Shattered Illusions: Reflections on my Disastrous Mid-Life Crisis

By Linda L. Gunter

The book uses journal entries interspersed with analysis describing how the mind uses habits and patterns as well as behavioral psychology to explain her journey of self-discovery. The author based many life-changing decisions on her intuition, she leaves a government job and moves from Washington, DC to Seagrove, NC. She decides to convert her restored mill home into a B&B and open an herb store at the same time. Isolated and impoverished, Gunter slowly regains self-confidence by focusing on being of service to others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Oct 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098387488

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Copyright © 2021 by Linda L. Gunter

Shattered Illusions

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or invented, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, or broadcast.

Print ISBN: 978-1-09838-747-1

eBook ISBN: 978-1-09838-748-8

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Preface

Introduction

Mannaz the rune of Self– signaling growth and rectification

Chapter 1

Teiwaz rune of the Spirit—Volunteering after Hurricane Katrina

Chapter 2

Rune of Partnership GEBO (Union with Higher self)

Chapter 3

KANO reversed—Expect a Darkening of Some Aspect of Life

Chapter 4

Spirit Warrior Reversed Clean the Clutter

Chapter 5

Othila Rune of Separation Reversed, Radical Severance 2009–2010

Chapter 6

Hagiz Rune of Disruption 2011

Chapter 7

Thuriz Gateway Rune—the bottom falls out 2012–14

Chapter 8

Ehwaz Movement - Some Safety 2015–2016

Chapter 9

Othila Rune of Separation/Inheritance

Chapter 10

Kano Rune of Opening 2020–2021

Appendix

Perelandra Flower Essences

Selected Bibliography

Preface

My search and need for change began when I turned 50, and decided to leave behind a life based on the illusion of success to seek my purpose. This process started with a decision to volunteer long term in a disaster relief center in St. Bernard Parish, Louisiana, after Hurricane Katrina. I was obsessed with helping them recover; all my attention and spare time were focused on this one small spot of the disaster.

By shifting focus from keeping myself occupied to being of service to others, I believed I’d found a purpose. After I took that first step, listened to my intuition and acted on it, I opened up, stepped out of my bubble, then changes occurred that shifted my expectations of how my life could matter. This story describes the wobbly start of this new life. I have volunteered throughout my life, in church and civic groups, but I had more asked of me and received so much in return, at the Made with Love Café and Grill in Louisiana. Changes that affected me on the physical, emotional, and spiritual levels.

Within 18 months, I quit my job as a government bureaucrat and moved to North Carolina to start two small businesses. By 2008 the economy was in meltdown and I ended up spending most of my retirement funds to maintain the illusion of progress. Finally, in 2011, I had an aha moment; when I realized my thinking was the source of my problems, I was stuck, broke, and anxious. Even then, it took several more years before I realized I caused my own suffering and stopped. This book describes my journey, the bad decisions, the depression that followed, and the path to eventual recovery. The lesson learned is to shift focus from the small broken pieces (my character defects, failures and faulty beliefs) to a wider view of the entire mosaic of my life. In seeing the big picture, aiming the lens at the positive events, trying to be useful and productive, expressing gratitude for my many blessings, I was able to finally start living again.

When I analyze the situation (and I do this a lot as I’m an overthinker), we’re living in a time of too much information chasing no time to reflect. Everywhere I see fear, panic, and anxiety—from new technology, from the loss of jobs, from news about events both near and far that are outside of my control. I am both more connected and less supported than at any time in my life. I’ve lost both parents in the last few years, and as a consequence of my choices, no longer have a relationship with immediate family. My age and skill set aren’t in demand in the job market. I’m not alone, and in writing this book I’m hoping to spare others some of my pain. I have learned the mind is unreliable, but the body never lies. If you are seeking purpose (as I am), we need to use our heart and then get quiet and listen for Spirit to speak.

I am 64 now, a tail-end Boomer, never married. In my mind I’m still attractive—thin, smart, outgoing; my big blue eyes are my best feature. However, I have decided to be honest at all costs, so the truth is I’ve let myself go. I’m overweight, under-exercised, and tall so I believe some of the extra pounds aren’t noticeable. A resilient Midwesterner, well-travelled (55 countries to date), I lived in Japan twice in my 20s, and worked for five years in Brussels, Belgium, in the 1990s.

