Learning To Live With Bugs

It’s been no shy fact of mine that I have a pretty almost irrational fear of insects. Of the flying variety, the crawling variety. My fear and paranoia knew of no limits.

I recently moved into my first apartment. And living on my own so far has been a wonderful challenge. I keep a clean house because I’m already aware that these things bother me. Creatures of a poorly kept house can be avoided. Or so I thought.

Apparently, to a certain extent, they are just a part of life. And all manners of creatures for that matter. The ones we frown upon and the ones viewed as less of a threat.

Recently I came across a roach. A single one and very small. The whole of me froze in protest. How dare such a thing be in my home? I killed it and sprayed enough pesticide in my tiny apartment to kill off a fleet of the tiny crawling bastards. But I was left feeling scared.I was left ultimately paralyzed emotionally by this encounter.

Logic and the collective poking fun of by friends led me to a startling conclusion that made me question my own fear of these things. “I’m bigger than them, what is there to be afraid of?”

In a moment of soul searching, I came to this conclusion:

The roach somehow was a moral failing. It somehow reflected that, in whatever way, I did not keep a clean enough or presentable house. It was an invader.

Though I fought off the invasion as if to defend against a horde of knights, I will keep this perspective in mind. Sometimes, we just have to live life with things outside of our realm of control.

This encounter did not make me any less a person, nor did it somehow reflect something greater than it was. But what I learned was so much more. I guess in a way, I’m almost grateful.

Almost.

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Amanda.Actually

I'm just your everyday girl with a keen eye for what's really happening. Be prepared for wit, humor and Dr. Who references. Loves include anime, writing, eating sweets, art and visits to the park to feed the ducks.

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