THE HERMIT WOLF
TRUTH LOGS
THE HERMIT WOLF
TRUTH LOGS
I have always considered that a home should be a refuge. A place where we can close the door on the outside world, rest, recover, think, read, write, and enjoy the simple pleasure of being left in peace. However, after years of suffering, I suddenly came to the conclusion that my home had become a source of constant stress.
I have lived in this apartment for almost thirty years and I have experienced all types of disruptions. Flooding: Water apparently entered through a crack in the building's ceiling. It surged through electrical outlets, poured from the ceiling and through the air-conditioning ducts, eventually reaching a depth of six inches inside my apartment, with no sign of stopping.Another time, thanks to my upstairs neighbor’s water heater exploding, it rained inside my apartment to such a magnitude I had to turn off the circuit breakers and call 911.
There were more instances of flooding, one very stressful one when my bedroom became flooded because of water leaking from an upstairs toilet”, and this was during the pandemic. I have since constantly checked the floor. Is it flooding again? Is it OK?
Then noisy neighbors: I used to have a lovely neighbor in the apartment whose wall I share with my bedroom; a very old lady of Greek ascendence. When she passed, the apartment was sold to an individual who after making two bedrooms in a 948 square feet apartment, set his sister there. Sister and niece loved very loud noise, to the point that the opposite wall in the living room vibrated.
The neighbor upstairs, I have two apartments above my apartment, so one of them, poor thing, also passed away. Since then, I have not have peace, none. This happened in 2012. How many years? 14 years of constant harassment.
The last tenant, because they are always, to my sorrow, tenants, not owners, had a dog. The dog’s name was Bernie, and I called it Bernie Howler, or sometimes only Howler. I already did a substack post about Bernie. The animal started barking as soon as his owner left for work, between 7: 30 am and 8 am. And never stopped until late afternoon. I endured for 40 days and 40 nights. Was this a God sent test? Finally, after talking to the owner, a very nice young man, for many times, I had to complain to management. Maybe because of my complain or maybe because apparently the apartment owner never agreed to a dog living there, they, dog and owner, left.
That was not what I really wanted. I love dogs of all sizes and breeds…well, except chichuahuas, and maltese, but this one was a very nice poodle. Seeing them leave was not a happy moment, but as my son told me, ‘mom, enough is enough! There comes a time where compassion has to be for yourself!”
You may be asking yourself, “But, silly woman, why did you remain there?”
Yes, I know. A perfectly reasonable question. But by then, I had already remodeled my apartment, and the prospect of another move was a hassle I simply wasn't willing to undergo.
What happens now? Something called ‘anticipation’. I have been trained to expect noises, noises that wake me up at 2 or 3 in the early morning, noises that seem as if the roof was falling on my head. Noises that make me suspect someone upstairs fell down their stair, or they are fighting.
I am always wondering: When will it begin again? Will I be able to sleep tonight? Will I be able to concentrate on my writing? Will the peaceful afternoon I am enjoying suddenly be interrupted?
And perhaps most importantly: what is happening inside my body while I live with these uncertainties?
So then, I started researching about what all this constant stress could have done to my already sick and old organism, as I am already 78 years of age.
What I discovered was disturbing.
We generally think of stress as an emotional experience: anxiety, frustration, anger, or fear. But stress is also a physiological process involving multiple interacting systems throughout the body.
When we encounter a threatening or stressful situation, the sympathetic nervous system activates, increasing heart rate, blood pressure, and the availability of energy. The hypothalamic–pituitary–adrenal (HPA) axis coordinates a hormonal response involving cortisol, which influences glucose metabolism, immune activity, and numerous other physiological processes. These responses are essential for survival. Under normal circumstances, they help us confront a challenge and subsequently return toward physiological equilibrium.
But what happens when the challenge never seems to end?
Scientists use the term allostasis to describe the process through which the organism maintains stability by adjusting its physiological responses to changing demands. The problem arises when these adaptive mechanisms are activated repeatedly, remain active for prolonged periods, or fail to return efficiently to their normal regulatory patterns. The resulting cumulative physiological burden is known as allostatic load.
Over time, chronic stress may contribute to changes in cardiovascular regulation, metabolic function, inflammatory activity, and immune responses. Which I think is what has been happening to me.
This does not mean that every stressful experience causes permanent physiological damage. The consequences depend on numerous factors, including the intensity and duration of exposure, individual susceptibility, existing health conditions, and opportunities for recovery. Nevertheless, the research raises an important question: What happens when someone spends years, or even decades, living in an environment that repeatedly activates these stress-response mechanisms?
Noise is particularly interesting because its biological effects are not limited to whether we consciously find it irritating. Research has demonstrated that environmental noise, especially during sleep, can activate physiological stress responses. Repeated noise exposure has been associated with sleep disturbances, elevated blood pressure, cardiovascular disease, and alterations in stress-related physiological processes.
The World Health Organization recognizes environmental noise as a significant public-health concern.
But there is an additional dimension that deserves attention. Unlike someone working in a noisy environment who can eventually return to a quiet home, a person exposed to persistent residential noise may have no reliable place of recovery. The home itself becomes the source of the disturbance.
Perhaps the most unsettling aspect of my experience is that the disturbances do not have to be occurring for me to feel their effects. After years of unpredictable noise, I find myself anticipating the next interruption.
A sudden impact from upstairs may awaken me in the middle of the night. But even when everything is quiet, I cannot always assume that the silence will last.
This is not merely a matter of imagination. We were made this way, the human nervous system continuously evaluates environmental information, drawing on previous experiences to anticipate possible threats so repeated exposure to unpredictable and uncontrollable stressors can influence these anticipatory responses.
Consequently, the physiological effects of an adverse environment may extend beyond the periods when the actual disturbance is occurring. The organism may remain prepared to respond even during intervals of apparent tranquility.
This was the question that initially motivated my investigation. Could years of environmental stress contribute to a reduction in healthy lifespan?
Research has associated elevated allostatic load with increased risks of cardiovascular disease and premature mortality.
However, an important distinction must be made: An association between elevated allostatic load and mortality does not establish that a particular environmental disturbance directly shortened an individual's life.
Neither can we calculate how many years someone may have lost because of chronic noise, repeated flooding, or prolonged psychological stress. Nevertheless, the accumulated evidence suggests that chronic stress deserves attention not merely as an emotional burden but as a potential contributor to long-term physiological deterioration.
For those of us who have spent years adapting to difficult living conditions, this possibility deserves serious consideration.
And I keep wondering…
Nobody knows when the scythe-wielding specter of Death will come knocking. He certainly doesn't send you a text message on your iPhone announcing, “Expect me tomorrow at 6 p.m.!”
So the question that continues to haunt me is this:
Would the Grim Reaper have come knocking later if I hadn't spent so many years living under these conditions?