I grew up in Wisconsin, graduated from a small liberal arts college, then worked full time until February 2007. In looking back over my life, my jobs were stepping stones always increasing responsibility and salary, in energy policy/communications. By 2006, I felt successful by most standards, working for the federal government in Washington, DC. I held a mid-level managerial position responsible for a tiny program and a staff of five. I had a circle of friends and acquaintances, we ate out regularly (my hips are proof), attended book club, shopped, enjoyed the theatre and the movies. I appeared to be happy, except for that nagging voice that wouldn’t give me any peace until I found a husband, had a family and settled down (yes, that voice’s you, Mom). Then I volunteered in a relief kitchen in St. Bernard Parish, Louisiana, and discovered the joy of living raw and fresh, making life up each day with the rising sun, feeling appreciated knowing I made a difference.

And so, I quit my nice, secure, stressful, bureaucratic job and moved to North Carolina to open an herb shop and turn my home into a B&B. When I left DC, one of my colleagues gave me a refrigerator magnet, the Buddhist saying Leap and the Net will Appear. I laughed when I received it, because my intention was to follow my purpose and help others. I told myself, the ability to be flexible and persevere would allow me to find a solution to any problems that cropped up. I’m smart, resourceful, and besides, I had the proceeds from the sale of my townhouse and a sizeable retirement fund. I wasn’t going to let my total lack of experience in retail sales, nor county bureaucrats (who had to issue the B&B license) stop me from making a living! I also discounted the fact that the economy was in free fall and people were losing their jobs and homes all over the country. The sheer naiveté and arrogance of my beliefs amazes me now.

Its 2021, I’ve changed in ways intended and hoped for, and in completely unexpected ways. I made a life-changing leap, believing that miracles would occur. I wanted a more meaningful life, and literally took a leap of faith. I wanted to act on my purpose—without knowing what it is. While I’m not a complete failure, there is a net, though now I know it does not look anything like I assumed. For a very long time, everything I tried failed. I was raised in a family of professionals (Mom was a nurse, Dad an engineer). I believed I could always find a creative solution, try something new, meditate and some other option would present itself. I’ve read many self-help books, so I’d convinced myself you have to believe, no negative thinking. Of course, I’m well educated, white, and middle class—success is a given with enough hard work and perseverance. It worked that way in the past, right?

Now surrender has become my mantra. Not giving up per se, but that state of openness and expansion that the Buddhists talk about. While I have been meditating sporadically for 20 years, and tried to practice one system religiously for five of those years, I have concluded that is not the solution to my problems. Meditation helped me cope with the fear of the unknown and the fear of losing control, and it helps to be part of a community. But a retreat from life as we know it, away from all the ugliness, violence and greed that currently prevails in our society, is not a solution for me. I don’t want to make decisions based upon fear. Several years ago, I began working in disaster response. While I’m not able to forecast my future, if it’s anything like what I have witnessed, it will be based not on how much money I earn, or the kind of toys I can afford (cars, phones, etc.), it is based upon doing what I love in service to others, living outdoors as much as possible, and making sure the process used to accomplish something is done with care and concern for everyone involved—including the environment. It is not just about my needs or happiness; it is important to tell myself the truth from the beginning, so my motives are clear. I found this quote by British novelist Catherine Aird on a greeting card, and made it a personal motto: if you can’t be a good example, then you’ll just have to be a horrible warning.

When I began this journey, I hoped to be a healer, someone working in service to society, but as you’ll read my experience has been more of a horrible warning. My path was complicated and I’ve used my journal to remember key events. My choices created this personal disaster, losing economic security to end up living like a hermit in poverty, depressed and anxious. However, it was in exploring the thought processes of survivors after a natural disaster that I found new hope and my path forward. The road to recovery took forever for me, but I made it. My spiritual beliefs evolved over the past decade, but however you chose to recognize him, Spirit/God, or a benevolent energy, something is available to us when we need love and support.

If seeing is believing and believing is seeing, then those of us who believe in what we cannot see must rejoice in what we do see.

Introduction

Mannaz the rune of Self¹–

signaling growth and rectification

Everyone experiences change, I’m not sure if mine should be called a mid-life crisis or just boredom. I chose to leave my job. In 2006, I was stressed out, and I knew I needed a different life, I just didn’t know where or how it would happen.

