Part 1
I’m a ‘Wuss’. Or so says my dad.
No, I’m not an abused child, down trodden by my father. He is, in fact, right.- I am a ‘Wuss’.
He was there when I stood and watched in fear as my whole family went on the Corkscrew at Alton towers, screaming that “they were all going to die”, comforted by some passersby. Having point blank refused to go on myself.
My dad was there when I went on the Caterpillar roller-coaster ride and screamed as it went through the apple!
I would love to say that I am adventurous, but for me, I much prefer the road more travelled. Preferably covered in tarmac.
This is the complete opposite to my partner, my best friend and my sister, who are drawn to the road, that well, quite frankly may not even have even been built yet. Using her map reading skills Sam is able to interpret images into real land, and finds her way, often as the crow flies. I am not- a crow.
To me a map is just pictures and lines that have no bearing on the landscape around me. And now we are taught not to think at all, and instead follow the blue line, of the SAT NAV in the hope that it does not think you are a crow.
Knee deep in water, scratched by brambles, I suggest turning back, but this doesn’t faze her. She will look at where the sun or moon is and use them as a guide. Nearly every time, it works- we find the perfect spot for sunset, a picturesque beach, or the beach bar that we have been dreaming of. The brambles open out to reveal the truth that sometimes, it is worth exploring ‘the road less travelled’.
Years ago, I thought it would be a nice idea to drive to the beach. It was a long winding road, (even missing in parts- tarmac), that turned into white sand. Opening out into a beautiful sandy beach- the perfect spot.
It took three lots of dog walkers to dig me out- with their hands. Like dogs we frantically, not ‘doggy paddled’, but ‘doggy digged’ (it was getting dark) around the tyres which were stubbornly wedged in the sand. If they hadn’t come past I don’t know what I would have done. I would probably still be there! That is me following the road less travelled.
I would love to be like my best friend, free spirited and fearless. Or my sister who once phoned home from South America, excited because there was a riot going on. Who thought it was an adventure jumping the fence at Glastonbury Festival. I did it, but as the police chased us on horseback, the screams coming out of me were not screams of joy!
There is a reason I wasn’t picked in the sports teams. As a friend once said, your skills are not as obvious as Sam’s (thanks a lot)… I’m still waiting for the ‘but’…
I am a self professed ‘Wuss’.. Even today my own shadow made me jump in the swimming pool, suddenly scared of what was lurking beneath.
So what is the true meaning of this word that I identify with: ‘Wuss’?
Using a Google dictionary and not a dusty hard back, according to the Noun, a Wuss is a ‘weak and ineffectual person’. The Verb describes a Wuss as ‘a person who fails to do, or complete something out of a lack of confidence’. I would like to say I lean towards the latter description of a ‘Wuss’ rather than the former ineffectual variety.
Despite my anxiety, which evidently has got worse as I have got older. I don’t think I am weak. Could my anxiety just be a sign of menopause.. that I have had all my life? I am as stubborn as my star sign ‘the bull’ says I am. If I want something or have my mind set on something, I will keep going until I get it.. I have done alright? I have survived ‘life’ so far?
Recently I saw a psychic who’s opening words to me were “oh dea”. Not reassuring from a person who is supposed to see into your soul and your destiny (aren’t they supposed to refrain from these kinds of statements ?)
He also made a comment that the brain uses a lot of energy, and if it wasn’t for my using my brain so much, I would be much fatter! I am not sure if I was supposed to receive it as a complement or not?
“Oh dea.. you don’t have it easy do you sweetheart” were his exact words. I think he was talking about my tendency to overthink everything.. Don’t we all?
I recently discovered that every time a family member of mine goes to walk down the stairs, she imagines herself falling down them. I was surprised because I thought I was the only one who saw the world in this way. It got worse after working in Accident Emergency. How can it not, when you see missing limbs that were there one minute, gone the next- moments of time that change in a split second and you didn’t even see it coming. If I see ice, I imagine myself falling over on it, in a car I’m crashing it (you get the jist) Is it a genetic thing? Or should I be joining the psychic in saying “oh dear sweetheart”.
