Tripping....
The amygdala is an almond sized section of the brain that controls our fight or flight responses. You know when you feel that instant shot of adrenalin and you have an immediate reaction to something you perceive as a threat...that's our little amygdala at work.
As a mother and former arachnaphobiac, my amygdala is well-tuned and I can be in the deepest of sleeps and wake in full flight or fight mode. It's usually flight mode, if I'm completely honest.
The connection to arachnaphobia is important here too. Many years ago, after a long, hard night of partying, I fell into bed in a drunken stupour. My amygdala wasn't drunk though, and allowed me to bolt upright and fly over the end of my bed when I heard a feint scratching on the sheet. I thought it might have been an insect of some description...a cockroach perhaps. Having gone over the end of the bed and taken all the bedding with me, I flicked on the light and examined my bed for the offender.
My phobia commenced in earnest that night. It took me a long time to be able to sleep in my bed again, and after returning and believing the same thing could never happen again, I heard it. That feint scratching noise. It was coming from behind my wardrobe and something was scratching its way over some paper that had fallen behind it. I sat and watched, my heart thumping in my chest.
Not long after this, I purchased a one-way ticket for London and went to a country that doesn't have such nasties. It took me years to overcome my fear. Becoming a mother and needing to deal with things was part of it. I'm hyper-vigilant and my amygdala works on keeping me safe.
As I sit here and listen to the cacophony of croaking in my backyard, this brings me to the present.
I was in a deep and peaceful slumber last night, only to be jolted awake and upright by a feint scratching sound coming from behind my bed. I tried to see down there and all I could see was alarmingly big fluff balls. I contemplated getting the vacuum out and then realised it was 1am. This would not bode well with the other house occupants. What to do...what to do.
I did a perimeter check on the bed...nothing touching the floor. I moved a massive pile of goodwill clothes from my big wardrobe clean-out the other day. Can't risk anything climbing that mountain. Heart racing, I realised that if it was going to get me, I probably couldn't stop it. Should I sleep on the lounge? It could get me there too! What's the point. Ok, I'm just going to have to stay awake all night....curled up in a ball on my bed, with the light on and trust that my amygdala is going to keep me safe...and that I don't wake up
Laying there, curled up in my ball, staying away from the edges of the bed, no covers in case it got caught up in sheets, I began to doze when I heard feint scratching noises again!!!!
Again I bolted out of bed and something caught my eye in the corner of my room...something that wasn't there before. A giant ball of fluff, that I recognised as the fluff I had previously looked at behind my bed. How bizarre. Upon closer inspection, I realised there was
Hmmm...what to do. Clearly the little thing was not coping with the massive ball of fluff it was tangled in, so I morphed into rescuer mode (as opposed to the borderline hysterical mode I was in before). I caught it in a cup, took it to the bathroom and washed it off in the sink, with only a few wobbles when it tried to jump out of the sink. It had the most alarmingly long toes *shudder*
Anyway, my good deed was done. The little frog got to join his friends in the backyard. How he came to be in my bedroom is a mystery...but thank God it was only a frog!
As a mother and former arachnaphobiac, my amygdala is well-tuned and I can be in the deepest of sleeps and wake in full flight or fight mode. It's usually flight mode, if I'm completely honest.
The connection to arachnaphobia is important here too. Many years ago, after a long, hard night of partying, I fell into bed in a drunken stupour. My amygdala wasn't drunk though, and allowed me to bolt upright and fly over the end of my bed when I heard a feint scratching on the sheet. I thought it might have been an insect of some description...a cockroach perhaps. Having gone over the end of the bed and taken all the bedding with me, I flicked on the light and examined my bed for the offender.
My phobia commenced in earnest that night. It took me a long time to be able to sleep in my bed again, and after returning and believing the same thing could never happen again, I heard it. That feint scratching noise. It was coming from behind my wardrobe and something was scratching its way over some paper that had fallen behind it. I sat and watched, my heart thumping in my chest.
Not long after this, I purchased a one-way ticket for London and went to a country that doesn't have such nasties. It took me years to overcome my fear. Becoming a mother and needing to deal with things was part of it. I'm hyper-vigilant and my amygdala works on keeping me safe.
As I sit here and listen to the cacophony of croaking in my backyard, this brings me to the present.
I was in a deep and peaceful slumber last night, only to be jolted awake and upright by a feint scratching sound coming from behind my bed. I tried to see down there and all I could see was alarmingly big fluff balls. I contemplated getting the vacuum out and then realised it was 1am. This would not bode well with the other house occupants. What to do...what to do.
I did a perimeter check on the bed...nothing touching the floor. I moved a massive pile of goodwill clothes from my big wardrobe clean-out the other day. Can't risk anything climbing that mountain. Heart racing, I realised that if it was going to get me, I probably couldn't stop it. Should I sleep on the lounge? It could get me there too! What's the point. Ok, I'm just going to have to stay awake all night....curled up in a ball on my bed, with the light on and trust that my amygdala is going to keep me safe...and that I don't wake up
Laying there, curled up in my ball, staying away from the edges of the bed, no covers in case it got caught up in sheets, I began to doze when I heard feint scratching noises again!!!!
Again I bolted out of bed and something caught my eye in the corner of my room...something that wasn't there before. A giant ball of fluff, that I recognised as the fluff I had previously looked at behind my bed. How bizarre. Upon closer inspection, I realised there was
Hmmm...what to do. Clearly the little thing was not coping with the massive ball of fluff it was tangled in, so I morphed into rescuer mode (as opposed to the borderline hysterical mode I was in before). I caught it in a cup, took it to the bathroom and washed it off in the sink, with only a few wobbles when it tried to jump out of the sink. It had the most alarmingly long toes *shudder*
Anyway, my good deed was done. The little frog got to join his friends in the backyard. How he came to be in my bedroom is a mystery...but thank God it was only a frog!