I forgot to mention the spiders and centipedes. When you are the only parent home, you must be the one to lead them out the door when your daughter is afraid. I've always thought it was silly to be afraid of bugs--we're so much bigger and probably scarier to them, but now, finally, I think I've come as far as I ever have in overcoming my fear of spiders and centipedes in my house. And it's all thanks to this past year of being a single-parent.
I've always talked to animals, even bugs, but bugs like arachnids and chilopods freak me out when they pop out in my bathroom or bedroom or kitchen or laundry room. When Joel is here I frantically ask him to come get it. If Grace is around I stay calm but I am still freaked out. I realized that by having Joel lead the bug outside, I was not dealing with it at all. Looking back, I think I was more afraid because I could be.
Now that it's just me (and Nate, if he's home) I still don't like to be startled by the spiders and centipedes, but I communicate with them more again (like when I was a kid). I ask them not to come into my bedroom, especially above our bed, and I ask that they just show themselves in a way that won't be so sudden. I even had a conversation with a centipede in my bathroom one night. I told him I knew it wasn't his fault that he had so many legs and moved so fast. I said, "So you walk fast, so what? Is that a reason for humans to freak out? Well I'm done freaking out. I see you. You're just a little guy roaming for food or something in my bathroom. Just please don't crawl on me or come in my room and we'll just call it a night, okay?"
I didn't take it outside. I felt sure that he would just go back to his hidey-hole and not startle me anymore. And he hasn't. It's been about five months now--no more midnight appearances by Mr. Centipede or his kin. Same for the spiders. I actually had two spider buddies this summer and fall; they hung out on their webs right near me when I sat on my porch swing to write. I watched them grow from tiny little black and red spiders to big, fat, round gals. At least I think they were gals. They got so plump; don't the female spiders usually get bigger like that? In any case, I considered them my writing pals. My fellow story weaver buds. I thanked them for not coming into my house, being so big and all. Plus, I still had a tinier spider friends that came out in the evenings to crawl on my living room ceiling when I wrote at nighttime or to greet me when I went to my kitchen sink for a drink of water.
Just another way single-parenting has reminded me about reconnecting with all living beings. I am thankful.
Showing posts with label facing fears. Show all posts
Showing posts with label facing fears. Show all posts
Monday, January 25, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Facing Silly Fears
Before Joel and I got married we agreed that he would be in charge of doing any "car stuff" and I would be in charge of grocery shopping. As I said, I was a single-parent back when Nathan was 3-5 years old. So even though his dad, Donnie and I had a similar arrangement, though not exactly a "deal" like I had with Joel, I did eventually have to take care of my own car, then and now.
I was about to write that I don't know why it's almost like a fear for me to have to get my oil changed or worse, to have to take it in for an unknown problem; I know it's because I don't do it unless I have to. I had to back when Donnie and I were separated and I have to now. Of course, I could've asked Donnie to help me out, but why? For as much as I didn't like to handle car maintenance and problems, I really didn't like to be dependent on anyone. And I do like a challenge. If my life is going along on an even keel and nothing is going "wrong" then I'm not challenging myself enough. I like to scare myself, even if it simply means taking care of my car. When I face my fears, they eventually become something else. Depending on what it is...for instance, quitting my nursing job to become a writer was a HUGE fear for many reasons, but now that I've done it, I see that we can live on way less money and I can practice my passion and live more joyfully. But learning to maintain my car or figure out what to do with my totaled car is a fear that has turned into a mundane monthly task. But a mundane monthly task that I greatly appreciate! Really.
Almost exactly one month after Joel first left, February 2009, I got into an accident and totaled my car. Actually, I didn't fully total it, because it was fixable but for more than it was worth. And I had just switched us from full coverage to the bare minimum. So for me it was basically totaled. Luckily my mom never sold the old family hand-me-down, a 1994 gas-guzzling Jeep with almost 200,000 miles on it. It leaks oil and transmission fluids, it tends to veer to the right--two hands on the wheel are essential, the windows or doors (not sure which) don't seal right so there's a cold breeze and a wind tunnel sound effect even with the heat on high (the only setting the heat works), the driver's side door only opens from the outside, the motor to roll the windows up and down is questionable, especially in the cold (I have to use my hands to "help" it up--every time I get in and out of the car), the locks don't work right, and there's a kill-switch on it so the headlights have to be on in order to start the engine. A scary car for me to inherit, but now I love it. It hasn't let me down yet. Well, it did make me scream once when the kids and I were shopping for school clothes back in August and the steering wheel started to smoke. But otherwise, no problems.
