Spiders

In a dark, musty attic overlooking the street full of commuters, I lived. Journaling or playing guitar were ways of passing time. When I was moody with unpredictable behaviors it became my safe place from the world. There were spider webs in my mind which were harmless unless someone poked my button. Quick to anger I would retreat to my attic for rest. Sometimes a poke would make me cry.

Spiders should be left alone. As a spider-brained introvert and guilty, from a Roman Catholic upbringing, I was harmless like spiders who live in their webs. However, if you disturbed them or their prey they would become upset and hang on their bungee chord daring you to do it again least they land on you. My spiders in the attic were harmless; the spiders in my brain might not be.

Moving to Australia in 1974 was exciting. That is where I learned about harmful spiders. My partner and I moved into a small home with an outhouse, common in the 70's. We were taught a song, a funny song, that said to watch out for spiders that might bite your bum when you sat down in the outhouse. Nasty, dangerous spiders made their homes there.

During our first week in the home we decided the curtains had to go. We went about taking them down, not worrying about house spiders, when a huge, hairy Wolf spider appeared. They were like the spiders in my brain, once poked or provoked they are angry and go after their prey. We jumped back ready for an attack just like a person who would have poked my button. Quickly my partner ran to get the broom and beat the hell out of that spider. I wondered why no one had every hurt me. At this point in my life my dad had poked a finger in my side and I screamed at him. He was hurt emotionally, I could see his face, but I could not stop. Like the Wolf spider I kept coming after him.

When spiders are encountered, whether in a harmless web or hiding in someone's head, over the years we become wise and learn not to poke them. I never went back to that attic.