later earning his living as a Real Estate Broker. Having been married twice, Robert has a son by his first marriage and a daughter by his second marriage. After a lifetime of living in California he now resides in North Carolina.

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Contents

Foreword

Preface

Acknowledgements

Introduction

1

Diary

2

Stories

PAPA FALLING IN A HOLE

THE CASE OF THE RED SWIMMING POOL

DAD HITTING HEAD ON DOORS AND TREES

DAD SHOOTING DOWN THE KITCHEN WALL

POLICE CHASE

STEALING A ROW BOAT

THE HIGH PRICE FOR CONFORMITY

WIPING FOOD WITH A TIE

MY PITY PARTY

MY INDUCTION IN THE US ARMY

MY FIRST JOB

CAR ACCIDENT

ROLLER COASTER RIDE WITH BARBARA

MY FIRST LOVE

DANCING ON A MOUNTAIN TOP

HISTORY OF MITZVAHS (GOOD DEEDS)

EDDY AND THE ZBT FRATERNITY

GRADUATING DOG

MY COUSIN RONNIE

I WAS A MALE PROSTITUTE FOR ONE NIGHT

AMERICAN AIRLINES

ATLANTIC RICHFIELD

REVLON

FIFTH GRADE SCHOOL TEACHER

DR. SOLON SAMUELS AT GATEWAY HOSPITAL

DR. ARTHUR B. HARDY

MATTRESS ON FREEWAY

LUNCH WITH THE BOSS

MAN HITTING FENCE WITH MOTORCYCLE

THE STORY OF BOXIN’ BOB

THE DON RICKLES SHOW

JAP & JEW ENTERPRISES

ADULTERESS ADVENTURES

MY SECRET TO SUCCESS AS A PHOBIC

PARKING IN A HANDICAPPED PARKING SPACE

PUTTING MAIL IN THE GARBAGE CAN

1985 TRIP TO EUROPE WITH MY FRIEND BARRY

MY COUSIN FELECIA’S WEDDING

GUN AT SAN JOSE AIRPORT

GAS MAN IN MISSION VIEJO

GRAPE STORY

MICHAEL’S ESCAPADES AT MY WORK

LAWRENCE WELK TIME-SHARE SALESMAN

DADDY LIKES TO TOUCH PRIVATE PARTS

FBI INVESTIGATION

ACCIDENT PRONE

FIRE DEPARTMENT AND BARBEQUE

ALISON AND THE CONDOM

DIGGING THE WRONG GRAVE

STEALING THE BIBLE

THE GUINNESS BOOK OF RECORDS

FAITH IN GOD

CIRCUMSTANCES DON’T MAKE US WHO WE ARE, THEY ONLY REVEAL US TO OURSELVES

3

Message of a Survivor

Epilogue

About the Author

To all sufferers of Panic Disorder and their loved ones with hope that this writing will both educate and help find inspiration.

Foreword

CHAPTER I is a diary portion of this book, which I started on a hot summer evening in Basking Ridge, New Jersey in 1994. It describes the up and down struggle of living with Panic Disorder and Agoraphobia. The words in this diary can easily be interpreted as my pity party, but it portrays, in real time, the anguish I experienced with not being able to function as a normal human being.

CHAPTER II is a GROUP OF chicken soup stories from my childhood until the present, which convey humor and tragedy as I suffered throughout my life with this affliction and handicap.

CHAPTER III has been completely revised since this book was published in 2002. It portrays my message on what it means to be a survivor with a new refined perspective 10 years after the previous publication. This really defines the meaning of genuine success in life in spite of suffering with Panic Disorder and Agoraphobia.

Preface

HOLD ON

What you’ve got to do is

Finish what you have begun.

I don’t know just how,

But it’s not over ’til you’ve won

When you see the storm is comin’,

See lightning part the skies,

It’s too late to run,

There’s terror in your eyes.

What you do then is remember

This old thing you heard me say—

It’s this storm, not you,

That’s bound to blow away!

Hold On! Hold on to someone standin’ by,

Hold on! Don’t even ask how long or why,

Child, hold on to what you know is true,

Hold on ’till you get through

Child, oh childhold on

When you feel your heart is poundin’,

Fear the devil’s at your door,

There’s no place to hide, You’re frozen to the floor.

What you do then is you force yourself

To wake up and you say—

It’s this dream not me,

That’s bound to blow away!

Hold on! Hold on the night will soon go by,

Hold on! Until there’s nothin’ left to try

Child, hold on, there’s angels on their way,

Hold on and hear them say,

Child, oh child

And it doesn’t even matter, If the danger and the doom,

Come from up above, or down below,

Or just come flyin’ at you

From across the room

When you see a man who’s ragin’,

And he’s jealous and he fears,

That you’ve walked through walls

He’s hidden behind for years,

What you do then is you tell yourself, to wait it out

And say—it’s this day not me,

That’s bound to go away!

