Spider Season is upon us. For some, this may bring joyous celebration. Others may be blissfully unaware that it is a thing at all. For me, it brings with it the weight of years of arachnophobia. Proper fear. Not just being a bit silly about spiders. Real phobia. However, I have reached a better place with it of late.
Having said that, I can’t pretend that it was with delight that I noticed that familiar shape in a corner of my dining room this morning. And I’d like to say that it hasn’t blighted my whole day. Which hadn’t got off to the best start, I’ll be honest.
Malcolm and Rosie had left early for a day of meetings. That’s okay, I can get on with things at home. The postman delivered my house insurance letter for the coming year. Not so good. A dribble of an income isn’t going to cover this as well as the car MOT and service, nor the cost of getting the roof leaks and other rain-related issues fixed in the house. These things prey on your mind, so I put an end to the delay and called a roofer. Which felt like a good first step to getting it done, and off my mentally hefty list of things to do that I don’t want to do…
So I went around the house noting all the places the rain has been coming in, which was when I spotted the shape of the spider. One advantage of poor vision, it wasn’t in high definition!
Captive
When Ronan was a baby, I had a couple of spider incidents which, in the end, took me to the doctor. A spider in the stairwell, which prevented me from leaving the flat. And a spider on his bib, which I managed to wheech off him and fling into the kitchen before having to get a neighbour I’d never spoken to before to come and catch it for me… My GP actually laughed when I told her, until I cried. I was determined that I wouldn’t pass this on to Ronan, and I clearly needed help! So she arranged for me to see a psychologist for desensitisation.
I saw a lovely student psychologist, and we started by saying the word ‘spider’ and writing ‘spider’ repeatedly until I didn’t physically react. We watched Arachnophobia, the film, (which I’d actually gone to see at the cinema, and embarrassed myself by screaming). And built up to holding pretend, plastic spiders. (This was all over the course of a few weeks/ months, not the one session!).
I even pretended to catch the pretend plastic spider in a glass!
It was winter-time, and though she’d put the call out to her family and friends it was proving difficult to get a real live spider to help. I do remember working up the courage to hold the shed skin of a spider that someone had victoriously found in their garage! It was pretty bad, as being so light, it just wanted to waft away! In the end, before the end of the student’s placement, we did have a real live, small, spider which I felt very sorry for. We brought it home in a coffee jar, and I released it just as it started to snow. I still feel guilty about it to this day…
I remember every spider experience I’ve ever had.
The spider I got on my hand playing as a child; the one in the long grass on my leg; the one crawling in silhouette against the window, behind the chair in our first house; the dead one my brother found in his tin of macaroni (which he used with his dumper truck); the one he and his friend cornered with a pile of marbles; the ones in the hedge the boys at school chased me with; the one on my arm that must’ve been in my cardigan sleeve; the ones in the tent at guide camp; and the one on my bedroom wall in Birmingham (city of the biggest spiders in the world)…
I swear I sensed it in my sleep, cos it woke me up. And I had to get my step ladders out to catch it. As I held up the glass (to catch it), saying to myself “after 3…” whilst imagining there was a real, live crocodile at the bottom of the ladders that would get me if I didn’t get the spider first… At that most delicate of moments, a bead of (nervous) sweat trickled down my arm! Horrendous.
Spidey Senses
And potentially my worst ever spider experience – the one in my classroom.
I was clearing out stuff in the summer holidays, and had been leaving a black bin-bag of unknown contents. I had a funny feeling about it. But, in similar fashion, I gave myself the ‘one, two, three’ treatment, and as I moved it, I thought I saw a dark shape on my side. I did a bit of a spider dance move, and it ran round onto my thigh. Fuck. It was a huge spider. It spun me into full-on spider dance mode – I didn’t care if any parent’s could see me – and this is the only time I’ve ever done this… I stood on it. Deliberately. The fear of not knowing where it had gone was greater than my morals. I just don’t kill things. This was serious. But I had to know where it was. And now I had to bring myself to get rid of it.
And my very first memory of a spider…
We must have been about 2 or 3 (my twin brother and I) and all I remember was my mum screaming (shock) and her shouting at us to get up the stairs. I remember her throwing a bowl over the monster (spider) and saying we weren’t to touch it, and our dad would get it when he got home. And that was that, arachnophobia struck in that moment.
Which was why I was gutted when, at the age of 12, Ronan found out I was afraid of spiders! I had tried so hard for so many years not to let him know, so that he wouldn’t be scared to leave his flat if there was a spider on the wall.
Back to today
The problem with this spider (apart from it being there in the first place) is that it is sitting off the wall in a web, right at the corner…
Photo taken at full zoom distance! The patches on the wall are damp – either from my fridge freezer, or more likely from a leak somewhere above, noted on my list for the roofer of ‘needs doing’.
