I woke up and stared at the
glowing stars stuck to my ceiling. Those glow in the dark sticker things were
probably the best things to ever happen to me; they make me feel so safe and so
at ease which is extremely important in my own home. The longer I laid in
silence staring at the ceiling, the more and more frightened I got. I could
faintly make out the shapes of the small Winnie the Pooh figures that were
plastered on my bright yellow wall. Anyone who even took a small glance into my
room could immediately tell I was a fan of the little yellow bear and his many
friends. The stuffed animals of Pooh, Tigger, Piglet, and Eeyore were scattered
all over my room and I got increasingly more and more mad at myself as I
realized I hadn’t remembered to take any of them up to bed with me that
night. I had a loft bed with a ladder on one side to get up and a slide on the
other side to get down, so I couldn’t just hop out of bed and look for them.
Even if I could, I’d be too scared. I never told anyone that the dark was my
biggest fear because I thought if any of my friends knew, they’d make fun of
me. They just wouldn’t understand. It’s not the dark itself, but it’s the
thought of what’s in the dark that I can’t see. What if someone is hiding and I
can’t see them? Or, better yet, what if someTHING is hiding and I can’t see IT?
It’s terrifying and others should be able to see that too. After about ten
minutes of pure terror went by, I couldn’t take it any longer. I grabbed
Flatso, my favorite stuffed dog since I was 2 years old, slid down my slide,
and full on sprinted to my parents’ room. Usually they slept apart
because my dad snored so loud to the point that you could hear it from the
other side of the house. Tonight, however, they were together, which was perfect
for me because that meant I got both of them to make me feel better. I ran in
their room and immediately shook my mom awake. She knew exactly why I was there
as I had done it every night since I had my own room in the first place and
responded with a simple, “oh get in”. Those words were just music to me
ears and without any hesitation, I did exactly as she said. I hopped into their
bed right in between my mom and my dad and turned on the TV for some light. It
was a very comforting routine until the next morning when my mom would tell me
it’s a habit I need to kick. Being scared of the dark isn’t something I can
just “get rid of”. That’s not how fears work mom. Anyways, this comfort routine
continued until I was in 5th grade, yes, I know. But why is this all important
you ask? Well, because to this day, I’m still scared of the dark and the amount
of times I wish it was still acceptable to run into my mommy’s room and climb
into bed with her is just embarrassing.
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