Yesterday we talked about how writing on this blog scares the bejeebus out of me. My logical side knows it doesn’t make sense, but try telling that to my emotional side.
So, to understand why I am so stinkin’ afraid of ERRVERYTHING, we have to go back aways.
When I was a teenager, I was bold. Brazen. The kind of girl that is marching to the beat of her own drummer. I didn’t get bullied because I was outspoken. I was content and confident with who I was.
I can’t pinpoint when the fear started to creep in, but it was definitely prevalent when my son was born. We lived in a neighborhood where dogs were left outside All. The. Time. Is it negative 20 degrees and snowing? Doesn’t matter, dogs are outside. These dogs would walk over an inch deep layer of their own dried out feces. Their basic needs of food and water were covered, but the needs for shelter and love were not.
As a result, these dogs were pissed. And aggressive.
On a few walks through the neighborhood with my newborn son strapped to my chest, loose dogs wandering around would see me from blocks away and come darting at top speed towards me. Sometimes they were friendly — albeit overly nosey. But other times they would bark, sneer, growl and follow me about 10 feet behind until I left “their territory.”
It was scary. On one instance, two dogs came bolting across the street when I was pushing my son in his stroller. (I had already had an altercation with these two dogs where I yelled “NO!” and they stopped before running halfway across the road.) The one was super friendly…but the other was aggressive. He bared his teeth, growled at me, and tried to run around to the other side of the stroller.
I spun the stroller around, always putting myself in between the stroller and the dog. With my most authoritative voice, I screamed something like “No! Back off!” The dog continued to pursue the stroller. Spinning, I screamed again. The dog continued.
At this point, I’m starting to lose it. I move myself and the stroller into the street (residential 25mph, with long range visibility) hoping that cars will stop and help me or that the cars will scare away the dogs. I’m screaming and almost on the verge of having a mental breakdown because this dog will just not leave us alone.
I start to consider what I can do to fight the dog, maybe I even picked up a stick to contemplate how to beat this dog.
Let me take a moment to clarify that I’m not straight up scared of all dogs. (We have two slobbery, furry and loving dogs who are always excited when I come home and find simple household chores fascinating. It’s awesome.)
So the thought of hitting, kicking, beating a dog?!? This is literally my worst nightmare. How can I hurt a dog? What will my family think? Will I go to jail? What diseases will I get if I get bit? But if I don’t fight back…he could kill my baby. Literally, it is not hard for a dog to kill a human baby, even when the dog is seen as non-agressive.
Anticlimactic as many stories in life are, I eventually spun far enough away from “their” house that they gave up, got bored and ran back home.
What I am afraid of is a situation where I lose control. (Maybe that’s a subject for a whole nother blog post.) I don’t like not being able to control what happens in my life and not knowing what will happen.
So, let’s cut it here and tomorrow we’ll talk about control issues.