What’s in the Box?

Just as I was beginning to think that my arachnophobia was getting better, life had to serve me a big slice of humble pie…

I was at work (Pizza Hut), busy cutting pizzas that were to go to a high school for lunch. I’m barely cutting them faster than they’re spilling out of the oven. After they’re cut I need to slide them in their boxes and get those boxes into delivery bags. I’m on a good streak. I’ve got a good flow going, then it happened.

I flung open a box and as I was sliding a pizza inside my absolute most hated arachnid, the Daddy Longlegs, lost it’s absolute shit and scurried around the box! I screamed bloody murder (and may or may not have peed myself… [I did, but just a little]) and my boss and the new trainee I was training came running. I was pressed against a refrigeration unit just opposite the box when my boss came in. I made a lot of hand gestures and squealing and my boss looked at me as if I were having a seizure. Finally I managed to clearly say, “SPIDER IN THE FUCKING BOX!” Tactful, I know. My boss inspected, found the spider, then proceeded to GRAB IT WITH HIS HAND and kill it. He took a step towards me, to make sure I was ok, and I acted no better than the eight-legged little shit that freaked out on me. I ran away from him with the absolute fear of God gripping my chest.

That’s when I realized I kinda peed a little. We were all laughing, yes, even me because I knew just how ridiculous I was being, but y’all need to understand something; when I see someone has touched a spider with their bare flesh my brain reacts as if that person is now infected with a zombie-spider virus and if they touch me I will also be infected. I know, trust me I know, just how ridiculous that is, but in the moment I am not governed by logic.

It took my boss a couple minutes to reassure me the thing was dead and all was well. We threw away the pizza and I now had an oven on the brink of backing up. My trainee was watching me and noted that I jumped a little every time I opened a box.

I now walk among you, more humble than I was this morning and I will not underestimate the depravity of those eight-legged nightmares every again.

Nothing is sacred.

Nothing.

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I Think I’m Finally Figuring It Out

A baby step in the grand scheme of things, but a step in the right direction. 

I don’t handle rejection/disappointment well. In fact I tend to avoid doing things because there’s always that possibility. It’s no way to live life, let me tell you.

Recently I had to deal with crushing disappointment. More than once, but one stood out above all others. I was supposed to go out with my best friend and her coworker/friend, I really needed that night to happen for several reasons, but her husband requested her presence at a function his coworker was having and she has a duty to her husband (plus he almost never goes to social events that aren’t her planning so this is a rare occurance thus strengthening her sense of duty to him). I understood and was not mad at her or even her husband, I was just mad at the situation and very disappointed. 

I was hurt, but I began making inappropriate jokes (she totally fueled them). It started as a mask to hide my hurt, but it turned into something rather cathartic for me. I vented my frustrations through humor rather than lashing out (which is usually my first instinct when I’m hurt) and it totally worked. By time our conversation ended I felt better and had a rather enjoyable evening with my husband.

Humor doesn’t have to be a mask, it can be a release. A coping mechanism. Laughter is wonderful medicine. 

I’m not able to afford professional treatment or medication. I’m forced to find alternative ways to keep myself sane. I’m prone to choosing harmful and unhealthy ways, but this time I feel like I’ve finally gotten something right.