What I’d like to think is that perhaps I just have a vast and vivid imagination- of the sensitive variety! I used to identify with the sitcom, ‘Ally McBeal’, she was my idol. It was like seeing myself in her: with her imagined world of extended tongues when she saw someone she fancied; her theme tune; seeing herself dumped into a trash can when being let down by a lover. Is this not just living in 3D? Everyday I wake up from a night of busy dreams, so much so, it has become ‘a thing’ a morning ritual. “So what happened last night” my partner asks as if we are talking about a missed episode from our favourite series. Sometimes my dreams are so crazy I wonder if they should be.
You don’t have it easy?
What was the psychic insinuating? That I have it hard- simply being me? Doesn’t everyone have it hard- being them? Aren’t we all our own worst enemy? With our own fears and idiosyncrasies? Isn’t it the same for all of us, that if only we could let go of the voice inside our heads that says “I can’t”, or “you’re not worthy”, or… “oh dear Sweetheart” – then maybe, just maybe, we might just get somewhere?
Maybe that is where we need to focus our energies and confidences..
Maybe we might just make it through the apple without screaming..
This year I have tried to push myself out of my comfort zone.. Exploring new paths and avenues. No roller coasters, but ‘my own ride’- There have definitely been some bumps in the road, I don’t know where my road less traveled will take me, but so far the views have been pretty amazing. And hey, I’m looking forward to getting to the core.
If you can let your mind be still for a minute, hush all the voices of doubt. If you can ignore the bullies on the sidelines that tell you, you are an impostor- (they were bullied too). If you can see that they eventually get bored when you stop listening.
If you can see that maybe they are there to remind us to keep on going.. To stretch that little bit further than we are? To explore what it would feel like if you listened to the other voice that says “I know I can…”
Maybe they are urging you to Get on your feet and move a little.
So today I am going to reclaim the word Wuss. To all those who at times feel a little Wussy.
Today a Wuss is THE:
Wonderful, Unquestionable, Sensational Self.
And hey we all have one! And it is down to you, the WUSS to decide what ride you are gonna take….
Part 2
So how am I going to do this?
I have self professed my identity as a relation to the common Wuss and at times I may even be a Wuss of the weak variety.
But I am just wondering, what am I supposed to do about the really scary shit that I have discovered also inhabits this exotic island.
The stuff that other people are scared of and some worse than me. I am not the only one who is scared of creepy crawlies. WHY do they call them that? Coz they are creepy when they crawl? Whoever came up with that name- it DOESN’T help! My Aunty refuses to enter a room if there is a common house spider in it. A good friend ran out of the house once at the sight of a moth on TV- I do recall it was in Silence of the Lambs? One may say there were far scarier things in that film- the cannibalistic sucking teeth of Antony Hopkins maybe? But no she ran for the hills at the sight of a moth.
Having lived on a boat I got used to the spiders that also live there. After living in our Hall house for a few months, we came back to discover there was not simply ‘a’ spider on her, but a city, a metropolis if you like, of webs like bridges between our boat and our neighbours.
Inside Misty were bundles of fluffy nests waiting to give birth to even more spiders. Maybe for Aunty Ju this would have been too much, but I just brushed them away with a broom without much thought, feeling somewhat guilty about the nests (like candy floss) that disintegrated, like candy floss in my fingers.
So why should it be any different here? Maybe it is because the things that are here, are things that at home, I would only see in a zoo! Or on an organised reptilian day out. Maybe it’s because they are usually caged or handled by a designated handler who puts them back in the box.
Not that I condone caging animals, but a cage between me and ‘it’, is exactly what I would prefer in this instance. Or a box, so you know exactly where it is. In fact I don’t mind who goes in it. I would vote to get in it, myself if that means there is a distance between me and ‘it’!
I have recently joined a Facebook page, for daily news and posts about the island that we have moved to. So that I can learn about the place I now inhabit.
So I am just wondering how any self professed Western Wusses would feel about today’s post?
Last week the topic was snakes. Sam reassures me that no one in her school has seen a snake in all the years they had lived on the island. Which is why I was surprised when on my first walk outside, I stumbled across a baby snake in the road. My research found that its markings matched that of a baby Python. I could be wrong. I would like to be proved wrong. But most babies have mummies. So I can only assume that mummy snake was not far behind? That is if they walk/ slither in single file? Is that not what they do in the jungle?