And I've gotten quite adept at popping the hood and checking the fluids regularly. Actually I often have to get Nate to pop the hood because the pull thingy really sticks. But I open the hood and do all the rest of it myself. And it makes me feel so happy and accomplished...Not that I wouldn't love to have a "normal" car again, preferrably a hybrid so that I'm not polluting our earth so much. But with all it's flaws it has endured. (I had the urge to follow Frank Sinatra's voice and say, "I love it so!") And it has allowed us to pay off some of our debt before going out and buying another car that would put us more into debt. But the main point was that the car accident, the mangled car, the jeep have all played a part in helping me to be confident about taking care of my car again. A silly thing, I know, but to me it means something and it's symbolic of what all single-parents have to do in life. So that when and if we ever get a partner that will share the duties of life again, we are that much more appreciative, right?
I was about to write that I don't know why it's almost like a fear for me to have to get my oil changed or worse, to have to take it in for an unknown problem; I know it's because I don't do it unless I have to. I had to back when Donnie and I were separated and I have to now. Of course, I could've asked Donnie to help me out, but why? For as much as I didn't like to handle car maintenance and problems, I really didn't like to be dependent on anyone. And I do like a challenge. If my life is going along on an even keel and nothing is going "wrong" then I'm not challenging myself enough. I like to scare myself, even if it simply means taking care of my car. When I face my fears, they eventually become something else. Depending on what it is...for instance, quitting my nursing job to become a writer was a HUGE fear for many reasons, but now that I've done it, I see that we can live on way less money and I can practice my passion and live more joyfully. But learning to maintain my car or figure out what to do with my totaled car is a fear that has turned into a mundane monthly task. But a mundane monthly task that I greatly appreciate! Really.
Almost exactly one month after Joel first left, February 2009, I got into an accident and totaled my car. Actually, I didn't fully total it, because it was fixable but for more than it was worth. And I had just switched us from full coverage to the bare minimum. So for me it was basically totaled. Luckily my mom never sold the old family hand-me-down, a 1994 gas-guzzling Jeep with almost 200,000 miles on it. It leaks oil and transmission fluids, it tends to veer to the right--two hands on the wheel are essential, the windows or doors (not sure which) don't seal right so there's a cold breeze and a wind tunnel sound effect even with the heat on high (the only setting the heat works), the driver's side door only opens from the outside, the motor to roll the windows up and down is questionable, especially in the cold (I have to use my hands to "help" it up--every time I get in and out of the car), the locks don't work right, and there's a kill-switch on it so the headlights have to be on in order to start the engine. A scary car for me to inherit, but now I love it. It hasn't let me down yet. Well, it did make me scream once when the kids and I were shopping for school clothes back in August and the steering wheel started to smoke. But otherwise, no problems.
And I've gotten quite adept at popping the hood and checking the fluids regularly. Actually I often have to get Nate to pop the hood because the pull thingy really sticks. But I open the hood and do all the rest of it myself. And it makes me feel so happy and accomplished...Not that I wouldn't love to have a "normal" car again, preferrably a hybrid so that I'm not polluting our earth so much. But with all it's flaws it has endured. (I had the urge to follow Frank Sinatra's voice and say, "I love it so!") And it has allowed us to pay off some of our debt before going out and buying another car that would put us more into debt. But the main point was that the car accident, the mangled car, the jeep have all played a part in helping me to be confident about taking care of my car again. A silly thing, I know, but to me it means something and it's symbolic of what all single-parents have to do in life. So that when and if we ever get a partner that will share the duties of life again, we are that much more appreciative, right?
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