All I remember is that my last post was about something where I was trying to be funny and light-hearted despite the world-turning that’s been going on since the beginning of the year.
I know this because I remember writing it and thinking “liar Miss S., liar.”
I was trying to put up a bit of a front, in the midst of not knowing what to write, and how the hell to write it.
And the reason I don’t know what I last posted, isn’t just because there’s been so much time between then and now, but also because I write almost all of my posts in emails and word docs before actually posting. I’m actually not on blogger as I write this. I have this fear that the day I do write a post from the ‘New Post’ page that it will be some meaningful, monumental essay that will delete when the computer I’m on randomly crashes.
Random things. I both love them and hate them.
Random is the case in point as I think of how this all started.
I had holidays planned for Feb, and before resuming them I had such wonderful visions of what they would entail. Coffee, shopping, catch-ups with friends, and just general all-round happiness.
The first shock was in finding out about the deaths of the two guys I went to high school with. As much as it rocked my world, within days of writing the post about it and learning to come to terms with it, I was feeling better, and vowing to make my life and my existence an important one in light of how quickly things can change.
THEN.
We were all rocked when quite suddenly a very close member of Hubbie’s family discovered something horrible concerning his health. And my visions of holiday bliss, were quickly changed into accompanying Hubbie to the hospital on more than half the days I was away from work. In trying to remain discreet, let’s just say this is the fight of his life.
I hope I don’t come across as selfish or inconsiderate as I write this. I feel deeply, deeply sorry for the wellbeing of this member, and wish them full health as they struggle to regain balance and return to some sense of normalcy in their life. It will be a long battle, but we all remain positive that he will come out in the end a positive story, an inspiration to others.
It’s just that, there was a moment of… well it’s hard to say. I was annoyed. Not at him, not at the situation, but, in life.
I consider myself a highly organised, highly structured person. I know where all my shoes sit, exactly where all the plates and glasses go in the kitchen drawers, and if I see a book adjusted slightly on the bookshelf, I’ll ask Hubbie “did you read my Shakespeare book?”
I don’t try to be overly obsessive about these things, I’m just naturally an ordered person, and I like it when everything has its place, because I have a lot of stuff. I get it from my Dad, I’m sure. He did the whole army thing, so he knows all about discipline and order.
I was feeling highly frustrated. Not only were my holidays not how they were meant to be, all with getting up early, spending all day in the hospital and then returning home late at night, but there were other pressing matters getting to me. I wanted to finish my book, and had given myself ‘til the end of my holidays to do it. I said to myself, “I know this is bad, but I just have to keep going. Life will throw things at me. But I need to keep writing.”
And there were MORE pressing issues at hand, hopefully some of which I’ll be able to post about in months to come. I was being supportive to Hubbie, but I just felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and disappointment in thinking of all the things this year was meant to be, and suddenly realising that EVERYTHING had changed. It was extremely upsetting.
I know, I’m a bitch. The problem with being as self-aware as I am is that I step out of my body all the time and preview the things I’m doing in my life. And in this instance, I was stepping back and saying “you selfish, selfish person.”
And the problem was, not even the awareness of feeling the way I was helped me to get over it. It just made me more desperate, sad, annoyed and frustrated. The frustrated-ness was feeding the selfishness, and the selfishness was feeding the frustrated-ness. It was an ongoing cycle that I couldn’t seem to break.
Today, months later, the situation hasn’t changed much. Only time, facts, learning to cope with it and continuing to live life are the things that have helped make the situation… better? I wouldn’t say better, but we have the upmost positive attitude towards this life changing event, and truly believe things will get better and eventually get back to normal.
What do you do? You have to eventually go back to living life. Because life doesn’t wait for you.
I have learnt to cope with it. I think I needed a bit of time to just stew, whinge that “things weren’t meant to be like this” and go into a depression, in my path to accepting that this was now our reality. I’m totally used to it now, am aware that in life things aren’t always going to be perfect, and I’m just learning to move on and work around this thing without compromising the things I’ve always wanted to do.
I hope I don’t sound too horrible a person. I’m coupled with an infinite amount of empathy, but with it comes an unexpected dose of selfishness. It’s just me. I try to be better, but some leopard spots just don’t change.
As I got to terms with all that was going on, I kept going on with my life. As planned, I finished my book on the last day of my holidays, YAY! It was very exciting for me, and if I do say so myself, I had a couple of tears trickling down my cheeks from happiness. Writing and the entire creation process is an extremely emotional one. You put so much of yourself, your heart, soul and passions into it, that at the end you end up feeling completely overwhelmed by it all.
I’m currently in the process of doing my second draft, and I have two chapters left to go over. Then I will go and research those little bits and pieces that I have to add to the book, go over it a third time (more thoroughly than the second time but hopefully a bit faster!) and then I’ll consider myself kind of done :)
Towards the end of my holidays in Feb I did end up doing a bit of what I’d been craving for at the beginning: coffee, shopping and catch-ups. In fact, I had the best day out with my sister. I just love her so much. I’m not being biased either. She is, THE BOMB.
Later on as well, Red and I ended up going to the cemetery where our friends were buried. We found Wavy first, then after a bit more searching up and down the rows, we came across Seven. Because the burials were relatively fresh, the headstones hadn’t yet been put up, and standing where we were in front of Seven’s site, we could look in front of us about a row or two up, to see Wavy’s. They’d been friends, been in the same classes, the same school, and had died within months of each other. And were now buried within metres of each other too.
Red and I had a few moments just standing there in front of them. Just thinking. I said a quiet goodbye.
On top of that, there were two sudden deaths in amongst all of this, (well maybe one was not so sudden) on Hubbie’s side of the family. It’s just been one thing after another.
Despite the general gloom of this post, I feel things have been much better in the last few months than how I’ve expressed them to be here. Yes, all these things did happen, and yes, some were really bad, and some were really good. (We bought a new car too!)
It’s just the way you see things I guess. Despite how shit I felt earlier in the year, I’m a glass half-full type of gal. I look back at all that and go “well, you learn. Things change.”
And within weeks of all of it first going down, I turned and said to Hubbie “you know what? We’re going to be the ones to bring the sunshine back into their life. We’re going to bring to them the good news that’s been a long time coming. That’s our role in all of this.”
And I truly believe it is.
Showing posts with label OCD. Show all posts
Showing posts with label OCD. Show all posts
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
Imitation is the sincerest form of Insult
I need to get this out so that I can try to move on. In true OCD form I've been completely obsessing over it, and I can't take it anymore.
Let's play the hypothetical game again, with not so hypothetical people, and a not at all hypothetical situation.
Let's say, I have some really nice kitchen items. To make this game easier, I'll say I have a beautiful fruit bowl, with matching salt and pepper shakers that sit beside it. It took me ages to find something this beautiful, unique and original in the modern style Hubbie and I were going for in the kitchen (remember, hypothetical!) So when we got it and put it in there a couple of months ago, we were like "Ahhhh." Looks good.
Now, about a month ago we had Mouth over with another couple. During the course of the visit, after she had been to my kitchen, she commented to me "oh, I like your fruit bowl, and the salt and pepper shakers. Really nice. Where did you get it?"
I was probably slightly thrown by the fact that she never really notices anything or anyone but herself, and it seemed she was giving me a genuine compliment for my kitchen things. I said quite casually "oh, from blah and blah."
I didn't think much of it. I later heard from Hubbie that the other couple who were over, well the woman expressed how much she really liked my kitchen things, and added "they're from blah and blah, yeah?"
When Hubbie told me this I was like "no! She can't get the same things as us!" But the knowledge that the shopping centre we got it from wasn't exactly local, kept me secure in the fact that she wouldn't go there by herself and get them. She could just safely admire them from a dsitance whenever she was at our house.
So I forgot about it.
Just recently, we found ourselves at this woman's house. Mouth was there also, and some other people. A couple of hours into it, Hubbie whispers to me "have you been to the kitchen?"
He has a weird look on his face. "What?" I ask, confused.
"She bought the things." He's smiling but I can see his expression is really wary, judging me and how I'm going to react. My mouth drops open as I realise what he's talking about. I'm gaping.
"Don't overreact. Don't make a scene."
I get up immediately and march to the kitchen. My heart drops when I get there, when I see MY fruit browl and matching salt and pepper shakers.
I am in absolute shock. She bloody went there. She went to the shopping centre, to the exact same shop and bought the same bloody things as me. And now her kitchen looks like mine.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
I am completely deflated. Dismayed, upset, devastated, shocked. Hubbie reads my face as I come and sit back down. "Don't jump, you don't know the full story. Don't be upset, ok?" I'm wondering at his words, wondering what the hell extra there is to know that would make this situation better for me, but I try to push it out of my mind, not wanting to appear obvious.
