When I was a kid I was scared to death of certain bugs. Strangely, I didn’t mind (and in fact played with) a whole other set of bugs. I liked butterflies and lady birds. I played with ants and those little crawlies that curl up into a ball when you touch them (and that I have no idea of their name).
I had fun killing flies at my parents’ home town, a small agricultural village where live animals abounded and therefore flies were all around.
On the other hand I absolutely panicked if I saw spiders, cockroaches (or other crawlies with wings) and moths. The thought of any of these things touching me would be cause for an immediate panic accompanied by an asthma attack.
When I was about 5 we had a family holiday in Rio de Janeiro. My Dad worked for the Portuguese airline and so we had free travelling as a perk. However, there were no guaranteed seats and sometimes we would be on standby right up to the closing of check-in.
When we went to the Rio airport to go back home we couldn’t get on our planned flight and so we had to go back to town. The hotel where we were staying was full and our room was already occupied. They managed to get us a very small room (that was probably not normally used) for us to spend one night.
They brought some sofa beds for my sister and I from storage into the room. When my Mom opened it up, a huge cockroach came crawling out. I screamed and ran to the toilet standing on the toilet seat. I cried buckets and couldn’t calm down. I coughed and had an asthma crisis that whole night.
The phobia I had was basically the fear of these things touching me. I can’t explain why that would send me into a spin. Thinking rationally I am much bigger than them. But I couldn’t help it.
Fast forward a few years (and some very embarrassing and hysterical moments) and I found myself living in South Africa, 25 years of age, by myself for the first time.
I had a very nice granny flat at the back of a large detached house with a great garden. The main house also had a swimming pool which I was free to use. I loved my new place and the thought of being fully independent for the first time was both daunting and exciting.
Until the first bugs started visiting. You see, until that time, there had always been someone on hand to help me out with getting rid of an offender. Now, I was on my own. Through a series of brave interactions with some small creatures I started gaining the confidence to deal with the bugs. Until one day I had a very large visitor.
I feel I need to go into detail because if you can picture it you will probably giggle (as I do when I remember it now). But it was no laughing matter for me at the time. When I woke up there was a large spider parked on the side of my fridge. One of those that when spread out are the size of your hand.
Shouting and crying weren’t going to solve the problem. Running wouldn’t either because I knew that I would not be able to sleep later when I came home and didn’t know where it had gone. So I decided to act. I sat on my kitchen counter (in my pyjamas) and clubbed the poor thing with a broom, golf swing style.
When it fell on the floor I sprayed what was probably half the can of insecticide on it (before you are horrified of my actions I should point out that I don’t kill bugs anymore. Now I get them with a glass and throw them outside).
I felt like a million dollars. As if I had a battle against a dragon and won. I was that proud of myself.
Now you may be wondering what any of this has to do with Motherhood. Basically after that episode there have been many other moments where I’ve encountered my least favourite friends. Sometimes I’ve dealt with them (mostly when I didn’t have anyone else that could help), others I have ignored them (when small enough). But the important part is that I got my horrible panic under control and I can stay calm in the situation.
This was an important achievement for me personally (because I avoid some embarrassing situations) and for my children. I didn’t want them to grow up with an inherited fear from me. I didn’t want them to be frightened of something that in reality can’t hurt them, just because I was. So I do my best to deal with, or ignore, the little beasts these days.
And I think that this relates to a lot of other things in life. We are all children inside. I think that even when we’re old, we are just old kids. And, at least for me, I think most of the time, it’s external situations and factors that push us to grow.
Having kids is one such thing. All of a sudden you can no longer act in the same irresponsible ways you once did, you can’t freak out, you can no longer live carelessly… You have little people that look up to you, depend on you, and all of a sudden you find yourself having enough motivation to become better, to become more self-sufficient, to become more grown up.
And so the journey of growing up continues… for me, and for them.