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.