Not too long after that, I'm talking to Mouth. And somehow, in conversation, she says "so last weekend I went to blah shopping centre with woman, to get those things at blah shop, you know your kitchen things?"
All the pieces are falling into place. But it's actually getting worse for me.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, we went and bought them."
The word we I'm having an especially hard time with. It's sticking out like a sore thumb in a sentence of fingers.
"You went and bought the exact same things?" My tone is dead, expressionless. I'm numb with shock.
"Yeah." Her response is almost questioning. As if she's trying to work out what my take is on all of it.
She goes on and on as my heart sinks deeper.
"They have good priced forks there, you know," she waffles on. (hypothetical forks!)
"Yeah," I say flatly. "That's why I like it there. I like to get good, different things that arent the same as everyone else."
There's a distinct pause. I can hear her thinking. Then, because she's a fucking tool, she continues unaffected.
Phew. I need to calm down.
Perhaps I need to give you a little back story, so you can understand my strong aversion to copying.
Growing up, I had a friend, let's simply call her copy-cat. Enough said, right? In primary school she would read off my work, and when I'd catch her I'd yell out "stop copying!" She would say back angrily "I'm not copying!" And yet she would still do it, peering over my arm which I tried to protectively cover my work with.
All my friends knew. When she was near them she would try to copy their work too. But because my regular seat was next to her, I got the brunt of it.
Copy-cat and I went to the same high school. Here, I didn't have as many classes with her, but the rest of my friends there soon found out how she was, and again she was accused of copying. The annyoing thing with her was that she would copy you, and then make her work better. That was the aggravating thing. That and obviously denying that she was even plagiarising our work.
It was easier for me in high school, knowing my friends there could see what I could see. But then as I thought I lost her annoying habit, I gained the same habit in someone else. My cousins Legs and Hair.
Now I absolutely love them to pieces, I really do. But there was a time when I was growing up, and them being younger than me and looking up to me of course, that they would imitate me. They liked the things I liked. They dressed like me. And on and on. At one stage one of them confided to me that their own grandmother said to them "You should be more like Miss S." Although I was only 14 at the time, I lost it when I heard this. "Screw her! Don't be like me, or anybody else, be your own person!"
And they did, and I'm so proud of my adopted sisters for what they have grown into.
But what I'm trying to show here is that I had a lot of copying of me over the years, copying that scarred me, and that has made me want to be completely original, different and unlike anybody else. The more people copied me, the more I shied away and tried to be even more original and unique.
So that, on top of the fact that I have to mentally imagine kicking Mouth like a football far off into the distance just to get her annoyingness out of my head, has got me so unbelievably pissed off that you can't imagine.
I can't believe, that she went and bought the exact same things as me. She not only went into the same shop (which is fine) but she bought the exact same things! Has she no shame? Is she not embarrassed, does she not feel pathetic? I would be completely ashamed of buying the exact same thing as someone else, and then have them come into my house and see that I've copied them. How shameful! Shame, shame, shame.
The reason I'm not having a go at the other woman - though I am still upset! - is because Hubbie said to me not to be. She's older, and she looks at other people for home ideas. She doesn't know. I exhaled loudly when I heard this. I'm still exhaling. I wanna do it for him, but it's not easy. I would do anything for him though.
But Mouth. Mouth is younger than the woman. She's older than us. (Another shameful thing, copying people younger than you) She should know better. When the woman called Mouth and said "I want to get the same things as Miss S," Mouth should have said "No, that's embarrassing, we'll go and get something different."
Mouth, the same Mouth who would have a go at someone for copying her. The same mouth who only ever praises or talks about herself. The same mouth who never gives anyone recognition. Do you think when guests comment on her kitchen things that she's going to be honest and say "I copied Miss S' style"? No! No she won't because she is a narcissist!
Argh! I'm so furious. I can't take it. The saying about imitation being flattery, is a load of bullshit. It's not flattery for someone whose suffered the effects of people trying to steal her style for only HER ENTIRE LIFE.
It absolutely boils me to my core. Do not copy me! Especially you, Mouth! I can't stand it, I'm absolutely fuming with anger.
Hubbie and I don't have the biggest house. But with what we have, we try to make the best of it, and put really fine touches to our house to make it unique. We buy quality items, interesting pieces, and all the furnishings show attention to detail and careful planning. Both Mouth and woman have big, new houses. Do they have to take the one thing I have, my style? Do they want that too? What else do they want from me, my life?
Leave me with the one thing I have, please. Leave me that. But no, they had to take it. SHE had to take it.
These obsessive fiery thoughts would not stop going around and around in my head yesterday. I had to talk to Sis. She is awesome, she is so awesome that my next post will be about her, to counteract the angst that is Mouth and everything about her that I despise.
Sis helped me. She tried to get me to see it in a different light. She suggested the conclusions that Hubbie and I had already come to: that we don't tell them where we buy our things in the future - we be vague if ever asked; and that this whole situation was a lesson learnt for the future. She didn't see it in the way I did, because she says she's had a friend copy her thing, and she's even copied another friend for something. But see, it's the way you go about it. My sister is very honest, and would admit to the person how much she loved it and that she was intending to buy one for herself. Mouth however is sneaky. She gives me praise - just enough - but not so much that I thought she really liked it. Then she organised a shopping day with woman, they went off and bought it without a mention of it to Hubbie and I. When it was too late, it was all bought and done.
Hubbie agrees. He's not so hung up on it as I am, but when I asked him, he admitted "I'm spewing." He didn't have to have someone copy him his whole life to make him want to be original and have different things. It's so annoying.
You know what else? We have this other 'kitchen item' a 'coffee machine' (not really, still hypothetical!) that she's asked us about, and I've said that we've bought it in a far-off region. She also knows that some of our other home furnishings are from that 'far-off region.' Guess where Mouth and her family went a couple of weeks ago? To the far-off region! What, you need another coffee machine? Get your own fucking style you leeches!
Geez, do they want to copy our whole house? The thing that peeves me off, is as I said in reference to my Sis, they're not honest. Admit you like it. Say it out loud and MEAN IT. Unlike them, who often snub their noses at things we've seen, things we've bought, and things we've done (like going to the far-off region) and then they explode with fireworks and expect you to shower them with attention when THEY GO!
I know, I know. Narcissists, in every sense of the word.
We're actually going to find a whole new, different, unique and original fruit bowl with matching salt and pepper shakers. In a couple of months we're going to a similar far-off region, and I'm going to go into as many shops there as I can, and find something bigger and better. (See how we have to buy something different because of other, annoying people?)
And THEN when they say "oh, you have different ones?!"
I'M going to say "yes, I like to have truly original pieces unlike anything anyone else has."
And I hope that that boils her and makes her feel PATHETIC. Copy cat.
What I hope for most? That after this realisation I make her come to (and I will) that she will always see my face in her fruit bowl and salt and pepper shakers. Forever.
And I hope she can live with herself for that. Because denial doesn't ever change the fact.
Let's play the hypothetical game again, with not so hypothetical people, and a not at all hypothetical situation.
Let's say, I have some really nice kitchen items. To make this game easier, I'll say I have a beautiful fruit bowl, with matching salt and pepper shakers that sit beside it. It took me ages to find something this beautiful, unique and original in the modern style Hubbie and I were going for in the kitchen (remember, hypothetical!) So when we got it and put it in there a couple of months ago, we were like "Ahhhh." Looks good.
Now, about a month ago we had Mouth over with another couple. During the course of the visit, after she had been to my kitchen, she commented to me "oh, I like your fruit bowl, and the salt and pepper shakers. Really nice. Where did you get it?"
I was probably slightly thrown by the fact that she never really notices anything or anyone but herself, and it seemed she was giving me a genuine compliment for my kitchen things. I said quite casually "oh, from blah and blah."
I didn't think much of it. I later heard from Hubbie that the other couple who were over, well the woman expressed how much she really liked my kitchen things, and added "they're from blah and blah, yeah?"
When Hubbie told me this I was like "no! She can't get the same things as us!" But the knowledge that the shopping centre we got it from wasn't exactly local, kept me secure in the fact that she wouldn't go there by herself and get them. She could just safely admire them from a dsitance whenever she was at our house.
So I forgot about it.
Just recently, we found ourselves at this woman's house. Mouth was there also, and some other people. A couple of hours into it, Hubbie whispers to me "have you been to the kitchen?"
