It’s time again for the Wednesday Weekly Blogging Challenge hosted by Long and Short Reviews.
Today’s topic is: Things That Scare Me
This list today could be long and varied. I have a ridiculously vivid imagination and am a natural born worrier, so I spend a lot of my life moderately anxious.
The usual things don’t frighten me. I’m not afraid of snakes or spiders or bats or rats. I will and have handled all those things barehanded (except the bats … largely because wild ones could carry rabies). My SIL was helping us stack wood once, and we came across a garter snake. She was terrified and refused to come near the pile of wood again. And it got me to thinking: what am I scared of enough that I’m virtually incapacitated.
And I couldn’t think of a thing. I’m not a huge fan of yellow jackets, but when you’re working with fresh cut wood, they tend to swarm the area, so you just take a deep breath and deal with it.
That said… there is one thing that terrifies me more than any other. There was a time, years ago, when my BIL was living with us for a couple of months while waiting to get his pregnant wife moved to the area. I’d only just had my kid (she was about a year or so old) and he asked me, “What’s it like being a parent?”
My response? “You’re low key afraid all the time.”
And it was true. At least for me. Always, in the back of my mind, is the abject terror that something will happen to my kid. And, I have to say, I don’t know how parents survive the loss of a child. I’m not a nurturing person. I’m not even a big fan of children. I wasn’t sure I’d ever have any, and ended up only have the one (which is enough, since she’s just awesome). But there isn’t a thing I wouldn’t do for her. And when you hear people say “I’d throw myself in front of a bullet for her.” it’s true. I would, without hesitation. I don’t think I could survive losing her.
So, what am I afraid of? That. Everything is just background noise.