I love games.
Any type of game, I’m down to play.
You want to play UNO? Sure! Sign me up and prepare for tables to possibly be flipped over after I hit you with the combo I like to call “reverse, skip, and pick up four…loser! “And, yes, I am dabbing after I eloquently say that line, pissing off everyone at the table while I eat Doritos.
Ha! So many images appear in my mind as I look back on the many family game nights that have ended with words I can’t repeat.
I’ve always loved board games. Recently, I’ve started to become someone whose love of video games has grown tremendously. Growing up in the late 1900s (aka, the olden days, according to my son), my family had every new console that came out.
I remember the year we got our Super Nintendo. The hours spent trying to not lose Yoshi or mess up and become tiny Mario while taking turns playing “Super Mario World” are some of the memories I still cherish from my childhood. I sucked at the games, fyi. I was never much of a Super Mario fan. The acceleration of the music that plays -as the clock is winding down- always made me anxious; and truthfully, had me weeping, a lot.
I never understood where the exact cause of my tears came from. Was it because I never seemed to be able to complete a stage without either dying from falling, or the clock running out? Or was it the anticipation of the time running out that made my chest tighten; my then breathing become shallow; and those tears, that I previously mentioned, to flood down my face; that led to me becoming afraid to play Super Mario World.
Growing up, I was the Chuckie Finster of my house. Well, maybe not just my house. We can say the entire neighborhood, school, and even my Girl Scout troop; I was the one who didn’t dare step a foot near danger.
It always amuses people when they find out that I love horror movies, horror video games, and Halloween (a lot), and yet I sleep with a nightlight, dressing as if Miss Frizzle and your librarian had a baby, all while being deathly afraid of a lot of things.
I’m not kidding.
I have an entire list of things I’m afraid of: Birds, dinosaurs, the dark, heights, large bodies of water, mascots, clowns, all types of insects and reptiles, Tiny Tim (not the character from “A Christmas Carol”), and so much more. The list is as eclectic and strange as I am.
It’s October. Which means scary is the energy of the season.
But first, I must say: candy corn is disgusting. And if you enjoy it, I’m concerned about you and your mental state.
Phew, there, I said it.
Also, Peeps are gross too…but that’s for another day and another time.
If you are somewhere in the world where the seasonal climate reflects true autumnal vibes, you’re lucky…. And you stink.
I’m kidding.
Or am I?
I live in the Houston area. As the rest of the U.S. is enjoying PSL season (pumpkin spice latte season for our international readers), all cozied up in their sweaters, I’m doing the same. Instead of being cozy, I’m sweating profusely and questioning my sanity for wearing my knit cardigans.
And before you say it, “Raeshan, why don’t you just take the cardigan off?” I say, “Give me knit cardigans or give me death!” Maybe that’s a tiny bit dramatic. But hey, what can I say? I love the fall! Even if it’s hotter than the 9th circle of hell, I’m going to live my best fall life, drenched in sweat, while I wear my flannel over my dresses.
One of my favorite parts of October is the spooky vibes we get to experience.
Houston used to have an amusement park that held its own spooky-led activities during the fall. Astroworld-the former amusement park-would host “Fright Fest” every year, and I was there to enjoy every moment of it. Which tends to make me laugh, because I think about paying for admission to an amusement park when I didn’t ride a single rollercoaster.
Ever!
I’ve always had a fear of heights… uhm… I STILL have a fear of heights. At the age of 39 (and some change), the idea of getting on a rollercoaster sounds just about as appealing as giving birth without an epidural.
Trust me, I gave birth 18 years ago, and you can bet I was immediately asking the nurses: “So, um, when do you shoot me up with the good stuff?” No way was I going to give birth without making sure I was numb from the waist down.
This year has presented me with numerous opportunities to not just face fear but become comfortable with being afraid while choosing to proceed forward anyways. Living with OCD, anxiety, and depression is like living with a cast of characters who love to play their own version of “SAW” called the ‘what if?” game.
“What if you die?”
“What if your son dies?”
“What if everyone you love dies?”
“What if you get laughed at? Which always sounds like the mom’s voice in the movie “Carrie”, when she says, “They’re all going to laugh at you, “while trying to warn her before the ill-fated prom.
“What if you fail?” That’s the one I hear all day long.
Just like the list of fears, the list that the “what if?” game pulls from are infinite. Fear is something that never goes away; we become acquainted with it the same way you do an unwanted house guest. This October, I’m challenging myself to be brave beyond the gameplay in “The Walking Dead” series on my Xbox.
I want to challenge you to not allow the “What If?” game to win another round in your life. I say we Uno-reverse and tell ourselves, “What if it works out?” Let’s beat fear at its own game, together.
This was written by our contributing writer, Raeshan Hart.
Image Source: Pexels, john A. D
Leave a Reply