He has a weird look on his face. "What?" I ask, confused.
"She bought the things." He's smiling but I can see his expression is really wary, judging me and how I'm going to react. My mouth drops open as I realise what he's talking about. I'm gaping.
"Don't overreact. Don't make a scene."
I get up immediately and march to the kitchen. My heart drops when I get there, when I see MY fruit browl and matching salt and pepper shakers.
I am in absolute shock. She bloody went there. She went to the shopping centre, to the exact same shop and bought the same bloody things as me. And now her kitchen looks like mine.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
I am completely deflated. Dismayed, upset, devastated, shocked. Hubbie reads my face as I come and sit back down. "Don't jump, you don't know the full story. Don't be upset, ok?" I'm wondering at his words, wondering what the hell extra there is to know that would make this situation better for me, but I try to push it out of my mind, not wanting to appear obvious.
Not too long after that, I'm talking to Mouth. And somehow, in conversation, she says "so last weekend I went to blah shopping centre with woman, to get those things at blah shop, you know your kitchen things?"
All the pieces are falling into place. But it's actually getting worse for me.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, we went and bought them."
The word we I'm having an especially hard time with. It's sticking out like a sore thumb in a sentence of fingers.
"You went and bought the exact same things?" My tone is dead, expressionless. I'm numb with shock.
"Yeah." Her response is almost questioning. As if she's trying to work out what my take is on all of it.
She goes on and on as my heart sinks deeper.
"They have good priced forks there, you know," she waffles on. (hypothetical forks!)
"Yeah," I say flatly. "That's why I like it there. I like to get good, different things that arent the same as everyone else."
There's a distinct pause. I can hear her thinking. Then, because she's a fucking tool, she continues unaffected.
Phew. I need to calm down.
Perhaps I need to give you a little back story, so you can understand my strong aversion to copying.
Growing up, I had a friend, let's simply call her copy-cat. Enough said, right? In primary school she would read off my work, and when I'd catch her I'd yell out "stop copying!" She would say back angrily "I'm not copying!" And yet she would still do it, peering over my arm which I tried to protectively cover my work with.
All my friends knew. When she was near them she would try to copy their work too. But because my regular seat was next to her, I got the brunt of it.
Copy-cat and I went to the same high school. Here, I didn't have as many classes with her, but the rest of my friends there soon found out how she was, and again she was accused of copying. The annyoing thing with her was that she would copy you, and then make her work better. That was the aggravating thing. That and obviously denying that she was even plagiarising our work.
It was easier for me in high school, knowing my friends there could see what I could see. But then as I thought I lost her annoying habit, I gained the same habit in someone else. My cousins Legs and Hair.
Now I absolutely love them to pieces, I really do. But there was a time when I was growing up, and them being younger than me and looking up to me of course, that they would imitate me. They liked the things I liked. They dressed like me. And on and on. At one stage one of them confided to me that their own grandmother said to them "You should be more like Miss S." Although I was only 14 at the time, I lost it when I heard this. "Screw her! Don't be like me, or anybody else, be your own person!"
And they did, and I'm so proud of my adopted sisters for what they have grown into.
But what I'm trying to show here is that I had a lot of copying of me over the years, copying that scarred me, and that has made me want to be completely original, different and unlike anybody else. The more people copied me, the more I shied away and tried to be even more original and unique.
So that, on top of the fact that I have to mentally imagine kicking Mouth like a football far off into the distance just to get her annoyingness out of my head, has got me so unbelievably pissed off that you can't imagine.
I can't believe, that she went and bought the exact same things as me. She not only went into the same shop (which is fine) but she bought the exact same things! Has she no shame? Is she not embarrassed, does she not feel pathetic? I would be completely ashamed of buying the exact same thing as someone else, and then have them come into my house and see that I've copied them. How shameful! Shame, shame, shame.
The reason I'm not having a go at the other woman - though I am still upset! - is because Hubbie said to me not to be. She's older, and she looks at other people for home ideas. She doesn't know. I exhaled loudly when I heard this. I'm still exhaling. I wanna do it for him, but it's not easy. I would do anything for him though.
But Mouth. Mouth is younger than the woman. She's older than us. (Another shameful thing, copying people younger than you) She should know better. When the woman called Mouth and said "I want to get the same things as Miss S," Mouth should have said "No, that's embarrassing, we'll go and get something different."
Mouth, the same Mouth who would have a go at someone for copying her. The same mouth who only ever praises or talks about herself. The same mouth who never gives anyone recognition. Do you think when guests comment on her kitchen things that she's going to be honest and say "I copied Miss S' style"? No! No she won't because she is a narcissist!
Argh! I'm so furious. I can't take it. The saying about imitation being flattery, is a load of bullshit. It's not flattery for someone whose suffered the effects of people trying to steal her style for only HER ENTIRE LIFE.
It absolutely boils me to my core. Do not copy me! Especially you, Mouth! I can't stand it, I'm absolutely fuming with anger.
Hubbie and I don't have the biggest house. But with what we have, we try to make the best of it, and put really fine touches to our house to make it unique. We buy quality items, interesting pieces, and all the furnishings show attention to detail and careful planning. Both Mouth and woman have big, new houses. Do they have to take the one thing I have, my style? Do they want that too? What else do they want from me, my life?
Leave me with the one thing I have, please. Leave me that. But no, they had to take it. SHE had to take it.
These obsessive fiery thoughts would not stop going around and around in my head yesterday. I had to talk to Sis. She is awesome, she is so awesome that my next post will be about her, to counteract the angst that is Mouth and everything about her that I despise.
Sis helped me. She tried to get me to see it in a different light. She suggested the conclusions that Hubbie and I had already come to: that we don't tell them where we buy our things in the future - we be vague if ever asked; and that this whole situation was a lesson learnt for the future. She didn't see it in the way I did, because she says she's had a friend copy her thing, and she's even copied another friend for something. But see, it's the way you go about it. My sister is very honest, and would admit to the person how much she loved it and that she was intending to buy one for herself. Mouth however is sneaky. She gives me praise - just enough - but not so much that I thought she really liked it. Then she organised a shopping day with woman, they went off and bought it without a mention of it to Hubbie and I. When it was too late, it was all bought and done.
Hubbie agrees. He's not so hung up on it as I am, but when I asked him, he admitted "I'm spewing." He didn't have to have someone copy him his whole life to make him want to be original and have different things. It's so annoying.
You know what else? We have this other 'kitchen item' a 'coffee machine' (not really, still hypothetical!) that she's asked us about, and I've said that we've bought it in a far-off region. She also knows that some of our other home furnishings are from that 'far-off region.' Guess where Mouth and her family went a couple of weeks ago? To the far-off region! What, you need another coffee machine? Get your own fucking style you leeches!
Geez, do they want to copy our whole house? The thing that peeves me off, is as I said in reference to my Sis, they're not honest. Admit you like it. Say it out loud and MEAN IT. Unlike them, who often snub their noses at things we've seen, things we've bought, and things we've done (like going to the far-off region) and then they explode with fireworks and expect you to shower them with attention when THEY GO!
I know, I know. Narcissists, in every sense of the word.
We're actually going to find a whole new, different, unique and original fruit bowl with matching salt and pepper shakers. In a couple of months we're going to a similar far-off region, and I'm going to go into as many shops there as I can, and find something bigger and better. (See how we have to buy something different because of other, annoying people?)
And THEN when they say "oh, you have different ones?!"
I'M going to say "yes, I like to have truly original pieces unlike anything anyone else has."
And I hope that that boils her and makes her feel PATHETIC. Copy cat.
What I hope for most? That after this realisation I make her come to (and I will) that she will always see my face in her fruit bowl and salt and pepper shakers. Forever.
And I hope she can live with herself for that. Because denial doesn't ever change the fact.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
The spiders have broken me
Back in my "Bubble and Squeak" post, I sort of gave you a scrambled up version of what had been happening in my life recently. Shortly after that, I remembered that I'd had a huge thing happen, that had absolutely, positively, FREAKED ME OUT. But, I decided that rather than update my post, or mention anything about my freak out, I would pretend nothing had ever happened, therefore ignoring the incident in order to hopefully not attract anything like that again. A la The Secret.
Well, something happened over a week ago, and in a similar although totally more freakish incident earlier this week, and I just can't contain the truth any longer. I must verbalise my fear.
The spiders. Huntsmen. They're baaaaaacccckkkkk.
I need to update you on what happened last time to freak me out so much. I should try and give an edited version of the incident in question, but I don't know if I can. I'll try.