I was not that impressed when Sam came home that evening stating that she had a present for me- a number for ‘snake man’ who lives on the island and who you can call, should you come face to face with one! Of course I then looked at his website only to see a large array of snakes he had rescued inside and outside. Who, when asked, “do you really get snakes that big here”, responded in true Crocodile Dundee style, that, that is not a big snake, this is a big snake and proceeded to show a video of another ‘beauty’ he had rescued that day.
“I thought it would put your mind at rest” Sam says.. “To know that there is someone you could call, if you are on your own and don’t know what to do…”
“Thank you”, I say, but I am not sure if it has. And since when is a helpline a present!? I can think of better presents?- A bunch of flowers, a new pen? Anything but a direct hotline to all the things that terrify me.
I did however save his number in my phone Titled: The Snake Man.
I have started to come to terms with the ‘snake thing’. They are unlikely to come to the house, they are more scared of me. You will only find them in bushes or under houses..Yada yada. To be honest I have no idea where you will find them, or anything about snakes. I know that here they keep cats on leads or indoors to stop them getting eaten by them.
Having just moved into our new house, which involves having to walk across a garden with bushes either side, and directly next to the underneath of the neighbouring house, I have been a little bit ‘on edge’ so to speak, but even then have tried to put my mind at rest.
It is very unlikely I will come face to face with a snake and hey what are they going to do, chase me…? So having come to terms with having snakes as neighbours. Having just dusted down the fear, my day did not start well reading today’s post titled: Huntsman Spiders.
A lady shared her wanting to move to the island but didnt know if she could, because of her fear of Huntsman spiders. What? We have them as well? Someone else posted that she shouldn’t be moving to an island if she is scared of the creatures in the jungle. Good point- certainly these creatures were here before us? It is their jungle after all. But wait, did you say Huntsman spiders? The ones that in the UK you can only see online, or read about in books? The really creepy crawlies? I know I should stop reading the post, but can’t help myself… “Yeah I got charged by one the other day”, someone else posts. What? Charged at by a spider? WTF?
Then another, “dont worry, if you get bitten by one their fangs are soft and can’t hurt you” … Fangs??
Oh god. This is not helping at all.
I slowly get up from where I am sitting outside on the rattan sofa. What if there is one crawling up the back of it? What if behind the rattan, is a metropolis of huntsman spiders, of mummies and babies?- Their nest really would look like candy floss!
I am suddenly so jittery that I don’t know where to put myself. I jump on the bed before checking underneath it.
I am scanning every surface, every floor.
I wonder if it really is good to be informed. Or if ignorance bliss?
I jump at my dress that blows under the fan
I jump at the wire that is moving as I frantically type this
I even jump at the sweat trickling down my legs..
Shit, I need to get a grip.
Suddenly the fan stops working. We have had a power cut.
Another norm on this island. But in this moment, it is not just another power cut:
It is Hanibal Lector having cut the cord to my power supply. Behind him his army of huntsmans and moths and everything else in this godforsaken jungle…
What if they can smell my fear? Don’t they say the same about dogs?
A woman I met in India comes to mind.She on the beach. And in her hand is a dog zapper- an alarm that is supposed to deter stray dogs.
“They shouldn’t be on this beach,” she says
I don’t like her.
“I am sure they were here before you”, I say
Instead of acting as a deterrent her special device attracts them, and I laugh as she frantically taps at the device surrounded by a group of stray dogs..
I am not laughing now..
What if soon all the animals of the jungle will soon be knocking at my door?
I read today that Eucalyptus oil can act as a deterrent. Is that what I need to do?
Get myself some spray to keep by my side at all times?
Like a soldier with an AK47 by her side.. Whose weapon is a fucking essential oil!
How am I going to do this? A Western Woman in the jungle- will I get used to it?
If I see a Huntsman running across my kitchen floor, am I just supposed to think of it as a cuddly variety of the ones back home? Am I supposed to just cover it with a cup (please don’t make me use a glass, I don’t want to see it!) and with a card underneath its soft belly; tickling it as I go, nonchalantly chuck it outside. Saying there you go Mrs Python have a chomp on that?
Will I stop being a Wuss? Will I soon be eating charcoaled spider legs, and crispy Scorpions like I might a packet of cheese and onion crisps from my local?
Will all this gradually become the norm? And soon my middle name will be Jane!…
(I am pleased to say- that since writing this I have come face to face with a snake at the house- and I wasn’t scared! And I have got myself a motorbike!)
A narrow escape 