Child, Hold on—

It’s this day not you,

That’s bound to go away.

Acknowledgements

My mother Ada Levin for not giving up on me

My children, Michael and Natalie

Dr. Solon Samuels, MD

Dr. Arthur B. Hardy, MD

Dr. Richard Gellar, MD

And Maxim, for the design of this book’s cover

And Natalie Sterling for Editing

And Jessica Handy for Editing

Introduction

This is a book about real success and hope for three percent of the American population afflicted with Panic Disorder. This is not a story about a person who weighed 300 pounds, lived in social and financial devastation, only to get it together; and who now owns a beautiful home, a Mercedes Benz, a yacht, a Lear Jet and is happily married with children, with a perfect body to boot. How many books are written which give one the message of buying this or that to/in order to be successful like me. Is this success? I think not.

Let me tell you what real success is all about. It’s about overcoming fear and addiction to become a functional human being. It’s about tearing away from the illusion that you have a safe place or that you have a safe person. To understand that each one of us is a contained organism onto ourselves and that we have been given everything that we need in great abundance to live independently from each other, and all this security we think we need is the great illusion. Even to think that having loving friends and family can somehow save us is also an illusion.

There is a saying that we all are born alone and die alone, that is the ultimate reality. Given this truth, if one can make any relationship work while living, it is to be considered a bonus that one should not take for granted and that one should be appreciative. The point is that many of us with phobic and/or Panic Disorder have lived our lives house bound in order to AVOID PANIC. In principle, it is simple, we have a major panic attack and think we are going to die, go crazy, lose control, make a fool of ourselves, etc. in a place that is away from our so-called safe place or safe person(s). Our minds then associate the panic with the place and subsequently we avoid the place so that the panic will not be experienced again. We are fine until we have a reaction in a different place and this scenario continues until we don’t want to leave an environment where we are confident that we will not panic. The truth is that there is no safe place.

Agoraphobia is the name given to an experience, which is written in the dictionary to mean fear of the market place or fear of open spaces. After having the severe condition for 54 years, I can tell you without reservation that Agoraphobia is the fear of panic. Franklin D. Roosevelt’s famous quote is There is nothing to fear but fear itself. The fear of fear is what keeps millions of people from becoming productive members of society with the freedom to pursue their dreams. What a tragedy that most of our prisons are self-imposed and we don’t know the way to be free. It is therefore my purpose to enlighten you so that you can, again, smell the roses and feel the breath of fresh air once again. Mental health professionals write many books on this subject. My book is written by a man, now 71, who spent 54 years in agony before he overcame this personal affliction. This is a book about profound and real Success.

1

Diary

As a child, I noticed I had several minor compulsions, like having to walk out the same door I walked in and doing things in two’s, such as brushing my hair. Also, I recall that I was superstitious about finishing a glass of milk. None of these idiosyncrasies affected the quality of my life. I was an excellent student with a B+ average, and I was quite the charmer with many girlfriends in my high school days. In fact, I was a terrific dresser, with a different cashmere sweater every day, along with the white buck shoes that were worn in the Elvis and Pat Boone fifties. I was always accepted in the best of high school clubs and I enjoyed the reputation of being a good football, baseball, and tennis player. At 16, I was free. My dad paid for a trip for me to go to New York and I remember taking the subway from Long Island to Manhattan alone, without any trouble. I was accepted to UCLA right out of high school, as I was in the top 13% of my graduating class. It was difficult for me to be 17, going from my very popular status in high school to a number at a large university. At this time, I fell in love with Janet, who lived in Beverly Hills with her parents. We had sex only once in my car and I felt so guilty. She was concerned that I would not respect her, back in 1957.

After going through an Appendectomy, which I never really needed, my life was changed forever. To this day, I still believe that I had a reaction to the anesthesia, but I will never be sure. I came out of that surgery screaming that my brain is burning, and that I wanted my mother desperately. I was having a major panic attack and I thought I was dying. Doctors and nurses were alarmed but they could not find anything that would cause such a reaction. That’s when it started. I have read Panic Disorder starts in the late teens and early twenties for many people following a traumatic event. I know that women primarily become victims of this disorder by a ratio of 2:1 over men.