About a month ago now, I was driving into work on a mild-to-developing-hot morning. As I got closer to the city, I remember thinking to myself, "should I open the windows?" I decided against it, and also half forgot. I guess at the time the heavy wind outside put me off.
When I was about 5 minutes away from work, stationary in traffic before some red lights, all of a sudden, something appeared to drop on my car bonnet in front of me.
I stopped and stared. I stared and stared at the object, frozen. Uncertain. Was that a spider?
Surely enough the huntsman scurried along the bonnet to one side. Just thinking of it now makes me shudder.
I was quietly freaking out. Here I was, driving to work, and a huntsman had just apparently dropped from the sky onto my car. Thinking back, I believe I was under a tree when it appeared, so it may have fallen from there.
It started crawling, towards the windscreen, to one side and to the next. I didn't know what to do. I was trying to drive, and getting totally sidetracked by this disgusting THING. I suddenly recalled my decision against opening my window, and thanked God I hadn't, or else it may have come inside my car. With my bad luck that could have happened, and I totally would have had a car accident. I would have gone mental.
I considered putting on my windscreen wipers when it crawled towards the window, however I was worried I would splatter it and have to look at a dead mangled spider for the next 5 minutes, which equally would have grossed me out. However in hindsight, I should have opted for that path. My other concern was that I would fling it, and then not know if it was still on the car. As warped as the logic sounds, at least if it's on the car, I'm certain of it, whereas not knowing it is there, and it IS, I would too easily be careless and then get a heart attack when it decided to reappear again.
So, I drove to the regular car park I go too, and the spider had decided to disappear along the bottom of the wipers. It was as if it was mocking me against my decision to initally use them.
As I approached the small booth that park-ees pay at before proceeding to park, I already had a little plan. D-man, the parking attendant who I see practically every day, was there. I left my window up, and proceeded to attempt sign language for the first time in my life.
"Is there a spider up there?" I yelled through the closed window, simultaneously pointing upwards and imitating a spiders crawl.
He looked confused. Perhaps because I was communicating through a closed window.
"Spider!!! Up there?!" I called louder.
D-man still looked puzzled.
I opened the window an inch. "Is there a spider up there? It was crawling and now it's gone and I'm really scared...."
"No, no, no spider."
"Sure?"
"Yes I'm sure I can't see anything."
I reluctantly, yet quickly opened the window and paid him, not only because I was scared the spider would re-appear but I had a line of cars building up behind me also wanting to get in.
"You scared of spiders?" D-man asked. He had a cheeky grin.
"Yeah, I just don't like them."
"It's ok I understand, my girlfriend is the same. No spiders there, don't worry."
I quickly closed my window, and went to park my car. As soon as I was all parked, and ready to go with my bags, I took a deep breath.
I had to get out of the car, but at the same time, I didn't know where on the car this spider was. My intense fear was that it would somehow fall on me as I climbed out, and the thought of that sent me into a huge desperation and panic.
I decided to sort of push my drivers door open, and then scoot over as close as possible to the passengers side, while still craning my neck towards the open door to try see if there was anything near my drivers side. I was practically sitting on the parking brake. I was there, peering over towards the car door opening, when I saw it.
Shudder.
This is very hard for me, just picturing it is totally freaking me out. I remember my fear and emotional pain and I'm doing it for the blog, so I hope one day someone appreciates it.
Ok, continuing.
The spider was crawling along the drivers side door, up the window. I freaked out, and practically jumped out the passengers side, all my bags in tow. To be honest, I actually have no recollection of jumping out of the car, or how I got over the parking brake and middle-car-bit (excuse my car lingo), that's how freaked out I was. I quickly ran to the drivers side, because I absolutely HAD to know where the spider was. If I lost sight of it, I would never know where it was, and that lack of knowledge would make me lose my mind.
It was now crawling right above the drivers door opening, rather than on the open door. It was in such an awkward position, that I didn't know if closing my door would kill it, force it out, or God forbid, enclose it in the car.
I think I stared at the spider for about 5 minutes, trying to work out what to do. I went to the passenger side and tried to look at where it was through the window. I looked around. I called a fellow work colleague, who we'll call Densley, who I was hoping was on his way to park at the very same car park as I was at. He didn't answer. I would've gotten D-man involved, only he was at his busiest time, with all cars coming in during the morning peak hour.
Before I could think much more, or decide on a plan of action, the spider dropped. It just disappeared. I didn't see where it went, it didn't look like it was on the ground or under the car. It simply dropped, and with it went my stomach.
There was nothing else to do, so I gingerly stepped towards the open drivers door and gently pushed it closed. My light push meant the car door didn't close fully, but that didn't worry me at that point.
At this point it was 9am. I had gotten there before quarter to nine.
As I trudged up towards the attendants booth, D-man saw me. "Where is the spider?" he asked smiling.
"I think it's in my car! I'm so scared, I don't know what to do."
"If you like, give me your keys, and when I have a bit more time, I will check it for you," he offered.
"Thank you." I was hoping he was gonna say that. I just didn't know what to do at that point.
As I trudged towards work, a deepening sense of dread seemed to sink further into me. I realised, that if D-man didn't find the spider, there was absolutely, positively, NO WAY I was driving home that day. The chance of a spider being in the car was too much to bare. I couldn't do it. It had to be killed, and I was beginning to realise that I had to see it get killed. There was no other way to guarantee my sanity and sense of certainty.
As I got to work, I was feeling so helpless, and I don't deal with not being in control of a situation too well. That day was another musical chairs day, I could see as I walked in, as my usual spot was being occupied by someone else, and rather I was going to have the spot next to Kitty. Usually I'd get a bit cranky and possessive about not being in my own spot (because I'm fully anal and have OCD) but today I just didn't care.
As I put my bags down, Kitty started to talk to me about some work of mine she had followed up on. She was chatting and going on and on, and I was just staring at her blankly, adding a monotonous "yeah" every so often.
Then I just said it. There was a slight lull in the conversation, and I went "Kitty, I don't know what to do, there's a big spider and I think it's in my car, and I don't know what to do."
A huge deepening sense of sadness washed over me and my throat tightened. I can't remember her reply. I'm sure it was something comforting.
Again I spoke, this time, my words were FLOODED with emotion. "Kitty, I actually CAN'T drive home if I don't see it dead. I just can't. I'm seriously freaking out." The tightness in my throat gave way to a huge ball that I just couldn't swallow, and tears welled in my eyes. My chin was going to start to quiver, I could feel it.
"I'm sorry, I have to gather myself," I said as I practically ran off. As I ran, hand over half my face, I happened past Densley, who in that moment, had seen that he'd missed my call, and also that I was apparently running off crying.
I was in the kitchen, trying to pull myself together, when I realised the most private place was the bathroom. So again off I ran. When I walked in, another woman was already in there, a newbie who had just recently joined our wider department. I mumbled a hello and stumbled into the cubicle.
Guess what? My parusesis was all GONE as I deliberately made myself go, knowing that just sitting in the cubicle would spark some curiosity in the newbie woman. She didn't have to know why I was traumatised, and I already felt totally stupid for crying over a freaking spider. However it seemed Kitty had other plans.
I heard the door open. "Miss S?" Kitty called.
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry about the spider ok? Densley has a vaccuum and he's going to vaccuum it out for you."
"I feel like such a dickhead Kitty."
"Don't worry Miss S he'll get it out."
As I walked out of the cubicle Kitty was already gone. Leaving the newbie, who had heard our discussion, unless she was selectively deaf.
"You're gonna think of me as the bug woman," I started with her. This statement came because of ANOTHER incident (I just attract incidents don't I?) that had occurred a couple weeks before that, where as a group of us went on a break, before opening the door that exits our department, which is also next to the door which leads to the bathroom, as we walked, a moth flew up from the corner, making me scream, the 2 girls with me scream and also funnily enough Densley scream. It was the screaming moth-effect, so to speak, And as this happened newbie woman had walked out of the bathroom ,witnessing our scream fest due to random moth.
So, now in the bathroom, I told her about the spider in my car. And you know what, she was so nice. She's become one of my fave people at work now. She was really comforting, adding that she had once left her car in mid-traffic because of a spider in her car. I felt so much better hearing that. Apparently I wasn't the only freak-spider-incident-attracting person.
I walked out, all regrouped and breathing normal again, and there was Densley, with a mini vaccuum in hand. I felt really touched, yet really stupid for reacting the way I had, especially at work. He on the otherhand, had thought I'd been in a car accident or something, what with the missed call and running off crying, and he'd felt really bad. He'd gotten the vaccuum from someone's work drawer, and now we were ready to do some damage.
