Good afternoon my dear readers. Having a good weekend? Or just day in general if you happen to be reading this on a Monday through Friday?
I thought I should post something today even though I don’t have an update on my schedule or an answer to the previous question I asked. Besides, it”s the weekend, and weekends deserve something light. Something I can look forward to writing instead of me just ranting and spilling my stresses or whatever.
Therefor, I’ve decided to start a routine weekend posting called #StorytimeSaturdays! (Yes, I just used a #hashtag)
So each Saturday, instead of telling you what happened this week, I will tell you a story.
It’s true that technically telling you about what happened in my life today or yesterday or whenever is technically a story, but for Story Time Saturdays, I will either reach back a little farther and tell you about an interesting story that has happened at least a year ago, or I will make up a story.
This is the first official Story Time Saturday, so in honor of that, it will be a real story.
I had some very irrational fears as a child.
Some of them had some really legitimate reasons for why I was deathly afraid of them.
One of these totally acceptable fears started when I was two years old. My mom and I were in the bathroom at the mall. I had never really experienced the trauma of automatic flush toilets before then, so I had no idea what was coming.
I was just sitting on the potty, and it flushed! with no explanation, WHILE I WAS SITTING ON IT!!!
I proceeded to slide across the bathroom floor on my knees, and public bathrooms became the epitome of terrifying for the next 5 years.
I wouldn’t use any public bathroom that I wasn’t used to, so, this caused some issues when we were traveling.
My Mom would have to say something like “Yes child, remember, you used this bathroom back 100 miles ago”
Apparently this fear was so severe, that when I was 5 I had to go to a therapist because of it.
And the first one failed to cure me of my fear, and just thought I was so troubled I got sent to a different therapist.
After a time, my parents stopped sending me to a therapist and I got over the fear when I was like 7 or 8.
I’m pretty sure it was a traumatizing length of time for my parents too.
So, readers, I hope you enjoyed my StoryTime Saturday, and I look forward to blogging again.