Aren't you scared of spiders?

I was working with a client recently, decluttering their well-stocked garage. As you

might expect there was a mish-mash of outdoor toys, camping kit and gardening

equipment tangled with boxes of items destined for a charity shop that had made it

out of the house but not much further, collections of keepsakes, packaging that

‘might be useful’, spent paperwork and Christmas decorations.

All the flotsam and jetsam of family life was there and as always, I rolled up my

sleeves, picked up the first item within reach and began sorting. After a couple of

hours when progress was becoming obvious, my client asked a question: “Aren’t you

scared of spiders?”

For the avoidance of doubt, my absolute most favourite type of spider is, and always

will be, a dead one. I spent many a childhood night paralysed by fear over the tiniest

of these eight-legged gits on my bedroom wall, too afraid to call or fetch help

because what if it moved and I lost sight of it and didn’t know where it was. If

you’ve ever had this phobia you know exactly what I’m talking about.

The fear was all consuming. Visceral and even now I’m not immune to that flush of

white prickly heat rushing through me when I unexpectedly encounter a juicy one but

something happened in my twenties that helped my overcome it.

An opportunity to travel and work in South Africa came up and a key part of my

decision making was the likelihood of encountering spiders, ones that actually were

legitimately cause for fear. What if I saw one? What if I embarrassed myself with

disproprootionate terror? What if there was one on me?!

When I realised where my head was at, I was SO pissed. Oh boy, did I get mad. At

myself for all the opportunities I’d missed already and all the things I might still, but

mostly with them. I discovered that sometimes, what helps face a problem is simply

getting really bloody cross with it!

So, I went to South Africa and a Black Window lived under the back doorstep of the

downstairs flat. Then I went to Australia and encountered one so big it could only be

caught in a colander.

Now, while my absolute dislike for spiders remains my fury at them for putting me off

doing things overrides that fear and propels me forward. This rage (one I am

harnessing in perimenopausal years, if you know you know) is actually really useful.

If there is clutter in your home that you just can’t bear to tackle, it might be the what

ifs, ‘The Fear’ that’s stopping you getting on with the task.

Things like:

What if I find things I don’t know what to do with?

What if I unearth painful memories I don’t have the strength to face right now?

What if I give it away and regret it?

What if I lose motivation half way through and just end up with a less

contained, bigger mess?!

Anticipating emotional discomfort can be utterly debilitating. If that sounds familiar,

contact me or a professional organiser in your neighbourhood. We are a hardy

bunch and whatever fear is holding you back, whether it has eight legs or none, we

can come and help you squash it (or at least find a workaround that helps you live).