Off we went, me in the background looping with "I feel like such a dickhead, really I do. Thank you so much for this...."
D-man thought we were hilarious as he handed me my keys back at the car park. He'd been busy and hadn't had a chance to check on the demon spider. And so we walked to my car. There still reminding me of my horrendous episode was the drivers door, still partly not-quite-closed.
Densley started opening up doors, as I explained where I'd last seen the spider, and watched from a good safe few metres away what was unfolding. He opened the drivers door, then the passengers door, looking inside and around the door every time. I was near the passengers side, when he opened the rear drivers side door.
"It's here, I've got it," was what he said. I couldn't see (I was practically cowering) but he tried to suck it up with the vaccuum.
And then it started to scurry. (Ugh, shudder). It started to run over the car roof and we whipped into action, slamming doors closed so that it couldn't get into the car. As it wondered where to go, Densley at this point said "it's only a baby."
Sorry, a baby? Only a baby? Well if that's a baby I'd like to see what you call a fully grown huntsman. Yuck.
Densley tried to suck it up with the vaccuum, several times, but somehow, and this is the point that confused me, it 'fell' off the car. I say this because at the time Densley said it fell down, and although I felt utterly disappointed because it offered no conclusion for me, he assured me it wasn't in the car. I consoled myself, thinking, 'even if it's on the bottom of the car, it can't get inside.' He seemed to me to be speaking very vaguely, and so I felt somewhat consoled yet still confused.
I felt exhausted getting back to work. I'd just gone through an emotional train wreck, and I wasn't even sure if I was out of the tunnel yet. Upstairs at work having a tea break with my buddies, I stared at my mug of tea, constantly envisaging the demon spider to suddenly appear, crawling out of my tea like something out of a horror movie.
At the end of my shift that day Densley offered to walk me to my car, and check out the interior so that I could drive home feeling more secure. He was hanging back at work for a work function, and I had to run off, meet Hubbie and leave for Mr Wine's uni graduation party that he was having at his place that night.
Densley was awesome. He lifted everything that could be lifted, checked out every nook and cranny in my car, very thoroughly, constantly reassuring me that it couldn't get in the car, IF it was on the car. It was sometime at this point that he said the spider has actually fallen on the ground, in which case he strongly believed it would have crawled off into the adjoining bushes, rather than hang around. I really hoped he was right, also really glad to know he'd seen it fall on the ground. I was so annoying, I asked him to confirm that fact for me, oh, about 6, 7 times.
Nontheless, I drove home, with the windows UP, in the warm car, constantly looking around me.
Hubbie was conveniently outside when I got home, so I sign languaged to him to check for spiders on the roof of the car. Once again my sign language proved futile, and he looked confused despite me yelling through the window, so I tentatively opened the door and quicky explained before I got out.
That night at the party, I told Red everything. I had a good laugh with her about it, we acted slightly like hysterical women do when it comes to spiders, and she told me that yes, that was quite a story. Vaccuum and all.
And so, as the great night ended, and it came close to midnight, Hubbie and I wondered off home. We both had work the next day, and had to get a move on. Being dark outside, my somewhat relaxed disposition in joking about my ordeal to Red had now transgressed to a paranoid cautiousness. In the car we got, and I began to drive, again constantly looking around me through the windows.
We had been driving all but 5 minutes. Not even. I took a path home via some back streets, however they were sort of commonly used back streets. This time of night wasn't too busy though.
I looked at my drivers mirror, and in it I could see the rear window, enveloped by the black night surrounding it. No cars were behind me, so only occasionally was the window lit up by passing streetlamps.
Then I saw something. Weird.
"Is that birdshit?" I asked Hubbie, confused, still driving yet staring at the reflection in my mirror. It looked like odd, random lines across the window, and when I thought about it I could've sworn no birdshit had been there during the day...
Hubbie turned around towards the rear window to look. He didn't say a thing. And in that moment, I knew.
I just pulled over. I barely could, being in the narrow back streets and all, but without looking I stopped the car, then put my indicator on. I was lucky there'd been no one behind me. I looked behind me at the window, and the freaking spider, IT was very quickly scurrying across the window.
"Quick!" I screamed. "Get it, get it!"
Hubbie and I have an unspoken agreement. I give him much love and happiness. He kills any bug I request. It's an agreement that works very well for us. It's never a question of WHO will get rid of any weird thing that comes MY way. He knows his job, his duty to protect me. And he does it well.
"Close the door!" I screeched. Hubbie slammed the door behind him, and I turned around to see the spider scurrying around to the rear passengers window, right where Hubbie was in front of. It was fast.
"Where is it?" he called out from the darkness.
"There!" I screamed wildly, pointing to the rear window in front of him.
He paused. Saw the spider. And went "Faaaaarrrrrrrr."
In a matter of 5 seconds, he took off his shoe, and BANG! Off the window the spider went. To spider heaven.
Meanwhile, about 3 cars had piled up behind me, unable to overtake because of the oncoming traffic. I wondered if the sight of Hubbie with one shoe, other shoe in hand bashing a spider, at 11.30pm in a little back street, would seem weird. I knew if any men in those cars had partners, that it would most likely be a natural occurence for them.
Hubbie came back to the car, and once again, as I'd done with Densley, I bombarded him with the same 2 types of questions about 8 times:
"Is it dead?"
"Yes."
"Was it on the car or on the ground?"
"It was on the ground."
"Are you sure it's not still on your shoe?"
"No I checked it's outside."
"So it's definitely dead?"
"Yes."
"And you're sure it was on the ground, like dead? It couldn't have gotten away."
"No, I got it Miss S."
"And I just have to make sure, it's not still on your shoe? I can't have it in my car Hubbie...."
And so this conversation was repeated, perhaps another 3 times on the short 10 minute drive home.
Boy, had I had a day. What a spider saga. Now it was uncertain to me whether or not the spider that had 'reappeared ' that night on the drive home was the same spider hat had been on my car that morning. I say that because Mr Wine lives in the same area Hubbie used to live, and that area is abundant to THOSE kinds of spiders, as I've had one come to live on my car for a couple of weeks because of parking under a tree there before we were married.
That, combined with hearing a few days later that my bestie Red had gotten a similar surprise of her own, FINDING a yuck spider IN HER CAR, after parking at her man's house, makes me think that it may indeed have been a new spider on my car that night, if even Red got one later on. But, it's too much of a coincidence for me to think that I had a spider on my car that morning, and then another one that night.
I'm calling the morning spider the terminator spider in my spider saga. It came back with a vengeance. It stayed on my car and reappeared to horrify me (yes I know that's not a real word, is it?). And in true terminator style, after its demise, all that remained of its existence was a lone spider leg hanging off my window, like the broken limb rattling on the back of the car in T2. Shudder.
Story 2: (yes my nightmare continues)
About 2 weeks ago I've come home from work to some good news from Hubbie: he has sprayed the entire exterior of the house with insect spray. I was rapt, because with the ascending Spring/Summer weather, I knew there'd be trouble, and I wanted to get the house 'protected' before any incidents occurred.
All was good, all was fine. 'Til that night.
In bed, Hubbie had his eyes closed next to me. I was reading one of my books, and as I went to turn the page, something caught my eye, above me. I looked up.
A freaking, massive, disgusting huntsman (shudder) was in the top corner of our room, above the doorway, near the air con vent. (And as I write, from bed, I can't help but look up and check that the coast is clear).
I don't know if I cried out, or poked Hubbie, but he opened his eyes, and I just pointed to the ceiling.
Once again - "Faaaaarrrrrrr."
At first he didn't know what he was going to try kill it with, 'til I handed him my slipper. I jumped out of bed and stood near the window, as far away from the impending murder scene as possible. As he got closer, the spider scurried closer to the vent. This was very worrysome. We assume that's where it came from, and we didn't want it going back to its hiding spot. Hubbie was now on a mission, he had to get it, before it got away.
From what he said (because I just couldn't look), IT was quick. It took a few thumps, Hubbie jumping towards the ceiling and all, but he got it, leaving a beautiful mess behind. Far out. On the same freaking day Hubbie had acted to repell the house of insects, the biggest and baddest of them all appears, IN OUR BEDROOM of all places. And that's not it. Guess what my big mouth said right after, if only to make things worse:
"Far out. Imagine I wasn't reading, and we had the lights off. We wouldn't have known it was here."
As I said the words, I stopped, frozen. Yes, imagine that horrific scenario. Unknown to us, that thing crawling around the walls of our bedroom around us. And to think, what other times, when the lights were off, was something crawling around in our beddroom....???
