So once upon a time someone told me that if you talk about the dark things in your life it makes it easier to deal with them.  Not sure if that's true, but I'm going to blog about my silly, irrational fears.

Ready to laugh at me?  Good.  Because don't you dare do it to my face!  Okay, you probably could but I'd feel silly and probably say something dumb.

The thing that's always been hard for me to do is going to sleep.  Why?  Because growing up traveling I shared a bed with my mother.  That was security.  I knew that if anything happened she was right there and could protect me.  When she stopped performing and we had a 'normal' life we lived in a log cabin in the middle of nowhere.  Do you have any idea how freaky that is when your imagination runs wild?  I have always needed an hour to talk myself into sleeping.  It's gotten worse living alone because I lay in bed and watch the way the shadows play on the windows for a while until I'm satisfied they're normal.  I'll lay a certain way for a while and make sure the light from my laptop screen isn't messed up - as in, no one's come out of the washer closet and is creeping around my apartment.  Then there's the really irrational things that my mind processes before I go to sleep; like things that could be in my closet or have been crammed under my very low bed.

Are these things irrational?  Yes.  I know they are.  It makes no sense for someone to break into my apartment.  I live surrounded by people, there's not much of a reason to break into my apartment unless you want at my books.

Also, I think part of the reason I have the irrational fear of someone being outside of my bedroom window is that it's happened before.  When I was in high school, a person who will not be named (if you knew me in high school he was a plague on us all and I'm soooo sorry), wrote me lots of dark poetry.  He was one of those types that no one wants to be friends with, he made the choice to be a sort of pained soul.  I took pity on him and tried to be a friend because people didn't want anything to do with him.  He told me he loved me,  but I wouldn't date him because while part of him was dark and mysterious high school boy sexy, he was also 100% bad news and part of me knew it.  One morning I woke up and somehow he'd gotten hold of a car and drove out to my house.  On the outside of my bedroom window were like 100 yellow sticky notes with "I Love You" written on everyone.  I remember running outside in shorts and barefoot to rip them off before my parents saw.  There was also a poem involved but I forget where it was. 

This is a caviate, but I think that all my worst stories with guys involve one I tried to help because they were that stereotype loner.  The one no one wanted to be friends with because they were too weird or too this or too that.  The guy above, the guy who beat me up... yeah, that whole thing where people tell you to be friends with the loners because they need friends too?  Total lies.  They could have friends if they wanted to! (Note: I don't mean that whole don't-be-friends-with-them-thing.  There are people who are just shy or need to be understood, just be careful.  Broken noses are not fun.)

And no, I am not afraid of guys.  Am I slow to trust?  Yes.

So now it's time for my latest, really irrational fear.  Cockroaches.  Cockroaches everywhere.  It's a recent thing, like one year ago when I moved into this apartment and there was that one on my pillow.  I've never had an issue with bugs.  Heck, I ate crickets in Thailand!  But every time there is another one in my apartment the more my skin crawls at the sight of them.  First thing I do when I wake up and shamble out of my bedroom?  I flip on the lights for my kitchen and dining area and take a good, long hard look around to see if there's a culprit.  I have this image of cockroaches crawling in the cups I drink out of.  It freaks me out.

Okay, that's all I can think of for now.  If I can think of any other self-deprecating stories I'll share later!