In 2007, I threw in the towel on my career and left Washington, DC. I’m a Yankee, living with too many cats and a stray dog or two. I’m a lifelong fan of the Packers and NCAA basketball. Currently, I attend a traditional Methodist church, although I’ve called myself a UU and a Buddhist. When I moved to North Carolina, I wanted to get to know my neighbors and be part of a community. However, my beliefs are more in line with the mystics and meditating. I live outdoors as much as possible now, linked to nature and its rhythms, not locked in the climate-controlled world of home/car/office. I love to cook and try new cuisines and drink wine. I am not athletic, and need to exercise more. My initial intent when I moved was to be healthier and less stressed, enjoy having friends and family around a large dinner table, in other words to slow down and appreciate life.

In the beginning, I thought this goal was more than changing where I work, eat, sleep, and how I entertain myself. This book is meant as a warning, hopefully, you’ll use it to avoid mistakes, as you read how my beliefs and previous experiences led to bad decisions. I felt something missing from my life, my soul wanted to grow. I had no idea where this vague notion would lead, I just knew when I died, I hoped my life would mean something to others. As I had never married, had no children, how could I contribute to the world? I drew up a will, and it shocked me to consider the pile of stuff that I had accumulated and realize there was no one who would want it. Lots of travel souvenirs and good stories, but nobody else cares, so then what? How could I create a life that would have lasting meaning?

The actual change in location affected me. While I no longer commute to work, it takes me 20 minutes to get anywhere that has a store, and there is usually no traffic, so no more road rage. I quit a job I was competent at; whereas in retail sales (herb shop and B&B) I have no marketing talent and little skill. Frustration and loneliness are daily reminders of my character defects. As an eldest child, I believed I had to do it myself and wouldn’t ask for help. Stress led to emotional eating and the nightly glass of wine grew to two or three. The weight gain from lack of exercise and eating as I coped with hormonal changes was significant.

Working for myself did not mean less stress. I’ve had issues with contractors and the county inspectors while trying to get my house licensed as a bed and breakfast. However, I learned the process is just as important as the outcome. Treating people with respect, developing patience (it doesn’t always have to happen my way or in my timing) has helped change my attitude. Leaving a regular nine-to-five job, with a six-figure income to live off of my savings, while starting two businesses in a bad economy forced me to develop new skills for coping with fear. I was lonely and bored in my previous life. Now I have a few friends that I cherish; and while I have not found my soul mate, I am in a better place emotionally.

When I leaped, I knew my conventional life was over. I hated my staff, as a middle manager, I was forced to solve problems that were beyond my ability or authority. I tried dating and struck out. I had a number of female friends and stayed safely within my social circle. We’d have dinner, then see a movie or, I’d host a book club, to keep busy. I traveled frequently for my job and always felt tired and stressed, and this gave me a good excuse when home to watch TV, read books, and just sit and rest with one of my three cats on my lap. I attended personal growth seminars and read books (Julia Cameron, Wayne Dyer, and Marianne Williamson are favorites). I’ve had my palm read, my astrological chart done, tarot cards interpreted; over time I started to trust my intuition and act on its guidance.

You’ll see the phrase Let Go and Let God quite a few times throughout this book. My initials are LG, and I used them for the name of my store, LGs Herbal Cottage. The store name really stood for Let Go and Let God, because my higher self knew I would need to be reminded a lot! In the beginning, I would have said Letting Go was the easy part. I quit my job, and planned to live on the proceeds from the sale of my townhouse and my retirement money. I chose not to think about a plan for after the money was gone. By 2009 I was forced to admit that the ability to trust required for the Letting God part is the hardest part. I struggled with the need to be in control, doing and doing and failed quite spectacularly. Trying to stay busy was a distraction from my issues, but ultimately isn’t helpful. By 2010, I began to understand the Letting Go part, because all my doing, planning, strategizing failed—miserably. However, even though I read the books, my friends warned me, and I knew at some level, I had to experience it. Living the phrase I will to will thy will is a challenge for the spiritual warrior, but it was worth the struggle to confront my fears and character defects, whatever the path is that my soul has chosen to take me. LGLG

Made with Love Café and Grill St Bernard Parish 2006

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1 Viking Runes were used as chapter titles to highlight energetic shifts

Chapter 1

Teiwaz rune of the Spirit—

Volunteering after Hurricane Katrina

In September 2005, I found myself yelling at the government officials on TV responsible for disaster response after Hurricane Katrina in Louisiana. When I watched rescuers placing sick, elderly people on the airport marble floor, like so many others disgusted by the ineptitude of the recovery effort, I mobilized myself.