I'd actually shot myself in the foot with that comment, that observation. In that moment I was more than terrified, I was petrified, MORTIFIED. It took some coaxing from Hubbie to make me turn my lamp light off, and even then, I edged myself as close as possible to him as we lay there, despite the too-warm night. My eyes frantically searched the walls around me in the darkness, as my eyes grew more and more adjusted to the night. That night, I had constant dreams of crawling huntsmen, and I had such an interrupted nights sleep, waking at least 5 times, each time searching the walls around me with paranoid eyes.
I felt I had lost control.
Why was this happening to me? No, not the spiders as much. I was well aware that by thinking of spiders, even though in fear, I was still attracting their presence to me. Which is hard to avoid when you do think of them in fear. But more, I didn't understand when I had grown sooooooo fearful.
I thought of my entire life history and association with spiders. In my 3rd birthday video, little Miss S says to the camera "spider, yuck," after cutesy-coaxing from my parents in my thoughts of them. This may have come about because of my sisters intense phobia of spiders, hence the discussion of them.
Living with my parents, yes they got spiders, but nowhere near as many, or as disgusting as the ones we got here. Over there there was always daddy-long-legs, and little itty-bitty, bullshit jumping spiders. Sure, occasionally there would be a big one. But that's it, occasionally, not EVERY SINGLE TIME.
I thought of last summer. WOW. There had been soooooo many big huntsmen. Hubbie thought I was calling them out to play when he went to bed, with all my stories of chasing them around with the mortein. And yet, despite their appearances, I chased them. I certainly didn't cower into a little corner and cry.
I remembered my last incident of the summer. The biggest grand-daddy of all mega-huge-huntsmen had appeared one Friday night, and it was a horrible experience. I think it was quite possibly the size of my whole hand. I sprayed it, it went behind the fridge, and I actually had to watch it and wait for it to be in spraying range again before I could try kill it. I was waiting with a torch and all. Then it disappeared under the dishwasher. When I noticed a gap above the dishwasher, that could allow the spider to crawl up and into the adjoining section of cupboards, onto my servingware, pots and pans, I lost my shit. There was no way it's mortein-covered body was gonna spoil my dishes. I ran upstairs, trying to wake Hubbie through my intense sobbing, begging him to come downstairs and kill it for me.
When he moved the dishwasher, and saw IT, apparently all-white covered in Mortein gunk, he says it was practically dead already, it was so loaded with my attack spray. And what did he say when he saw it?
"Faaaaarrrrrr."
He freely admits, it's the biggest spider he's seen in our house, I think even to date. And it remains in our spider history of stories, the Grand-Daddy of spiders.
So I think, after last summers intense onslaught of spider after spider coming into our home, concluding with the biggest mother you've ever seen, I actually became broken from all my experiences, and rather than lifting my metaphorical sword in the air and proclaiming "I will destroy you," I've collapsed into a shell of fear, worry and paranoia. I'm not kidding when I say I do automatic scans of the rooms I enter in the house, ESPECIALLY at night. It's driving me crazy.
I must say, despite the whole agony of this post, being all "woe is me, spiders are out to get me," there is a slight positive note I can end with. Since the recent incident of the thing in our bedroom, we haven't had another appearance, of any kind (I'm not including last nights daddy-long-legs, that spider is so not intimidating). Which I'm slightly terrified to admit, knowing after I post this that I'm walking downstairs to put my computer back in the study, and passing room, after room, after room....
Perhaps that one recent incident was that spider just getting out, that is, the house being purged of all insects after Hubbies spray-a-thon. That sort of makes sense. And makes me happy. And able to breathe. And walk in and out of rooms here, a bit easier.
But what happened to me earlier in the week wasn't so breathe-easy on me. Having a tea break at work, early in the morning, listening to a colleague talk about crab fishing or something like that, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, towards my lap.
I looked down, and to my intense shock and horror, a MOTH was sitting in my lap. Ugh, Shudder.
I screamed jumping up, in turn not only giving myself a proper wake-up call, but also enlightening my colleagues around me. My scream really started their day.
Geez. When will these bugs ever learn? I don't like them. STAY AWAY.
Well, something happened over a week ago, and in a similar although totally more freakish incident earlier this week, and I just can't contain the truth any longer. I must verbalise my fear.
The spiders. Huntsmen. They're baaaaaacccckkkkk.
I need to update you on what happened last time to freak me out so much. I should try and give an edited version of the incident in question, but I don't know if I can. I'll try.
About a month ago now, I was driving into work on a mild-to-developing-hot morning. As I got closer to the city, I remember thinking to myself, "should I open the windows?" I decided against it, and also half forgot. I guess at the time the heavy wind outside put me off.
When I was about 5 minutes away from work, stationary in traffic before some red lights, all of a sudden, something appeared to drop on my car bonnet in front of me.
I stopped and stared. I stared and stared at the object, frozen. Uncertain. Was that a spider?
Surely enough the huntsman scurried along the bonnet to one side. Just thinking of it now makes me shudder.
I was quietly freaking out. Here I was, driving to work, and a huntsman had just apparently dropped from the sky onto my car. Thinking back, I believe I was under a tree when it appeared, so it may have fallen from there.
It started crawling, towards the windscreen, to one side and to the next. I didn't know what to do. I was trying to drive, and getting totally sidetracked by this disgusting THING. I suddenly recalled my decision against opening my window, and thanked God I hadn't, or else it may have come inside my car. With my bad luck that could have happened, and I totally would have had a car accident. I would have gone mental.
I considered putting on my windscreen wipers when it crawled towards the window, however I was worried I would splatter it and have to look at a dead mangled spider for the next 5 minutes, which equally would have grossed me out. However in hindsight, I should have opted for that path. My other concern was that I would fling it, and then not know if it was still on the car. As warped as the logic sounds, at least if it's on the car, I'm certain of it, whereas not knowing it is there, and it IS, I would too easily be careless and then get a heart attack when it decided to reappear again.
So, I drove to the regular car park I go too, and the spider had decided to disappear along the bottom of the wipers. It was as if it was mocking me against my decision to initally use them.
As I approached the small booth that park-ees pay at before proceeding to park, I already had a little plan. D-man, the parking attendant who I see practically every day, was there. I left my window up, and proceeded to attempt sign language for the first time in my life.
"Is there a spider up there?" I yelled through the closed window, simultaneously pointing upwards and imitating a spiders crawl.
He looked confused. Perhaps because I was communicating through a closed window.
"Spider!!! Up there?!" I called louder.
D-man still looked puzzled.
I opened the window an inch. "Is there a spider up there? It was crawling and now it's gone and I'm really scared...."
"No, no, no spider."
"Sure?"
"Yes I'm sure I can't see anything."
I reluctantly, yet quickly opened the window and paid him, not only because I was scared the spider would re-appear but I had a line of cars building up behind me also wanting to get in.
"You scared of spiders?" D-man asked. He had a cheeky grin.
"Yeah, I just don't like them."
"It's ok I understand, my girlfriend is the same. No spiders there, don't worry."
I quickly closed my window, and went to park my car. As soon as I was all parked, and ready to go with my bags, I took a deep breath.
I had to get out of the car, but at the same time, I didn't know where on the car this spider was. My intense fear was that it would somehow fall on me as I climbed out, and the thought of that sent me into a huge desperation and panic.
I decided to sort of push my drivers door open, and then scoot over as close as possible to the passengers side, while still craning my neck towards the open door to try see if there was anything near my drivers side. I was practically sitting on the parking brake. I was there, peering over towards the car door opening, when I saw it.
Shudder.
This is very hard for me, just picturing it is totally freaking me out. I remember my fear and emotional pain and I'm doing it for the blog, so I hope one day someone appreciates it.
Ok, continuing.
The spider was crawling along the drivers side door, up the window. I freaked out, and practically jumped out the passengers side, all my bags in tow. To be honest, I actually have no recollection of jumping out of the car, or how I got over the parking brake and middle-car-bit (excuse my car lingo), that's how freaked out I was. I quickly ran to the drivers side, because I absolutely HAD to know where the spider was. If I lost sight of it, I would never know where it was, and that lack of knowledge would make me lose my mind.
It was now crawling right above the drivers door opening, rather than on the open door. It was in such an awkward position, that I didn't know if closing my door would kill it, force it out, or God forbid, enclose it in the car.
I think I stared at the spider for about 5 minutes, trying to work out what to do. I went to the passenger side and tried to look at where it was through the window. I looked around. I called a fellow work colleague, who we'll call Densley, who I was hoping was on his way to park at the very same car park as I was at. He didn't answer. I would've gotten D-man involved, only he was at his busiest time, with all cars coming in during the morning peak hour.
