Does whatever a spider can

Tuesday, October 29, 2013

I have arachnophobia.

I don't just dislike spiders like normal people do. I'm not just afraid of spiders. It's extreme and irrational.

Despite knowing this, it only enables me to laugh while simultaneously veering on the edge of heart attack.

I have previously posted about spiders here and here.

Now this particular story I'm about to share was foreshadowed by my sister texting me last week telling me about a spider incident in the car and knowing that of anyone, I would be able to appreciate that it scared her. I assured her I most definitely knew how she felt and would have reacted worse.

And thus sets the stage for yesterday's "adventures"

I am participating in a study with Tucker, so I'm heading to my appointment at 1 pm and of course am running a few minutes late (I dare you to get anywhere on time with a newborn... and then please call me and clue me in on how to do this).

I'm about halfway there driving on a two lane back road when a spider crawls on the inside of my windshield right in front of my line of vision. It's about as big as a quarter (Cary says I can't be trusted on size, so read: size of a nickel) and immediately my heart starts racing as the panic attack sets in and my brain is screaming "you're trapped! you're trapped with it about 6 inches aways from you!!! (I'm short ok--I'm pretty close to the windshield).

I veer off the road and precede to jump out of the car. My heart is pounding and I give myself a minute to come up with an attack plan (you'd think it was an episode of the walking dead the way I have to prepare myself for attack). As I look back in the car, shoe poised and ready for the smush, I can't find it.

Now the real panic sets in. My skin is crawling and I'm terrified to get back in the car with that thing lerking anywhere with the advantage of a surprise attack. I call Cary and proceed to cry as I explain my dilemma (now 10 minutes late to my appointment) that I can't get back in the car, but I have to get to my appointment. Oh and this is all just on the side of the road and Tucker is screaming his head off in the carseat--yes, I left my child in the car with the spider while I had a panic attack. Go ahead pile on the mommy guilt. I'm already painfully aware I might not be able to save my own child if a spider were to attack. (Oh and nevermind that no one stopped to ask if everything was ok... better to keep driving past the hysterical girl crying with her vehicle haphazardly pulled off the road, door ajar, and baby in the back.)

Anyhow, Cary finally talks a shred of reason into my brain, that I must get in the car and get to my appointment, so fearfully I get in and continue driving while Cary talks me through the rest of the drive and my eyes nervously dart from corner to corner with the utmost paranoia. (Poor guy probably answered the phone and immediately thought I'd been in an accident, he assured me it only took a few seconds to guess it was just a spider).

I make it to the appointment and jump out of that car and grab Tucker as fast as humanly possible.

Fast forward to the end of the appointment. I now have to drive home.

Well, I know the spider is still in the car so I'm in a bit of a bind. As my heart rate slowly starts to creep up, I pull my boots up by the straps and cautiously enter the car with a nervous sweep of the eyes and attempt to convince myself the spider obviously died during the appointment in the "hot" car (It only got up to 68 degrees yesterday).

About 2 minutes into the drive, Tucker is already screaming (not a fan of the car that one) I decide it would be safest to swing by Cary's building and have him check the car for me.

Well, Cary checks the car and no spider.

I thank him and skeptically get back in the car and start to drive home--Tucker is of course very hungry and very mad at this point.

We barely make it to the edge of campus when the sun shining in my eyes, I pull down the visor and to my horror the spider crawls out of his hiding spot right in front of me. BAHHHH. I veer off the road onto a side street and jump out of the vehicle (yeah, it's still running, middle of the road, blocking a driveway, baby screaming inside) pull out my phone and through tears tell cary he missed the spider!

Well this post is now WAYYYYY too long, so all you need to know is I couldn't get back in that car except to pull Tucker out, and after exclaiming I would have to walk home (still 6 miles), Cary talked the slightest bit of sense into me. The car stayed in the middle of the street until Cary could come save me (20 minutes later) and I waited and rocked my baby to sleep on the side of the street. (Again, despite lots of people passing by on foot, bike and car no one stopped to ask what the heck I was doing... ahh fellow southerners, you disappointed me last night).

Of course, my dilemma is the spider is still in the car. I know it and he knows it.

So, logically, I won't be driving anywhere anytime soon.

Feel free to visit me and the kiddos at the apartment... I'm sure we'll get bored without transportation. Or if you're interested in trading vehicles hit me up, I'm willing to drive anything spider free :)


Kaley said...

Carla, this is crazy! I'm saying this in a completely non-judgmental way, because I can see you're genuinely upset. To be honest, I would totally judge you for this irrational behavior except that based on your description, I am completely overwhelmed and shocked by how intense your phobia is! I can't imagine how frustrating that must be for you to have that much emotion attached to something so small. I'm glad you have Cary to reassure and protect you! Good think you don't live in a basement apartment!

Whitney B. said...

Bless your heart and that sweet baby boy! I can't believe nobody came up to you when you are sitting on the side of the road with a baby, I mean REALLY?! that's awful!

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