Because I work for the federal government, I understand how bureaucracy is supposed to work. When I looked for volunteer opportunities, first I considered the Red Cross. They were sending volunteers to Florida for a month of training and then possible deployment to Louisiana; maybe where you wanted to go, doing what you might be qualified to do, or then again, maybe not. No thank you, not interested.

There are lots of volunteer positions after a disaster. I looked for church groups already helping in Louisiana. FEMA had opportunities, as a federal employee I was eligible to apply; however, these jobs required lots of training and a long-term commitment (a minimum of three months) and no guarantee I would end up doing something I chose, in the location I wanted to be in.

My working life felt hectic, frequent business trips, maintaining the townhouse and car, taking care of my cats, tending a garden, occasional church services and out with friends to the movies or dinner. Busy but not productive, ultimately, in order to nurture my soul none of these activities were essential, when I needed to feel useful. My work travel schedule was unpredictable, preventing me from making a commitment to regular volunteer work, though I thought about it a lot.

The Blank Rune—the End of the Beginning

Around Thanksgiving 2005, I started surfing the internet looking for volunteer opportunities--I found an entire section of Craigslist devoted to Katrina. I searched for organizations looking for volunteers, and up popped a request from a group with no name. They had started a relief kitchen in Bay St. Louis, MS, immediately after the storm and had been invited to set up a similar operation in St. Bernard Parish, a suburb of New Orleans. Their website said they were looking for volunteers, Come for a day, come for a month, we need whatever skill you have to offer. They offered communal tents to sleep in, or you could bring your own. They would pick you up from the bus station or airport. I e-mailed them, and they replied, When can you come? They started operation on December 15th. I arrived on the 21st.

The day of departure was the first anniversary of the tsunami in the South Pacific, and the BBC was playing a selection of short stories written about that disaster. I was in bed listening to a story, already in tears, and it wasn’t even daylight yet. Oh, boy, I thought, not a good beginning. One story, set in Thailand, was about an English woman staying at a Thai resort after the tsunami, who returns to the beach every day and sits watching the tide, and a Thai hotel worker, who watches her from the jungle. Towards the end of her stay, the boy creeps out to sit with her. He speaks only rudimentary English and she speaks no Thai, yet they manage to communicate an understanding of their shared loss and comfort each other. They both lost family in the tsunami and are trying to move on with their lives and come to terms with the tragedy. The woman lost her son, the boy his family, but they found each other. I learned sometimes out of tragedy we are blessed in unexpected and unconventional ways.

I looked out of the plane window as we approached New Orleans, but couldn’t see the devastation. It had been four months, and the obvious damage was not visible from above. There were a lot of blue roof tarps, so it appeared some recovery was underway. The extent of the damage didn’t really register until I was on the ground driving through the city. I had been warned by a colleague whose church group had recently worked in the area, What you see on TV cannot be believed…it has to be experienced. She said initially their group was taking photos of everything. This isn’t what we saw on TV. We had no idea it was this bad! We need to show everybody back home how truly awful it is! But then they stopped taking photos after a few days, because they recognized that their photos looked just like what we see on TV. The problem is that we see only a small slice of the picture on TV, in reality, everywhere you look is like the photos. Really it has to be experienced in person—the total devastation was overwhelming. Hurricane Katrina covered an area 500 miles wide when she came ashore, and the total area affected was much larger.

This pool floated across the street in St. Bernard Parish

I arrived at the airport in New Orleans with approximately 100 lbs. of luggage. I sweet-talked the baggage handler at National airport into allowing me to avoid paying for the extra weight (thank you, Delta) because the clothes, food, Xmas toys, and everything else (batteries, books, diaper wipes) was a donation. I didn’t know it when I packed, but every single item found a grateful recipient. I decided my luggage was evidence of the importance of trusting my intuition.