This poses a great difficulty. Sitting on a wall, a spider can be caught in a glass (pint sized – apart from in Birmingham where they are too big to fit in a pint glass) provided it doesn’t move. This spider has angled herself (because the females are big) so that she can’t be caught from either side. The glass can’t get into the corner without leaving an obvious choice of escape routes for the spider.
All day I’ve known she’s there. And I’ve been avoiding her. Who am I kidding. I’ve been avoiding the fridge, no – the dining room, no – the entire kitchen! I’m not sure if my avoidance is a good thing, as she’s still there (or so I believe). Or an avoidance tactic (psychologically not a good thing).
Therapy
Since the psychology attempt in my early twenties, I saw a hypnotherapist, who I had little faith in, and it didn’t help. I saw another hypnotherapist in my late thirties who was great, he helped me with my interview stress (I got the job!). But the spider thing was stubborn, and whilst the sessions were a wonderful relaxation, the phobia remained. He told Ronan not to tell me about spiders in the house. Just to catch them and put them on the wall at the bottom of the street. (The neighbours have become accustomed to one or other of us walking down the street, glass, card and spider in hand.)
I have since seen 2 EMDR therapists who have helped me make quite a significant difference. But clearly the fear runs deep. As I don’t know if it’s worse that it’s still there when I go to look, or if it would be much worse if it wasn’t still there!
Where has it gone? Where and when will it turn up next etc.?
Tonight
Malcolm has called, and is on his way back. He’ll be home around 11. Relief, as I thought he might stay over at his mums, in which case I’d have the dreadful walk to see if it is still there in the morning. As it is, I’m wondering if I should be leaving a light on in there as it’s now dark, and they tend to get a bit more active at night…
Malcolm knows the drill… Don’t tell me he’s caught it if he hasn’t. Make it a clean catch. No hurting the spider. Take it to the wall at the bottom of the street (depending on size. Sometimes the wall in the back garden is fine. (this is a wall at the bottom of the street jobby! My neighbours at number 1, nearest the wall, aren’t afraid of spiders. I’ve checked.). Throwing it out the front door and pretending you’ve been to the bottom of the street ISN’T enough.
And I really feel the need for some ‘spiritual assistance’ tonight, which requires a trip to the fridge. And I appear to be glued to the couch! Unless I crack open a bottle of wine from the cold tile vestibule floor – but that is another potential spider corner… And definitely avoidance in action!
I need to try and use this as practise of my new-found mind-control abilities. Don’t think about the huge spider in the dining room. Starting from now (cos I’ve failed up until now!).
If at first you don’t succeed…
I have tried several ‘homemade’ techniques – plastic spiders in the bath (so that I don’t get a fright – I did, every time). I’ve drawn spiders – including the spider I stood on in bare feet in Birmingham – where I invented the ‘spider dance’ trying to get it off my foot. I didn’t want its life to be in vain. Conkers. And this big steel spider (main photo) which Malcolm bought me to leave at the back door as a guardian, to see off potential 8 legged intruders… It clearly doesn’t work.
Worst thing about it all, Ronan nearly jumped out his skin when he saw the steel spider for the first time!
I have found writing about some things quite therapeutic. I’m not sure I can say the same about this. I’ve felt on edge and jumpy all day. Though less so than I would have done years ago, still afraid of the spider in the dining room.
And the roofer never did get back to me.
If you have any experience of successful therapies, home ‘remedies’, or any other words of advice re spiders or arachnophobia, I would be delighted to hear them. I am determined not to let this blight my life at this time of year!
Update
Malcolm didn’t make it home last night. He had a comfy night in the car with Rosie. I had a beer from the vestibule…
He arrived this morning, and I heard shuffling noises downstairs from the safety of my bedroom. I hadn’t been brave enough to check the situation. A message with a photo of Rosie and he in the car. Not the picture I was looking for. Then a few moments later:
The blessed evidence.
And another…
Malcolm’s not a spider fan either – so this is even more appreciated. It hadn’t been there when he went into the dining room. It was, however, down the side of the fridge. Requiring a bit of upheaval…
[As a result, we have also fixed the blocked fridge overflow, and hopefully ascertained that the damp patches on this particular wall are most likely evaporation related.]
Malcolm, my hero! 
A few fruits of the season. I’ve made bramble and apple crumbles, crab apple and (donated) marrow jam(ish), which Malcolm more successfully dehydrated into a sweetie fruit leather, stewed apples from a kind friend and there’s still lots to eat! We have a recipe for haw-ketchup, not for me though!
