Fear Itself

Sometimes I think it would be easier to make a list of things that I'm not afraid of.  That way when someone expresses surprise over an irrational and incredibly stupid sounding fear (ex: Slime mold.  No, really.  I don't know why, it's just creepy.) I can just give them a list of things we can discuss that won't give me the full body heebie jeebies.

A lot of my fears can be easily summed up by 'I'm afraid of the dark.'  There's more to it than that, I mean, the general 'dark' is pants-wetting enough but my overactive lizard brain just can't stop there.  Dark windows I can't see out of, half opened doors where a ninja-rapist and/ or cucuy could hide behind, mirrors and other reflective surfaces in dark rooms (though mirrors are creepy all by themselves) under the bed, attics, basements, outdoors at night (I hate taking out the trash by myself.  The zombie-pocalypse might have started and my perfectly lovely next door neighbors might now have an overwhelming urge to eat the flesh from my bones) especially near bodies of water because of La Llorona.... Well, like I said: I'm afraid of everything.

Even something as supposedly relaxing as a hot shower.  Because I'm alone and vulnerable and only have a loofah and a ladies' razor for protection from ninja-rapists and/or cucuy.  There have been too many times when I've tried to console myself with escape plans consisting of 'hit him with the jumbo sized conditioner bottle and run.'  As far as escape plans go that's far from comforting.

I was taking a shower tonight and things were going normally:

And then the power when out:

The fight or flight instinct hit pretty hard at this point.  I turned off the shower so I could hear my impending doom and opened the shower door forcefully with the idea of knocking back the ninja-rapist and/or cucuy that was out there so I could run for it.  I hadn't figured out how I was going to find someplace safe and well-lit yet, but that's neither here nor there.

Fortunately, I had a rare moment of dignity saving bravado so when the lights came back on I wasn't curled into the fetal position naked and soapy.

The Boyfriend is aware of my pathological fear of everything and was coming to rescue me with a flashlight.  I had managed to play it cool by dropping the back brush, but proceeded to show exactly how much I was still losing my mind (if the hyperventilating didn't tip him off) by stomping off to find a lighter and lighting all the candles I could find in the bathroom.  That way I could get the conditioner out of my hair with at least some light if the power went out again.

I wonder how long I can stand myself before I absolutely have to take a shower again.  We're about to find out.

When the Boyfriend realized that I was illustrating my trauma he decided that he wanted to play too:

We don't think alike at all.