Upon arrival, my first impression was, It has been four months! Why hasn’t more been done to fix this place? Wow! The barge that busted through the industrial canal was still sitting where it landed. The streets had been cleared of debris, except the roads were pocked with huge holes and the traffic lights didn’t work. There were some neighborhoods where the force of the water carried a house and its concrete foundation into the street. Houses sat where they were pushed by the water—on top of cars, on top of trees, on top of other houses. There was a curfew after midnight, and the police occasionally checked IDs. The ban on people returning to their homes ended in early December, but as we all remember folks were evacuated to places all over the country.

It took several rides through the neighborhoods bordering our relief kitchen before I noticed the big Xs on the front of the houses left by the rescue crews (search dates, number of dead found, survivors, and pets found). There are October dates on some houses, these Xs, serve as a chilling reminder of the number of days that went by before some of these houses were searched.

Residents began to return for day trips into the Parish, to sort through what was left of their belongings and return to their hotel or temporary shelter at night. They spray paint their new cell phone number on their houses in order to connect with friends and family and let people know they are ok.

(first stage in gutting a flooded house)

As a volunteer, I am a bit of a control freak (duh), and to be honest I had some anxiety prior to my arrival about sleeping in a communal tent. What if I talked in my sleep? What if others did? From the website photos, the camp looked like it was run by a bunch of hippies (albeit in their 20s, not my generation!). It never occurred to me that the place wouldn’t be safe.

Our kitchen sat in the middle of the casino parking lot. The military is in control of the area, the fire and police forces are decimated. Any disaster area, let alone a place that was as live-and-let-live as New Orleans, is a dangerous place. There were thieves living in the camp. There were drugs and drunken fights. The weather was terrible, everyone lived a very raw, exposed existence. It was cold and damp, not the customary weather for Louisiana in December. We experienced really bad wind storms that blew down the tents. However, I have a personal guardian angel, and even though I was sleeping in a tent with approximately 30 strangers (it had the moon and stars on the ceiling), I never had a problem. I slept through fights where the police and an ambulance responded (peace officer threw the miscreant into the port-a-potties) and didn’t hear a thing.

Our dining tent—a giant geodesic dome

I was prepared for disaster-related health issues. I had all the shots the government nurse recommended: cholera, typhoid, tetanus, etc. In the middle of this mold-infested, swamp water and oil-contaminated parking lot where we cooked with gas in tents, I never had a health problem from the food or water. I overdid the volunteering, behaved like I was 25 again, and suffered sore muscles, but that was my own fault.

We voted on the name for our camp, and The Made with Love Café and Grill won. From the first day I arrived, it was a warm, comfortable, loving place, where we hugged everybody. It was normal for a total stranger to walk up to you and say, I am so overwhelmed; I just told a woman looking for diapers for her handicapped 12-year-old son that we don’t have any adult diapers and burst into tears. I made hugging residents a general practice, and hugging other volunteers required. I may not have been the chief hugger, but as one of the older volunteers, I made it my job to hug the older residents, the Fire Chief, the military officers. I shouted We love you at the truckdriver that arrives to clean out the port-a-potties. It seemed to be the only way to get through the emotional upheaval of the experience…find another person and hang on. It wasn’t until later I discovered how much it meant to the residents and the first responders that we were hugging everybody, without discrimination.

When you are volunteering in a disaster zone, there is a sense of immediacy and satisfaction that comes from your ability to make things better even in small ways. I recognized that by my very middle class, sheltered existence, I was different from the people who survived the hurricane. However, when I returned home, I didn’t feel like I was really living. I ate, slept, talked to friends and family, and worked. I played with my cats, my nice sheltered life was safe, but I knew this was not really living.

I worried about whether I knew enough or would do the right thing to help, and then it dawned on me—I am an instrument of God’s will. By showing up and doing his will, I am doing my part. Upon reflection it appeared that all of my volunteer activities, were divinely guided. The truth is I had the time of my life. The weather was really cold, it rained, and we were exposed to the elements. It was sad and overwhelming; however, I liked the other volunteers, and the residents were appreciative of our efforts. I felt purpose, people needed me, my actions made a difference. Being in Louisiana allowed me to avoid facing the deadness in my real life.

I was unprepared for the emotional toll of volunteering. I’m still processing everything I saw, heard, felt. The folks of St. Bernard Parish are big hearted, self-sufficient, generous souls, who like to party. They are generally optimistic, willing to pick themselves up and start over again. They had been through a lot. Most had evacuated and now four months later, this was their first visit back to what was left of their homes and