Who Am I? Imaginative

Ever since I ended that relationship in January, I have seriously contemplated the question,

“Who am I?”

I’ve considered writing about it before, but I guess I wasn’t ready.  I’m going to start with something easy to address in hopes it will be one less thing on my mind, keeping me awake.

I am imaginative.  Each and every time I go down to the basement-garage, to do laundry, find an art supply, or get in my car, I imagine something or someone waiting for me.  I imagine zombies, coyotes, the neighbor’s vicious dog, human traffickers coming to get me, etc.

Fortunately, up until now, I have survived to tell mostly uneventful stories of my basement-garage visits.  But one time there really was something waiting for me.  I ran up the stairs and slammed the door.  It took me about 10 minutes to convince myself it had to be a small, harmless critter.

  I finally went downstairs and found a 2 ft snake.  I’m not afraid of snakes! Then I realized this isn’t Chicago.  Poisonous snakes live here!  How do I know if it’s poisonous?  I tried to chase it out the garage door witha broom.  But it didn’t want to leave.  I finally decided it was small enough that I would survive the ride to the hospital if it bit me and I needed anti-venom.  I picked it up with my hands and releases it to the back of my yard.

The moral here is that I face my imagination head on every day, but I’m more than imaginative.  I’m independent.  I face real fears and challenges and overcome them independently.


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