Tabulation of Terror

Fears are a normal part of growing up. We all had those panic inducing phobias that sent us crying for our mommies and daddies.  For many of us it was the monsters under the bed and in the closet. For others it was the ghost in the wall that sounded a lot like your big brother. Whatever they were, they made grown-ups giggle and smirk as they assured us that the world was not as ghastly as we thought.  Though we doubted adult assertions of safety, we eventually overcame these terrifying beliefs. One by one those monsters got smaller, and eventually moved out of our rooms...except when they didn't. 

Here's a list of irrational fears I have that carried over from my childhood.

Mirrors in the dark
Don't act like you don't understand this one. We all played Bloody Mary, and it was terrifying. Problem is, I took it to the extreme. In my mind, that chick wasn't waiting around for the triple utterance of her name, she was just going to appear Hogwarts-style, any old time she felt like it. Still might! That thought freaks me out to this day. Seriously, I may be the only adult woman in the country who, when faced with entering a dark bathroom, will close her eyes and blindly grope along the wall until I hear the light switch click. I'm just not ready to die that way y'all.

Toilets - Pardon the pun, but this shit is scary 

Just like everyone else, I spent the first few years of life not having to deal with my own crap. It was glorious. I simply did my business and someone always cleaned it up. Then suddenly that was over, and I was forced to suspend myself over a cold bowl full of water that roared when I was done. Sure, that could have been the sound of a flush, but it was probably more likely a flesh-eating monster angry about his missed meal. Maybe that sounds crazy, but consider all those stories about rabies-infested rats living in the sewers, climbing up pipes, and biting people on the butt. Now you want me to yank my pants down and sit on that thing?! Suddenly, constipation doesn't sound so bad does it?

Don't trust that smile.

Ernest P. Worrell
Some said his idiocy was amusing, but, I see who he really is. This mastermind unleashed an army of child-stealing trolls on helpless townsfolk! So, of course he petrified me. The trolls looked like the thing I imagined devouring me from within the toilet after I escaped Blood Mary's resurrection. Though my friends loved him, I would leave the minute anyone even mentioned this unnerving simpleton. As with any avoided fear, I never really got over it. Even still, the mere thought of him makes my spine curl. I mean, look at him. He's petrifying!




Rats/Mice
In my youth, a friend forced me to hold Speedy, her pet rat. I stood stupefied as his beady eyes pierced mine. His tiny razor claws scratched my sweaty palms. Then, he deliberately whacked my arm with his thorny worm-like tail. Naturally, I screamed and released my grasp. I had to protect myself from such a vicious threat. Oddly, my friend didn't understand my reaction to this onslaught, and she spent the rest of the day berating me for it. Ever since, I've been convinced that all rats are demon-spawn. I still make Homeric expeditions around pet stories to avoid the rodent section. Go ahead and say this is irrational if you want, but I say you're irrational. They crawl out of toilets and chomp peoples' junk for god's sake! That's clearly evidence of their evil. 

Whining

Image found here

Though I do not do it often, I think there is something to be said for a plaintive cry and a grumbling stomp or two. After all, there's a reason that kids do it.

Children have many tasks to achieve as they grow and develop. They need to absorb their cultural expectations, acquire the appropriate languages, and learn the rules of social interactions. They need to simultaneously figure out who they are and begin to understand the world as they perceive it. It's not easy work, and it results in a lot of struggles and setbacks.

As many of us have observed, these disappointments frequently result in outbursts. Kids get upset. They become distressed with other people, their circumstances, and themselves. When this happens, it interrupts the learning process. Being agitated fogs up the mind; making it difficult to process surrounding information. For this reason, one of the principle tasks of growing up is learning to calm oneself. Initially, when kids self-soothe it's not so pretty. Sometimes they tantrum, but often they whine. And why do they whine? Because it helps.

No. Whining doesn't solve problems. It's irritating and hard to listen to. Frankly, it's an annoying behavior that repels most people, but the whining isn't really for other people is it? It's a personal expression that serves the whiner more than anyone else.

Obviously, whining communicates. It tells those around them when a child is frustrated, overwhelmed, or discouraged. It places a sound to a feeling they have yet to identify, and allows them to begin expressing their concerns. But, it's so much more than that.

Whining is cathartic. It's a release of negative emotions that, if held in, would make the difficult work of children even harder. It gives them a chance to let go of disappointments in a physically tangible way. This is important, because once they let go of their unpleasant reactions kids can finally begin to move on.

As we grow up, we learn better, more mature mechanisms for deescalating and pacifying ourselves. The majority of us completely eradicate tantrums from our behavioral repertoire. We start to see whining for it's unpleasantness, and make every effort to rise above this innate reactivity. On the whole, that's a positive example of adaptation. However, it is notable that very few of us are able to cease whining entirely. Personally, I think this is because whining continues to serve an unidentified purpose. I try and acknowledge that whenever possible, and sporadically practice controlled whining as a tool for coping.

Misunderstandings

Image found here

I had some rather comical misunderstandings about the world as a child. These moments ranged from private fears I was too worried to ask about, to embarrassingly public declarations of misinterpretations I was confident were true. As I grew older and began to navigate the world in a semi-independent manner, I had a lot of these. Elementary school in particular was rather rough for me.

For instance, I remember being secretly terrified that my father was serious when he warned me that eating handfuls of dried oatmeal would cause an undigestable pit in my gut that I'd need surgery to remove. I mean, the man was a doctor! Who was I to question this logic? Of course it was frightening. Especially when you consider that he always told me surgery should be avoided at all costs. My slightly portly belly was obviously proof that I had been snacking on potential death.

