Diamonds And Wine

I haven't been in a slump like this since -- well, never. We are now 0-for-7 or 0-for-8 or ... who knows, I've lost count ... in our search for a new home.

This latest round of rejections and disappointment, though, was a little different from previous ones. This one had some slightly familiar "twinges."

I know that I shouldn't take this personally. I know that we are doing all we can and our agent confirms that our actions are reasonable and sensible. It is the other lunatics out there who are screwing us.

I've read all the recent reports -- housing costs in the Baltimore/Washington area have gone up more than 65 percent in the last 5 years, people are leaving D.C. and heading north with all the money they are getting from selling their home.

But -- and I say this more often now than I have in the past -- stress is the killer.

Several years ago, I had what I call a heart episode -- one that landed me in the hospital with several wires and tubes connected to me. I had all the classic symptoms of a heart attack (at the age of 36) and missed work for about 3 months while doctors and I straightened it all out.

Stress, they said. Pain in the keister, I said.

However, I learned all the relaxation techniques, exercised more and ate better. I dare say I'm physically better than I was 10 years ago. Mentally, though....

The mind can do wonderful things, if you let it. I remember reading a study that the average human only uses roughly 10 percent of the potential brainpower available. What are we doing with the other 90 percent?

Needless to say, my brain has been working overtime lately with the home dilemma, work pressure and personality clashes. And let's just say I was about 15 seconds away from dialing 911 last week.

I remember what it was like several years ago and I felt like I was headed in that direction again -- tightness in the chest, dizziness, nausea -- but I was missing some of the symptoms I experienced in the past. I rationalized; I agonized (probably creating more stress) and I decided to go grocery shopping.

The grocery store is my relaxation place. Don't ask me why -- it just works.

I got phone calls from my wife and my best friend -- checking up on me, I found out later -- and the dagger in my chest subsided.

But the pain is still there.

Does this mean we stop looking for a new home? No. The only thing that is going to make me feel better is to succeed -- I hate losing and I hate giving up even worse. I don't do well with rejection -- never have -- but then again, I have never been rejected so many times in such a short time span.

And I found out I can apparently project my stress onto others without even trying. One of the women I work with said she was stressed all weekend for me because she wanted me to succeed so badly.

I always wanted a super power -- but I'd rather be bitten by a radioactive spider. Projecting stress isn't that effective when fighting a bank robber. The image is pretty funny, though.

I'll survive. I always do. I just have to keep reminding myself that it isn't the end of the world or my life. There are more important things I have to do before I'm done and I'm not giving up that easy.

But I'll keep my cell phone charged and with me at all times -- just in case.

Tick, tock. No matter what happens, the clock keeps moving forward. And the sooner I realize that I am not Father Time or Chronos, the better I will be. I can't control other people do, I can't control what other people say and I can't control what other people feel. But I will control what goes in this column. Count on it! "I'm weak and I've gone hazy yeah."

Touch 'em all with me, whether you agree with me or criticize me. I like the way you think! Tell me your opinion. Write to me or add a comment below and tell me what you think or if you want to join the ever-growing e-mail list to have my column delivered right to your inbox.