When I was released from the hospital, I was clinging to my sister, mother, father, and everybody, because I could not tolerate the terror I felt when I was alone. My sister does not talk to me today, as the memories of our childhood robbed her of her freedom, since different members of my family took turns with baby-sitting duties. I was hopelessly dependent, hanging on to tits and skirts whenever I could. No one knew what was wrong with me and there was family discussion, I later discovered, about institutionalizing me as insane. It was my aunt, Gussie, who believed I should see a psychiatrist.

Those years were a living hell for me. I saw Dr. Solon Samuels at a halfway house called Gateways hospital in Los Angeles where I was taking medicine as an outpatient. Nothing worked except bad side effects, because this medicine was for depression and schizophrenia, of which I had neither. I was with all these psychotic people, and it did not work. Finally, a psychiatrist named Dr. Brownstein at UCLA diagnosed me with Agoraphobia. But remember, this was prior to medication for this disorder. I was accepted to the ZBT fraternity, BUT/ from where I had to drop out because of my anxiety problem. I also had to drop out of UCLA for the first two semesters, because I could not take the panic. I enrolled in correspondent courses from UC Berkeley, and did my college work at home where I was housebound during those first two years. I remember driving over Coldwater Canyon on the way from the University to the San Fernando Valley at high speed, to get to my mother before I died. I stayed home for weeks, refusing to go anywhere. Gail, Janet’s cousin, said to me, Bob, drive over Coldwater Canyon, (she also lived in Beverly Hills) and I will have sex with you as a reward. This enticing offer was not even enough to move me out of the house. Gail was a knock out and she was serious in trying to help me overcome my fear. There was no reward on earth that could have caused me to leave my home, because of my belief that I would die from the panic attack.

It took me ten years to graduate college. All the counselors were advising me to go to trade school and learn a low-pressure profession. But I wanted the self-esteem of graduating college. I took my uncle Harry, my sister Sharon, my aunt Bella, my dad’s friend Joe to UCLA, and anyone else I could find to go with me to school and sit in the back of room while I took my finals. Their presence was enough to keep my emotions calm enough so I could concentrate on the test and pass. I even paid my friend Richard to drive me to school. I remember crying when the dean of business told me that I would flunk out of accounting school and could not be a C.P.A. and that I would have to pick a different major in the school of business to graduate. I then changed my major from accounting to personnel management in the school of business administration. Ten years later, I received my Bachelor’s degree with a 2.0 C average; and what a thrill it was to graduate with this handicap!, I was too sick to go to the graduation, and wear the cap and gown.

With my good looks and charm, along with my degree, I was hired for every job I applied for: American Airlines, management training program; Atlantic Richfield, management training program; Revlon Cosmetics, management training program; fifth grade school teacher in Los Angeles, and the list goes on and on. I was fired from all these jobs within six months because I could not make it to work on time, or for consistently being late because of panic. Without this disease, I would have been today a top executive in a major USA corporation. Today, I am 54 years old and broke, with the exception of a few travelers checks my mother gave me, without a wife, a home, or a job.

I am sitting at my son’s computer in Basking Ridge, New Jersey trying to get well for the very first time in my life, by taking my medicine and not giving into the need to call a rescuer when I feel panic coming on. I have an interview on Monday with a local market to be a part-time cashier and a local newspaper to be a telemarketer. I just met a Rabbi today who told me to get out of the denial that my wife really wants me out of her life. I was rejected after years of her patience for not being a good provider due to my illness. I am staying with my first wife, Donna, and my son, Michael. My second wife, Lilia, did not know about my illness before we were married. I am guilty of this monumental nondisclosure. She only wanted me to have a job and be responsible for our family. The Rabbi told me to face the fact that my wife has grown weary of having a husband that could not function and make a living. It is a shame how people who suffer from Panic are rejected and disliked by family and friends. It hurts me so deeply that the criterion of my marriage was based on my ability to provide sick or not. To be fair, I did misrepresent myself to a lovely woman. She had every right to leave me as soon as she discovered the truth, but she chose to work with me. Lilia is mentally healthy and will not nurture me or enable my illness which I took for meanness on her part. It hurts deeply that I have been thrown out of my house, where my daughter, Natalie, lives in Mission Viejo. I pray that this book has a good ending.

Be careful of what you ask for, you might get it, is an old saying that has literally happened to me on, this November day in 1994.

We all, who have this affliction, know that the cost in human relationships is enormous. It has cost me two marriages, not to mention I hold the unofficial position in the Guinness Book of Records for getting fired from the most jobs, ranging from low paying jobs ones to high executive positions, because of Panic Disorder and Agoraphobia.

