I THOUGHT I WAS GETTING BETTER
I've been working on it, I really have! I've made myself face my greatest fear, reading about it, looking at pictures, insisting I was getting better. In case you haven't figured it out, I'm terrified of spiders. That's right, my name is Colleen and I'm an aracnaphobic.
I knew I needed to do something about it when I let my one year old and three year old kill a big wolf spider for me with butter knives, chopping the thing to mush in the corner back about 1976. What if it had been a black widow (not in Indiana) or a brown recluse? Here I was cowering in the corner letting my CHILDREN protect me. I'm ashamed to admit it. So I started working on it. But no amount of information made a spider anything other than a bloodsucking horror. Still, I've been able to kill them (small ones) and thought I was making progress.
Then I was faced with a test tonight. Did I rush to protect my darling husband of 35 years (our anniversary is the 30th) with weapons raised and guns blasting?
Um no. One of those fuzzy black horrors with the red dot on its back (the kind that plopped onto by bed when I was a teenager and LEAPED at me if you're reading this, Mother) was on Dave's shirt. I screamed, cowered back, barely able to utter, "There's a spider on your shirt!" Dave slapped at it with his hand and knocked it to the floor. Dead, I was relieved to see.
If I could have gotten out of the car while it was moving at 60 miles an hour, I would have. If it had been on me, I would have wrecked the van for sure.
So no, my belief that I've gotten over my phobia is all a sham. I've deceived myself. It's a shocking turn of events. I'm going to have to work on it harder.
But if you hear a scream, you'll know I expired in the working out of this problem. And no, Brandilyn, I haven't read Web of Lies yet. My heart might not be able to take it. But it might be good therapy, hmm?