The Fear of...

Some of my most vivid memories from early childhood are those of fear. I was reminded of this earlier this morning as I was walking my dog around an unlit, closed-down school in my neighborhood. I was listening to a podcast on parenting (no, I'm not getting ready to be a parent any time soon) and they started talking about if their kids sleep with the doors open or closed. That's when it hit me.

When I was younger, I heard something somewhere about how if you sleep with the door open and the house catches on fire, you'll die quicker. Maybe it meant that smoke could get to you easier or the fire wouldn't be slowed by the door, but it was scary to me at the time. I couldn't sleep with the door open any more, but since the idea of the house catching on fire was new, that scared me too.

I don't know if it's comforting or terrifying to know that my worrisome tendencies went back this far.

I still worry about stuff irrationally. And I know it's irrationally, but I can't talk myself out of it. For example, about a week after I moved into my new house, some weird guy came up and tried to sell me a home security system. Turns out, the company he works for is kind of scam. Some say they even sell your home security unlock codes to burglars.

I didn't buy from him, thankfully, despite his attempt to scare me into doing so. After he left though, I knew this stranger now knew I didn't have a home security system. That didn't leave me feeling too safe, so for a while, I worried about it.

Probably 20 or so years later, and I still do the same sorts of things. No deep meaning or truths to learn from this. Just something that came to mind today I thought I'd get out.