"A mother's job is to protect her children from the world, and the father's job is to protect the world from the mother."
That quote fits my parents perfectly. Mom's like a Mama Bear. If she feels her cubs are threatened, she'll rip the culprit's head off. I've always loved that about Mom. And Dad has to make sure she doesn't do something the law will be after her for. Dad can be pretty scary when he wants to be, but I think Mom's a little scarier depending on the situation.
Moving on, I realized when I wrote down the few facts about me, I never discussed my phobias. I have quite a few of them. Some of them are silly---there's no reason I should have them---and others are understandable. I think the silliest phobia I have is of bees, wasps, hornets, etc. Mom hates them, too, but she's allergic. I have never been stung in my life. So why do I have such an insane fear of them? No idea. All I know is that every time I hear something buzz near me, or I see one of those suckers flying by me, I freak out. I scream and run. I remember one time I thought I'd die of a heart attack. It was in second or third grade, and I was walking home with one of my friends. She pointed at my shoulder, and a bee was sitting right on my shirt. It had tried to sting my shoulder, but its stinger got stuck in my shirt, and it died right there. I could see its honeycomb eyes; the bee looked evil. I remember dancing in place, shrieking, "Get it off! Get it off!" My friend had to grab it with a tissue. It crunched. I hate bees.
Besides the unreasonable fear of any bug with a stinger (scratch that. I just don't like any bugs, stinger or no.), I also have a fear of pain. Anything that causes me pain, whether it's physical or emotion, I tend to shrink away from. Unless it's pregnancy. I'm really excited for that, and a few of my friends think I'm insane. Maybe I should rephrase the statement. I'm afraid of pain that doesn't result in anything obviously good or remotely helpful. I'm afraid of losing a close member of my family or friends. I'm afraid to get in a car wreck and either be injured myself or injure anyone else. I'm afraid of being killed. The list goes on and on. I play it safe, sometimes too safe. I just don't want to hurt.
Ghosts are terrifying to me as well. Not those lost spirits who want help and mean me no harm. I mean more like the souls of murderers who possess and haunt and frighten and try to harm. Dark spirits. Fortunately, I've never been in a house with dark spirits trying to hurt me. However, I always feel eerie when I'm alone. I'm not saying for sure there's anything here, but I do get the occasional "someone's watching me" feeling. And I see images flashing at night when I'm sitting in my dark room. I have a very paranoid mind, so my imagination gets the better of me. There's someone standing at the edge of my bed. I heard someone say something, but no one's there. Don't look behind you; stare straight at your room and don't look back until your door is closed. The list goes on and on. I've never really gotten the feeling that anything wanted to hurt me, but I'm extremely jumpy. Call me crazy, but I don't imagine a ghost popping up behind me while I'm walking around my dark house going over too well.
I actually have a few sweet but creepy stories about ghosts or spirits, or what appeared to be one or the other. One was probably just my paranoid mind going at work, and the other I know wasn't me because it happened to someone else.
The first one happened a few years ago when I was living in St. George, in a house built in the 1960s. I was home alone because Mom had to pick the boys up from school. I was downstairs in the kitchen, and I walked towards the back door when I heard a little girl call out, "Ashton." Reasons for panicking: 1. I was alone. Completely. No one home. 2. Other than Mom, I was and still am the only girl at home. I ran outside and waited for Mom to come home.
This second story always gives me a weird feeling. It's not one of those "a friend of a friend" stories. It's a "this happened to my parents" story. We were living in Diamond Valley many years ago, which made me pretty young. Mom and Dad were sleeping. When I was little, whenever I had a nightmare, I would walk into my parents' room and just stare at my mom. She'd feel someone watching her and would wake up to find me standing at her side. Creepy enough, right? I'll admit I was an oddball. But one night was different. Mom woke up and saw me come into her room and sit at the end of the bed. I stared at her. She asked me if I'd had a nightmare. I didn't answer. Just stared. She reached out to touch me, but I wasn't there anymore. Mom laid back down, not too concerned since she was still half asleep. This wouldn't have been the first time she had imagined something being there. But not seconds after she laid back down, Dad asked her, "What did Ashton want?"
Either I pulled a Houdini or something else went on. I honestly have no explanation for that last story. It really creeps me out.
Well, here's where I end for today. Until next time.
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