Hi, my name is Barbara and I'm scared of the dark. "Hiiiiiii Barbara!"

So, I'm 39 years old and yes, I am still scared of the dark.  Admitting I have a problem at my weekly SCA (that's Scaredy Cats Anonymous for those of you just joining the group) may be the first step in recovery but so far it's just made me feel stupid on top of scared. Here's the thing, I'm not scared of an enraged, psycho-freak with a grudge against thirty-something-year-old females with perfect teeth; I'm scared of what I can't see!  Of course, this doesn't explain why, when my husband and daughter are gone, I lock my bedroom door and keep my television on all night, because everyone knows anything non-human can get in no matter what.  Well, the TV is not on alllll night because the stupid thing shuts off at 3 o'clock in the morning!  And, God willing I'm finally asleep, the sudden eerie death-silence jolts me from my slumber only to allow me to freak out and feel around for the remote praying that Cup Cake Wars is still on.  See, I can't watch anything but Food Network at this hour because all the other channels don't cater to yellow-belly adults and continue to play those stupid horror movie previews all the time!  I'm currently debating on starting a petition to only show those previews before five in the afternoon as to give me time to see hours of mindless funny before bed.  Not very adult of me, I know.  Anyway, I would MUCH rather fight a human any day than that thing that comes out of your mirror if you, by accident, say Candy Man three times...which absolutely can happen if you're standing there doing your nighttime face-washing regiment telling yourself that you shouldn't say it thus testing the limits of paranormal activity in the powder room just by thinking it (or did I say it out loud? should I say it a few more times really quick so it loses count? will it get bigger and meaner if I keep trying to undo the horror that I foresee coming?).  See what I mean, I probably told myself at least twice not to say...well, you know, in front of my reflection!  There's no manual about killing something with no face or worse yet, an idea of a face that has mastered the art of climbing up your wall onto the ceiling!!  At least I can throw my bedside lamp at a human and he won't laugh and skitter away to the underside of my bed.  I think I should lay some of the fault of my condition on my Dad.  That's right Daddy, you do not get out of this unscathed!  He LOVED scaring the pants of off his family when we were in our teens.  Believe me, he was great at it too!  Even Mama would get caught up in it!  He'd start dragging his foot behind him, stick his arms straight out and contort his fingers and his lips would do this weird thing (like what Two-Face looked like on The Dark Knight...no lie!) and he'd moan and groan and then slowly, no, not just slowly...it was painfully slow "chase" us.  The three of us, Mama, my sister and myself would run laughing and screaming to the farthest closet in the house knowing that the Monster-Dad would eventually catch up with us.  When he'd get close there wouldn't be any noise; soooooo quiet those last few minutes in the closet.  Shhhhhh...listen, there's nothing; no breathing, no light footsteps...nothing but our own breathing...shhhhhhh.  We knew it was him but he was so fantastical in his role that there was this small part of you, the part that controls your heart beat, that questioned whether...OH NO!  The door knob is jiggling!  Let the girl-screaming begin!!  It was fun, scary, AWESOME, and frightening!  The laughing wouldn't stop for at least ten minutes.  However, I'm quite certain that it left me scarred for life; he took the human part and made it so I'm not scared of that...just the other part that, if in fact he had been turned into that zombie-like-thing (a cute zombie-like-thing, but still...) how in the heck were we supposed to destroy it?!


So you'll totally understand the events that take place when my daughter and I are laying in her bed for a few minutes catching up on the day and she says "Mom, does it look like there's something behind my curtain?" I boldly answer, "No, SillyWillyFunnyPants, what could possibly be behind your curtain?  There are no such things as monsters that can hide behind curtains!" And she, so ever the innocent, says, "Oh, I didn't say a monster...I meant a witch..." The rest of it's a blur but I'm fairly confidant that I said enough to get her to go to sleep, kiss her somewhere on her upper body and get the hell out of that kill zone!  Look, I love her but I'm no dummy; I KNOW what witches can do and I'm positive...almost positive...I think...hope she can run fast. So I'm thinking she has a better chance of NOT freezing up with fear, plus be able to out run something as old as a witch! Right?  High five! < ahem >  Oh, c'mon, if there was a witch behind her curtain she wouldn't have her broom...I have faith that my daughter could run out of her room, down the hall, pound frantically on my door...then find that spare stick-key on the top of the sill when I don't answer, wiggle it around in the tiny hole to jimmy the lock and burst through the door to my room.  Easy-peasy!! And depending on how fast I think she was getting away the first time will determine if I let her in the bathroom willingly or if she should find the stick-key again.  If she was smart she'd still have it on her!  Can I get an Amen?!  Although, one exception for the door to the bathroom to open immediately is if I've absentmindedly said Candy Man once or twice.  I prefer to have someone with me before my face is pulled through my intestines.


Good night!