I am starting this portion of book from the lowest point I have ever hit in my life. My second wife of the past nine years, a Russian immigrant, told me again that she wants a divorce, because she cannot tolerate that I have gone into bankruptcy, had a court-ordered creditor judgments filed against me, and borrowed all the equity out of our Mission Viejo home in California to put it in foreclosure. Even though I am a talented Real Estate Broker, my dependency addiction to her and my mother ruined our marriage. My dependency was so severe and intense that I was ruthless in my attempts to keep the significant women in my life inprisoned. It is painful beyond words to describe the guilt that I feel for being physically abusive to Donna, my first wife, then Judy, my girlfriend between marriages, and now Lilia. I would literally hold on and force these women not to leave for fear that I would die. Their presence in my distorted thinking was like oxygen needed for life itself. Separation from a safe person equaled death in my mind when it was reeling with high anxiety. Agoraphobia truly burns out the people who are closest and most supportive of you.

After sending resumes to major homebuilders in Atlanta, Georgia and Charlotte, North Carolina, I was offered a sales position on a housing subdivision in Atlanta with a top builder. I told Lilia that in ten years from now we will be better off, by far, in the south east part of the USA, than if we stayed in California. The idea was that I would work for six months and Lilia and our eight-year-old daughter Natalie would join me. When I arrived in Atlanta, the job did not materialize. There were 85 empty lots with no sales trailer. The builder obviously put someone else in the position with a going subdivision sales program. As there was no job, this gave me an excuse to go back to California. I even borrowed $850 from my mother to have my Audi 5000 Turbo sent to Georgia. My wife told me not to come home, as she had enough of my phobias and me. The truth is that even if the best job in town were offered to me I was too anxiety ridden to hold the it anyway.

In desperation, I called Donna, and my sixteen-year-old son, to tell them I was in a Days Inn motel in Atlanta with no money and a wife who would get a restraining order to keep me out of my house in Mission Viejo, California. Compassionate Donna, with the encouragement of my son Michael took me into their home where I am writing this book.

I married Donna on October 19th 1969. We were married for 13 years and I divorced her for another woman. Being charming and seducing women were my perverted ways of being a man, because I was so dependent on Donna and my mother to be with me as my safe people at that time. Through life, until we go for the cure, safe people can be substituted until we are able to stand on our own two feet. It’s like swinging from one illusion of a safety net to another.

When I found that Judy, the other woman, would not play substitute mother for me, I begged Donna to take me back. She refused and left for New Jersey with Michael, then three-years old. Donna has a strong moral stand about adultery and I went over her boundary line. So, there I was, miserable, without a rescuer. Be careful what you ask for you might get it, is exactly what has happened. I am now back with Donna and Michael, a dream come true.

At this point in my book, I am a sick, rejected man who has lost his family, his business, his friends, his home, his good credit rating, and all his money. If it were not for Donna and Michael, I would be homeless.

My agenda is to get as well as I can, in order to stop the devastation in my life with relationships. I am taking medicine now and learning to be alone. When I feel anxiety and panic build up, I normally run to the telephone (my phone bills run $300 per month) to get someone else, mostly my mother to calm me down.

On this day in November of 1994, I felt victory, as I did not call anyone for help. I am alone in a country house in New Jersey waiting for my car to be sent from Georgia, and I did not call my mother. My next step is to get a menial job and see if I can work without making rescue calls. In California, I lived in a $350,000 home, and had my own business, called Sterling Properties. I worked out of this beautiful home, shaking with fear if my wife went to the market, and conning clients to come to my house because I avoided taking them out in my fancy car in case I panicked. I gave my clients a list of houses and told them to drive by the houses themselves until they saw one they liked. Then I would muster up the courage to show them the house, negotiate the deal and quickly return home to handle the escrow from my safe place called home. It was like the white knuckles from hell every time I did something.

What I have going for me is two children who love me dearly; Michael, from my first wife, and Natalie, from my second wife. I am grateful to God for these two children. It is my mission to get well so that I can be a good model of surviving for these kids of mine, to finally be who I can be, and to inspire others to get cured. I am writing this book from the pits of agony and despair. I am locked in a self-imposed jail by the tyranny of my own thinking and frozen in fear. This is not an I did it and so can you book. This is a sharing process of getting over Panic Disorder. This could be a magnificent contribution to humanity if I can pull it off, not to mention my personal rise in self-esteem, which is conquering fear and getting real freedom—the freedom I had when I was 16 years old.

Here it is November 12, 1994, and I started a part time job as a telephone telemarketer trying to sell advertising in the Bernardsville local newspaper. My pay is $7.50 per hour plus 5% of whatever I sell. This is such a menial task compared to my normal profession as a real estate broker, but what is important is that my anxiety level stays low while I am at this part time job. Therefore I must conclude that the mental health benefits far outweigh other factors such as status and prestige.

In about a week