This post isn’t about booze. It’s about a spider.
I was at the kitchen counter, typing my blog for today, when I looked up and saw this dude. (Excuse the poor quality photo. I was too scared to get close enough to take a better one.)
Since James is out drumming tonight, I left it where it was and continued typing my blog – about a rather inspiring book I’m reading right now, The Power of Vulnerability by Brene Brown.
As I typed, I thought about my story and how I have come to view my identity over the years and I thought, “hang on, your identity is just a story you tell yourself…and so is the story about being afraid of spiders.”
I’ll spare you the rest of the internal dialogue but effectively it ended with me deciding that the perfect way to prove any story can be over-written was to deal with the spider.
It took me a little while to work up the courage – and I chickened out a couple of times before I finally did it but…
The spider is happily back in the garden and I am typing this. I’d probably feel more like a badass if I didn’t have that constant feeling of it crawling on me, but still.
In the moment when it counted, I overrode my fear story and did what needed to be done (and I’ll finish the Brene Brown post tomorrow.)