Before I could think much more, or decide on a plan of action, the spider dropped. It just disappeared. I didn't see where it went, it didn't look like it was on the ground or under the car. It simply dropped, and with it went my stomach.
There was nothing else to do, so I gingerly stepped towards the open drivers door and gently pushed it closed. My light push meant the car door didn't close fully, but that didn't worry me at that point.
At this point it was 9am. I had gotten there before quarter to nine.
As I trudged up towards the attendants booth, D-man saw me. "Where is the spider?" he asked smiling.
"I think it's in my car! I'm so scared, I don't know what to do."
"If you like, give me your keys, and when I have a bit more time, I will check it for you," he offered.
"Thank you." I was hoping he was gonna say that. I just didn't know what to do at that point.
As I trudged towards work, a deepening sense of dread seemed to sink further into me. I realised, that if D-man didn't find the spider, there was absolutely, positively, NO WAY I was driving home that day. The chance of a spider being in the car was too much to bare. I couldn't do it. It had to be killed, and I was beginning to realise that I had to see it get killed. There was no other way to guarantee my sanity and sense of certainty.
As I got to work, I was feeling so helpless, and I don't deal with not being in control of a situation too well. That day was another musical chairs day, I could see as I walked in, as my usual spot was being occupied by someone else, and rather I was going to have the spot next to Kitty. Usually I'd get a bit cranky and possessive about not being in my own spot (because I'm fully anal and have OCD) but today I just didn't care.
As I put my bags down, Kitty started to talk to me about some work of mine she had followed up on. She was chatting and going on and on, and I was just staring at her blankly, adding a monotonous "yeah" every so often.
Then I just said it. There was a slight lull in the conversation, and I went "Kitty, I don't know what to do, there's a big spider and I think it's in my car, and I don't know what to do."
A huge deepening sense of sadness washed over me and my throat tightened. I can't remember her reply. I'm sure it was something comforting.
Again I spoke, this time, my words were FLOODED with emotion. "Kitty, I actually CAN'T drive home if I don't see it dead. I just can't. I'm seriously freaking out." The tightness in my throat gave way to a huge ball that I just couldn't swallow, and tears welled in my eyes. My chin was going to start to quiver, I could feel it.
"I'm sorry, I have to gather myself," I said as I practically ran off. As I ran, hand over half my face, I happened past Densley, who in that moment, had seen that he'd missed my call, and also that I was apparently running off crying.
I was in the kitchen, trying to pull myself together, when I realised the most private place was the bathroom. So again off I ran. When I walked in, another woman was already in there, a newbie who had just recently joined our wider department. I mumbled a hello and stumbled into the cubicle.
Guess what? My parusesis was all GONE as I deliberately made myself go, knowing that just sitting in the cubicle would spark some curiosity in the newbie woman. She didn't have to know why I was traumatised, and I already felt totally stupid for crying over a freaking spider. However it seemed Kitty had other plans.
I heard the door open. "Miss S?" Kitty called.
"Yeah?"
"Don't worry about the spider ok? Densley has a vaccuum and he's going to vaccuum it out for you."
"I feel like such a dickhead Kitty."
"Don't worry Miss S he'll get it out."
As I walked out of the cubicle Kitty was already gone. Leaving the newbie, who had heard our discussion, unless she was selectively deaf.
"You're gonna think of me as the bug woman," I started with her. This statement came because of ANOTHER incident (I just attract incidents don't I?) that had occurred a couple weeks before that, where as a group of us went on a break, before opening the door that exits our department, which is also next to the door which leads to the bathroom, as we walked, a moth flew up from the corner, making me scream, the 2 girls with me scream and also funnily enough Densley scream. It was the screaming moth-effect, so to speak, And as this happened newbie woman had walked out of the bathroom ,witnessing our scream fest due to random moth.
So, now in the bathroom, I told her about the spider in my car. And you know what, she was so nice. She's become one of my fave people at work now. She was really comforting, adding that she had once left her car in mid-traffic because of a spider in her car. I felt so much better hearing that. Apparently I wasn't the only freak-spider-incident-attracting person.
I walked out, all regrouped and breathing normal again, and there was Densley, with a mini vaccuum in hand. I felt really touched, yet really stupid for reacting the way I had, especially at work. He on the otherhand, had thought I'd been in a car accident or something, what with the missed call and running off crying, and he'd felt really bad. He'd gotten the vaccuum from someone's work drawer, and now we were ready to do some damage.
Off we went, me in the background looping with "I feel like such a dickhead, really I do. Thank you so much for this...."
D-man thought we were hilarious as he handed me my keys back at the car park. He'd been busy and hadn't had a chance to check on the demon spider. And so we walked to my car. There still reminding me of my horrendous episode was the drivers door, still partly not-quite-closed.
Densley started opening up doors, as I explained where I'd last seen the spider, and watched from a good safe few metres away what was unfolding. He opened the drivers door, then the passengers door, looking inside and around the door every time. I was near the passengers side, when he opened the rear drivers side door.
"It's here, I've got it," was what he said. I couldn't see (I was practically cowering) but he tried to suck it up with the vaccuum.
And then it started to scurry. (Ugh, shudder). It started to run over the car roof and we whipped into action, slamming doors closed so that it couldn't get into the car. As it wondered where to go, Densley at this point said "it's only a baby."
Sorry, a baby? Only a baby? Well if that's a baby I'd like to see what you call a fully grown huntsman. Yuck.
Densley tried to suck it up with the vaccuum, several times, but somehow, and this is the point that confused me, it 'fell' off the car. I say this because at the time Densley said it fell down, and although I felt utterly disappointed because it offered no conclusion for me, he assured me it wasn't in the car. I consoled myself, thinking, 'even if it's on the bottom of the car, it can't get inside.' He seemed to me to be speaking very vaguely, and so I felt somewhat consoled yet still confused.
I felt exhausted getting back to work. I'd just gone through an emotional train wreck, and I wasn't even sure if I was out of the tunnel yet. Upstairs at work having a tea break with my buddies, I stared at my mug of tea, constantly envisaging the demon spider to suddenly appear, crawling out of my tea like something out of a horror movie.
At the end of my shift that day Densley offered to walk me to my car, and check out the interior so that I could drive home feeling more secure. He was hanging back at work for a work function, and I had to run off, meet Hubbie and leave for Mr Wine's uni graduation party that he was having at his place that night.
Densley was awesome. He lifted everything that could be lifted, checked out every nook and cranny in my car, very thoroughly, constantly reassuring me that it couldn't get in the car, IF it was on the car. It was sometime at this point that he said the spider has actually fallen on the ground, in which case he strongly believed it would have crawled off into the adjoining bushes, rather than hang around. I really hoped he was right, also really glad to know he'd seen it fall on the ground. I was so annoying, I asked him to confirm that fact for me, oh, about 6, 7 times.
Nontheless, I drove home, with the windows UP, in the warm car, constantly looking around me.
Hubbie was conveniently outside when I got home, so I sign languaged to him to check for spiders on the roof of the car. Once again my sign language proved futile, and he looked confused despite me yelling through the window, so I tentatively opened the door and quicky explained before I got out.
That night at the party, I told Red everything. I had a good laugh with her about it, we acted slightly like hysterical women do when it comes to spiders, and she told me that yes, that was quite a story. Vaccuum and all.
And so, as the great night ended, and it came close to midnight, Hubbie and I wondered off home. We both had work the next day, and had to get a move on. Being dark outside, my somewhat relaxed disposition in joking about my ordeal to Red had now transgressed to a paranoid cautiousness. In the car we got, and I began to drive, again constantly looking around me through the windows.
We had been driving all but 5 minutes. Not even. I took a path home via some back streets, however they were sort of commonly used back streets. This time of night wasn't too busy though.
I looked at my drivers mirror, and in it I could see the rear window, enveloped by the black night surrounding it. No cars were behind me, so only occasionally was the window lit up by passing streetlamps.
Then I saw something. Weird.
"Is that birdshit?" I asked Hubbie, confused, still driving yet staring at the reflection in my mirror. It looked like odd, random lines across the window, and when I thought about it I could've sworn no birdshit had been there during the day...
Hubbie turned around towards the rear window to look. He didn't say a thing. And in that moment, I knew.
I just pulled over. I barely could, being in the narrow back streets and all, but without looking I stopped the car, then put my indicator on. I was lucky there'd been no one behind me. I looked behind me at the window, and the freaking spider, IT was very quickly scurrying across the window.
