Today’s an ordinary day. After a lazy breakfast, there I was: sitting at my desk wrapped in a red blanket, ploughing through job apps.I feel an itch midway down my back, reaching back to scratch it. It feels like a tad bigger than a mole, and as I pry with my fingernail, it flips up. My inner wizened sassy self chirps up: Dang, son! That is one big azzz wart! Sighing, I stand up and walk across to the bathroom to look at it in the mirror. I turn sideways to show my right side, and this is what I see:
My mind liquifies in fear. Oh shit! It’s a tick! I start to go into some absurd form of fear-fuelled shock: my mind spins like the burning-hot wheels on an upside down car, my hands start shaking as if I have Parkinson’s. It’s like I’m a 13 year girl at a screening of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre! Partially in fear and partially horribly embarrassed at my dismal state, I try to figure what next to do.
No one’s in the house. Shit. Okay um, tweezers, I need tweezers! I fumble with the bathroom-counter drawer, tearing it open, and juggling through various pairs of scissors and other aethetic cutlery. Deciding upon a small, pointed pair of delicate scissors, I set out to remove this thing as fast as I humanly can.
To my dismay, it’s located in such an awkward place on my body (right side, midback) that I may not be able to get its head. I’m wracking my brains to try and remember what I know of ticks. Don’t grab or squeeze the body, get it’s head. Giving new meaning to the words twist and shout, I finally get the position of the scissors under the sucker’s body, and close to its head buried into my purpled skin. It’s now or never!
A dark body falls to the countertop. Victory is mine! I empty my lungs with one emphatic sigh….. until I realize that the head is partially still in the purpled cut! My mind’s inner dialogue turns from euphoria/rain scene in Shawshank Redemption to the swearing scene from The King’s Speech.
In hindsight, I can laugh now. Situations like these give me the chance to see these little bits of myself, these little bits of my character, that otherwise I have not seen much of. I’ve never had a phobia, but I think if I did, it’d be of parasites and other clingy things. Bloodsuckers aside, I can even see my “phobia” of parasitic relationships. People who are afraid of loneliness so much that they cannot even go out somewhere in public without being with someone.
I saw a couple a while back while I was at Conestoga mall looking for a bday gift for a friend. A couple was walking together side by side, the woman paused for a second to look at a store item, while the man took a few steps ahead. Involuntarily she lashed out and latched onto his jacket, and wouldn’t let go. As if a few feet away was too far for her. Tehe, oh people.
But as much as I can laugh at others for this, I have to laugh at myself too. We’re all parasites. All in our own ways. Living at home with parents for free room and board. Mooching off of rich friends.
The key is to getting out of this toxic nature I think is to realize that you need people, but also they need you.