Another time I was playing in our basement (a dream for any hoarder of the medical supply and sporting enthusiast type), and I stumbled upon my brother's athletic cup.
    Yup. I thought it was a breathing apparatus. Naturally, I began to play with it. This isn't so strange when you think about it. I was welcome to play with most of the other medical supplies. I couldn't tell you how many times I used a stethoscope or made balloon animals out of medical gloves as a child.
    So, there I was, running around with my yucky brother's crotch protection on my face pretending it was a mask. I discovered it's real purpose when I ran up to my brother and, in a breathy voice, declared myself to be his father. I thought I was so clever. Being a typical teasing brother, he ridiculed me extensively. Imagine a recently amputated Anakin Skywalker's expression, and you've got my reaction.

Perhaps my most distressing blunder was the insolated blanket confusion. While preparing one of those yearly survival kits for school with my mother, I started giggling at the idea of an upset blanket. "What's an insulted blanket?" I asked with mixed humor and confusion. Oh boy! That was the wrong question to ask in this particular crowd. See, in my family you don't get to just skate by with a question like that going unnoticed. We are a sarcastic bunch, and we show affection through mockery. So, let me just say: I got a lot of love that night. .

At the time, these experiences were all stressful. The associated embarrassment is no doubt the foundation of my neurotic ways. Luckily though I'm human, and I have the inherent ability to grow and move past this shaming history of hilarity. My current vantage point affords me the ability to fondly look upon these memories as my own battle scars of a normal development process.

See, being a kid is sort of like starting a new job. There you are, in a new environment trying to learn what you are supposed to do and how to do it all. Acutely aware of your lack of knowledge about this place, you feel free to ask more questions than those around you. However, at times you are forced to take a leap and guess. Sometimes you're right and your supervisors are impressed, but frequently you are wrong. You may occasionally receive the somewhat condescending chuckle of someone who knows all to well what you're going through, but mostly people cut you some slack. You are, after all, new here.

I Must Not Tell Lies

I don't believe in good and bad.

Image found here

There is goodness and badness, but I don't believe the two qualities exist in vacuums independent from one another. I think that is too black and white for this confusing world of grey. It seems fairly obvious to me that the two are interconnected. So many of the bad behaviors in this world are informed by good things.

Traits like conviction, passion, strength, and love are widely believed to be positive attributes. However these qualities, and others like them, can takeover a person's whole world. They can become powerful enough to influence terrible actions.

Many people find it easy to holistically declare a person malevolent based on what they have done, but for me it's not so simple. I see people for their morals, values, and conduct. I'm hesitant to speak to the motives of another when they have not been explicitly shared with me, and I'm skeptical about the existence of pure evil in this world.

Falling

Image from Batman Begins. Found here

I'm supposed to write a blog today. It's Monday. That means I have to muse, but it's just not happening. While I have numerous musings knocking around in my noggin, none of them are coherent enough to share. I have tried to force some eloquent bit of wonder out for all of you to read, but I'm struck at the fried blankness that is my overstressed mind.

It's been the kind of perspective-commanding rough day that puts my recent "bad days" to shame. Today I was reminded that I have no real experience with suffering. It's a balanced world, and my lack of suffering implies that others have no experience with safety, security, or success. Additionally, I learned that sometimes, there's nothing that can be done for these people. Sometimes limits must be set and lines must be drawn. The high volume of compassion that pours out of my bleeding heart made that last lesson exceptionally hard to swallow, and I suspect it will continue throughout my career.

Frankly, I was rather dumbstruck by both of these lessons when I sat down to produce my Monday Musings this evening. I wasn't sure what to make of these recent experiences, and I couldn't focus on writing a profound or entertaining essay. That is, until my wild little kitten had one of her eccentric adventures.

While she is relatively new to my life, I have already grown accustomed to her sudden bursts of energy and cacophonous surprises. So, when a clutter of clanking noises came from the blinds to my right, I barely even reacted. Slowly, I paused my blank stare and unproductive editing to investigate. This is when I found the curious cat bridging the gap between my propped-up bike and the window sill it leaned against. Closed blinds were no barrier for this daredevil. She awkwardly pushed her way through the metal slates, and then set forth on a rock-climbing-like expedition up the window screen. Nearly two feet up from the base, she dangled helplessly and cried out with a desperate tone.

"Should I go help her?" I thought to myself. I carefully surveyed the situation. Though she was likely to fall, she probably wouldn't drop far and her odds of injury were minimal (if they existed at all). So, I watched patiently to see how she was going to handle this predicament.

Sure enough, she couldn't hang on long. My little feline friend dropped down to the window sill, and subsequently slipped off the ledge. Luckily, she was able to exercise her cat reflexes, and caught the pane at the last minute. As she managed to pull herself back up to her precarious perch, I reminded myself of something I frequently remind others.

That's how they learn.

With that, I remembered that you can't help everybody all the time. Sometimes this is because you lack sufficient time, resources, or energy to give the support you want. Other times, people aren't ready to get your help. They may think they are ready and willing to change. However,  numerous signs that you just aren't reaching them will make you think otherwise. This is when it is important to remember that a little failure can be a good thing. It's not pleasant, but sometimes people have to fall before they can get themselves back up.

So, thank you Schrödinger the kitten for giving me some much needed perspective.

Inquisitive little kitten dismounted by balancing on my top-tube.