Fear is like a lost spider

In the last couple of weeks my husband and I came to the conclusion that we have to stay in Illinois for another year. Don't worry, it's for a good reason--he's getting promoted! In fact, he's getting one promotion in about 2 weeks, and they want to give him another by the end of July. We're hoping that by December he'll be the GM Apprentice (I know, fancy, huh?). Things are looking up in that regard.

However, with the need to stay, also comes the realization that we will be staying in this apartment. We could move, yes. But nothing else is affordable, since we now have the dog. It's also more beneficial to just stay here and not pay for a moving truck, etc. In general, I'm pretty content living here. The neighbor upstairs is nice (when his girlfriend isn't yelling at him) and the neighbors to our left are nice (even with a crying baby) and the people to our right are probably awesome because A. the lady is in the military and always says hello and B. the guy plays the guitar and I spend my mornings trying to figure out what song he's practicing.

We live on the ground floor, so there's no one under us to bother or worry about. According to this blog from Apartment Therapy, living on the ground floor is glorious and peaceful and sort of pretentious. (Leads into a garden. Ha. I've got a runoff pond and geese, does that count?) But according to this other blog my apartment is also a dangerous place to live, and I should be wary and afraid of pretty much everything, and consult my local crime prevention officer.

While they suggest I buy a safe for all my furs and expensive jewelry, my only real complaint about living on the ground floor is the amount of creatures that inhabit my walls. That's right, I'm talking about spiders. 

About a year ago when we first moved in, I encountered at least two spiders every day. They were not small. They were usually nickel-sized. One was literally (and I promise I'm not exaggerating) the size of my palm, and lived in the bathroom for two days. That was July. We're not quite in July yet, or that intense heat, but I'm already starting to find a spider or bug on a daily basis. If you know me, then you understand my fear of spiders. If you don't know me, I'm sure you know SOMEONE who gets chills just thinking about them. When I have to kill a spider my entire body gets goosebumps and I angrily attack it, sometimes with shrieking and flailing, in order to scare the crap out of the little bug before I end its life. 

Small spiders are easily dealt with, if I act in the manners mentioned above. It's the big ones, or the high-up ones, that give me seizures of panic. When I find a spider I can't immediately vanquish, I call my husband in, and he smacks it with his shoe. (Thus, our walls are covered with size-12 shoe prints.) But the worst thing, the very worst and most horrible circumstance, is when I am home alone and I find a gargantuan spider I can't reach and then it DISAPPEARS. 

Then I have a problem. Because on one hand, I'm glad it's gone. But on the other hand, now it could be anywhere, and might jump out at me. (A spider once crawled out of my computer while I was typing. I almost died.) A lost spider is the pinnacle of fear because now there is anticipation, now there is fearful and anxious waiting for the spider to reappear, only to cause you more fear at its return.

And that, my friends, is the point I really want to drive home. Fear is like this in all its forms. Whatever you're afraid of, you hate to see it. But if it leaves without explanation, it takes a certain strength not to be afraid of its return. It takes willpower to not be in perpetual anxiety that the thing you most fear will suddenly reappear. You have to learn not to wait for it, not to expect it around every corner or underneath the space bar or shift key. 

I lost a spider this morning. It was there all day yesterday, and now it's gone. It was above my desk. In the past I probably would have avoided my desk all day in order to stay away from the beast. Instead, I chose to organize my desk, and write a blog, and hope that if that sucker appears I have something handy to smack him with. But I'm not waiting for it. Honestly, I hope it just went back outside. I don't feel like being afraid of it today.

Like spiders, I was afraid, for a long time, that my husband would never find a job that's worthwhile. I feared we would be stuck in Illinois for an undetermined amount of time and he would move from job to job, and we would be miserable. But that's not the way it's happening. In fact, quite the opposite. I can't begin to tell you how wonderful it is that he goes to work, has a good day, and has mostly good things to say when he's done. He works with people who support him and believe in him. Sure, things could go sour. Nothing is permanent. People can change. But I don't have to sit here and worry that it's too good to be true.

When the thing you fear is gone, just let it go.