How I lost my fear of spiders and found some self reliance along the way.

I at one point had been so excited for the thrill and freedom of living by myself. I am now however, quickly realizing that the only thrill is having the shit scared out of me by the occasional arachnid and the freedom to realize I’m the only person around to kill it. 

This poses as a real problem for me, considering I have been struggling with severe arachnophobia over the course of my lifetime. 

Or at least it WAS posing as a real problem for me,

A day after moving into my house I had the pleasure of running into a fair sized black widow beside my fridge. This is bad news for anyone with a fear of the eight-legged because now not only does the mother fucker have eight legs, it’s got venom that could kill me.

I contemplated calling my landlord and getting her to deal with it, I contemplated calling a guy friend over to deal with it. I even contemplated calling an exterminator. I could not, though, shake that pressing feeling that if I were to do any one of those things, my family and friends would hang their heads in shame over just how co dependent on others I was.

This brought on a whole new mind set. Ex boyfriend from my previous blog was supposed to help me with all of my moving endeavors. He was supposed to not only help me move, but help me get settled in. He was going to stay the first several nights with me so that I wouldn’t lose my ever lovin’ mind over the thought a burglar might come in and shiv me with a pencil. 

In the end, we broke up and I was left very alone to do all of these things by myself. Trying to get over the idea of a pencil shiv is no tough feat, my friends. And then I got to thinking, hell, if I can get over the idea of a pencil shiv, I can sure as hell kill the god damned spider beside my fridge!

I marched back into my kitchen, just to watch the black widow’s red hourglass disappear behind the appliance.

Well fuck.

I put all thoughts of the little beast aside and went about getting settled into my house. As I was walking through my hallway I saw a much smaller, no where near as threatening spider on the wall. In an act of pure survivalist instinct I grabbed a shoe from the nearest corner and smacked the bitch repeatedly until it left a nice stain upon the paint. I was so impressed with myself that I left it there as a trophy for the next twenty four hours. The next day, I was building my new desk when from under the box popped another eight legged freak. I almost felt bad for this one. I showed it no mercy. I picked up a metal piece from the desk, without thinking and went Rambo style on it’s ass. The killing was so savage, I almost felt as though I should have a proper burial for the little guy to show him a little respect. 

With my new found confidence in killing arachnids, I decided it would be a shame to leave such a dangerous creature behind my fridge. I planned a stakeout. I made some grilled cheese sandwiches and sat down with my laptop, getting comfortable while I waited for the beast. I had all my tools ready; paper towel, fly swatter, hairspray. (I’m not sure if anyone else has realized this before, but hairspray is fabulous for killing insects. Freezes them right up. It’s fucking genius.) As I waited for the black widow to appear, I decided to partake in some research to see what kind of battle I was getting myself into. 

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As I read, I discovered black widows are very timid spiders. They only bite when threatened and apart from that, will remain the their dark damp little home to stay. 

I then started to feel bad for him…or…her. The spider had probably been living here long before I moved in and then I infiltrated his home.

I then realized how batshit crazy I was starting to sound. I spent the last three days either ruthlessly killing, or staking out arachnids. I hadn’t left my home or had any fresh air.

All of the “thrill” and “freedom” of living by myself was starting to intoxicate me and not in the “just-right-amount-of-tipsy-fuck-I-love-vodka” way, but in the ‘holy-shit-word-vomit-I-mixed-my-alcohol-I-love-tequila-and-Britney-Spears-and-I-should-be-best-buds” way. 

I stood up from my kitchen table, ate my last bite of grilled cheese and saluted that spider.

Even men can’t make a woman that crazy. 

I eventually got some fresh air and decided to deal with the black widow behind my fridge. He/she could stay there. Considering how lonely I had been it was nearly comforting to know I wasn’t the only living being in my house. I had to stop myself there, because I knew that if I got on the idea of how many other living beings might be in my home, I’d go even crazier. And that’s just not good for anybody. 

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