"Quick!" I screamed. "Get it, get it!"
Hubbie and I have an unspoken agreement. I give him much love and happiness. He kills any bug I request. It's an agreement that works very well for us. It's never a question of WHO will get rid of any weird thing that comes MY way. He knows his job, his duty to protect me. And he does it well.
"Close the door!" I screeched. Hubbie slammed the door behind him, and I turned around to see the spider scurrying around to the rear passengers window, right where Hubbie was in front of. It was fast.
"Where is it?" he called out from the darkness.
"There!" I screamed wildly, pointing to the rear window in front of him.
He paused. Saw the spider. And went "Faaaaarrrrrrrr."
In a matter of 5 seconds, he took off his shoe, and BANG! Off the window the spider went. To spider heaven.
Meanwhile, about 3 cars had piled up behind me, unable to overtake because of the oncoming traffic. I wondered if the sight of Hubbie with one shoe, other shoe in hand bashing a spider, at 11.30pm in a little back street, would seem weird. I knew if any men in those cars had partners, that it would most likely be a natural occurence for them.
Hubbie came back to the car, and once again, as I'd done with Densley, I bombarded him with the same 2 types of questions about 8 times:
"Is it dead?"
"Yes."
"Was it on the car or on the ground?"
"It was on the ground."
"Are you sure it's not still on your shoe?"
"No I checked it's outside."
"So it's definitely dead?"
"Yes."
"And you're sure it was on the ground, like dead? It couldn't have gotten away."
"No, I got it Miss S."
"And I just have to make sure, it's not still on your shoe? I can't have it in my car Hubbie...."
And so this conversation was repeated, perhaps another 3 times on the short 10 minute drive home.
Boy, had I had a day. What a spider saga. Now it was uncertain to me whether or not the spider that had 'reappeared ' that night on the drive home was the same spider hat had been on my car that morning. I say that because Mr Wine lives in the same area Hubbie used to live, and that area is abundant to THOSE kinds of spiders, as I've had one come to live on my car for a couple of weeks because of parking under a tree there before we were married.
That, combined with hearing a few days later that my bestie Red had gotten a similar surprise of her own, FINDING a yuck spider IN HER CAR, after parking at her man's house, makes me think that it may indeed have been a new spider on my car that night, if even Red got one later on. But, it's too much of a coincidence for me to think that I had a spider on my car that morning, and then another one that night.
I'm calling the morning spider the terminator spider in my spider saga. It came back with a vengeance. It stayed on my car and reappeared to horrify me (yes I know that's not a real word, is it?). And in true terminator style, after its demise, all that remained of its existence was a lone spider leg hanging off my window, like the broken limb rattling on the back of the car in T2. Shudder.
Story 2: (yes my nightmare continues)
About 2 weeks ago I've come home from work to some good news from Hubbie: he has sprayed the entire exterior of the house with insect spray. I was rapt, because with the ascending Spring/Summer weather, I knew there'd be trouble, and I wanted to get the house 'protected' before any incidents occurred.
All was good, all was fine. 'Til that night.
In bed, Hubbie had his eyes closed next to me. I was reading one of my books, and as I went to turn the page, something caught my eye, above me. I looked up.
A freaking, massive, disgusting huntsman (shudder) was in the top corner of our room, above the doorway, near the air con vent. (And as I write, from bed, I can't help but look up and check that the coast is clear).
I don't know if I cried out, or poked Hubbie, but he opened his eyes, and I just pointed to the ceiling.
Once again - "Faaaaarrrrrrr."
At first he didn't know what he was going to try kill it with, 'til I handed him my slipper. I jumped out of bed and stood near the window, as far away from the impending murder scene as possible. As he got closer, the spider scurried closer to the vent. This was very worrysome. We assume that's where it came from, and we didn't want it going back to its hiding spot. Hubbie was now on a mission, he had to get it, before it got away.
From what he said (because I just couldn't look), IT was quick. It took a few thumps, Hubbie jumping towards the ceiling and all, but he got it, leaving a beautiful mess behind. Far out. On the same freaking day Hubbie had acted to repell the house of insects, the biggest and baddest of them all appears, IN OUR BEDROOM of all places. And that's not it. Guess what my big mouth said right after, if only to make things worse:
"Far out. Imagine I wasn't reading, and we had the lights off. We wouldn't have known it was here."
As I said the words, I stopped, frozen. Yes, imagine that horrific scenario. Unknown to us, that thing crawling around the walls of our bedroom around us. And to think, what other times, when the lights were off, was something crawling around in our beddroom....???
I'd actually shot myself in the foot with that comment, that observation. In that moment I was more than terrified, I was petrified, MORTIFIED. It took some coaxing from Hubbie to make me turn my lamp light off, and even then, I edged myself as close as possible to him as we lay there, despite the too-warm night. My eyes frantically searched the walls around me in the darkness, as my eyes grew more and more adjusted to the night. That night, I had constant dreams of crawling huntsmen, and I had such an interrupted nights sleep, waking at least 5 times, each time searching the walls around me with paranoid eyes.
I felt I had lost control.
Why was this happening to me? No, not the spiders as much. I was well aware that by thinking of spiders, even though in fear, I was still attracting their presence to me. Which is hard to avoid when you do think of them in fear. But more, I didn't understand when I had grown sooooooo fearful.
I thought of my entire life history and association with spiders. In my 3rd birthday video, little Miss S says to the camera "spider, yuck," after cutesy-coaxing from my parents in my thoughts of them. This may have come about because of my sisters intense phobia of spiders, hence the discussion of them.
Living with my parents, yes they got spiders, but nowhere near as many, or as disgusting as the ones we got here. Over there there was always daddy-long-legs, and little itty-bitty, bullshit jumping spiders. Sure, occasionally there would be a big one. But that's it, occasionally, not EVERY SINGLE TIME.
I thought of last summer. WOW. There had been soooooo many big huntsmen. Hubbie thought I was calling them out to play when he went to bed, with all my stories of chasing them around with the mortein. And yet, despite their appearances, I chased them. I certainly didn't cower into a little corner and cry.
I remembered my last incident of the summer. The biggest grand-daddy of all mega-huge-huntsmen had appeared one Friday night, and it was a horrible experience. I think it was quite possibly the size of my whole hand. I sprayed it, it went behind the fridge, and I actually had to watch it and wait for it to be in spraying range again before I could try kill it. I was waiting with a torch and all. Then it disappeared under the dishwasher. When I noticed a gap above the dishwasher, that could allow the spider to crawl up and into the adjoining section of cupboards, onto my servingware, pots and pans, I lost my shit. There was no way it's mortein-covered body was gonna spoil my dishes. I ran upstairs, trying to wake Hubbie through my intense sobbing, begging him to come downstairs and kill it for me.
When he moved the dishwasher, and saw IT, apparently all-white covered in Mortein gunk, he says it was practically dead already, it was so loaded with my attack spray. And what did he say when he saw it?
"Faaaaarrrrrr."
He freely admits, it's the biggest spider he's seen in our house, I think even to date. And it remains in our spider history of stories, the Grand-Daddy of spiders.
So I think, after last summers intense onslaught of spider after spider coming into our home, concluding with the biggest mother you've ever seen, I actually became broken from all my experiences, and rather than lifting my metaphorical sword in the air and proclaiming "I will destroy you," I've collapsed into a shell of fear, worry and paranoia. I'm not kidding when I say I do automatic scans of the rooms I enter in the house, ESPECIALLY at night. It's driving me crazy.
I must say, despite the whole agony of this post, being all "woe is me, spiders are out to get me," there is a slight positive note I can end with. Since the recent incident of the thing in our bedroom, we haven't had another appearance, of any kind (I'm not including last nights daddy-long-legs, that spider is so not intimidating). Which I'm slightly terrified to admit, knowing after I post this that I'm walking downstairs to put my computer back in the study, and passing room, after room, after room....
Perhaps that one recent incident was that spider just getting out, that is, the house being purged of all insects after Hubbies spray-a-thon. That sort of makes sense. And makes me happy. And able to breathe. And walk in and out of rooms here, a bit easier.
But what happened to me earlier in the week wasn't so breathe-easy on me. Having a tea break at work, early in the morning, listening to a colleague talk about crab fishing or something like that, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye, towards my lap.
I looked down, and to my intense shock and horror, a MOTH was sitting in my lap. Ugh, Shudder.
I screamed jumping up, in turn not only giving myself a proper wake-up call, but also enlightening my colleagues around me. My scream really started their day.
Geez. When will these bugs ever learn? I don't like them. STAY AWAY.
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