Itsy-Bitsy Spiders

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“Weaving spiders, come not here;
Hence, you long-legged spinners, hence!
Beetles black approach not near;
Worm nor snail, do no offence.”
– Williams Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Branches creak in the chilly breeze blowing through leafless trees.  Swirls of red, orange, and yellow dance across lawns and drift into aging tomato plants, hanging with the final fruit of the season.  Acorns sound like machine guns pelting tin roofs.  And the sun sets too quickly, eking out the last bit of light for swarms of black birds swooping to and fro, cackling restlessly on their way to a southern clime.

Fall comes and our eyes and ears are alert to the spooky evidence of a region putting itself to bed for the winter.

Of all the things that frighten me this season – of all the drifting phobias of ghosts and goblins and witches and monsters – the only thing that scares me to the bone isn’t supernatural at all.

It’s spiders.

I am not alone.  Fear of spiders consistently finds itself in the top ten American fears – oft times edging out death.  Snakes, heights, and public speaking aside – spiders are the creepiest, crawling-est things on this earth.  Through every season of the year, they relentlessly pursue we who fear them – feeling their way toward us with their spiky, ecto-skeletal legs.

Fall is the worst.  For Fall is when spiders flee the cold and sneak into our homes.

I have been arachnophobic since I can remember.  Some studies even suggest that fear of spiders develops before birth – an evolutionary predisposition to hate that which can harm us.  But for some people, like me, this fear takes on a life of its own, an irrational blind panic, once eight legs and thousands of beady eyes drop from above.

My fear of spiders concerned my parents.  After all, spiders are everywhere, in every city and county and country.  This was not a reassuring thought.  Each night before bed, I had my mother sweep my entire room for arachnids – or else I could not sleep.  The monster beneath my bed and the ghost in my closet were of little concern.  But my heart stopped at the idea of delicate legs working their way across my face and into my hair.

Education was the answer, my parents hoped.  They bought me books on spiders, made me watch spider episodes of “Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom,” and took me into the garden to see the weaving spider make it’s secret, Satanic code in it’s web.

My education about spiders taught me one thing:  Spiders kill.

Through the years, this realization followed me to schools, homes, offices, and gardens where spiders lurked behind every fold of clothing, under every bed, in every bag and purse, and throughout every inch of the outdoors.  Imagine being aware that two centimeters of  fang-riddled death waited for you, you know not where.

I’ve had many run-ins with spiders in my life – and I’ve lived to tell the tale.  So for the month of October, the scary stories I write will not be paranormal.  I’ll save those for a more appropriate time, like Christmas.  My stories will be about the scariest, hairiest spiders I’ve had the strength and not-so-much strength to encounter.  Some are funny – well most are funny – but know this:  they tried to destroy me but did not.  I’m a survivor.

Arachnophobics are in every part of our community and we are in large numbers.  Please be aware that when you post on your Facebook page what you consider a beautiful spider in its web, or an enlarged picture of a brown recluse reminding us to take care, or a close-up of a tarantula’s eyes giving the stare of death – remember we visit Facebook too.  In that brief moment when you “share” a spider link or picture, you create opportunity for re-posts and comments that keep the nightmare on our monitors for hours.  It’s everything we can do not to scream.

Spiders may not seem like a big deal to you.  If so, you are lucky.  You may believe arachnophobes like me just need to get over it.  You may even giggle a bit when you post a particularly nasty eight-legged fiend, knowing we are scrambling to hide the monster you attached to the newsfeed.

Please remember, as phobics, we cannot reason with our unreasonable fear.  We cannot rationally understand that we are not in danger of being eaten by a creature one-hundredth of our size.  And we cannot laugh at our own ridiculous reaction to an itsy-bitsy spider.

Because we cannot breathe.

About Post Author

Terry Gau

tgau13@gmail.com

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