I have come to believe that I am a fearful person. Not a worrier per say. Fearful.
I have a lot of special types of fears in my life. Take for example my constant fear of being hit in the face. This is a fear founded in real life experience. My babies regularly whack me in the face with toys and books. And on more than one occasion they have bucked and the special hard spot on the back of their cranium has smashed my perpendicular plate of the ethmoid bone (looked that one up, a girl likes to know what exactly has been crushed in her face).
The pain of having a hard little head crash into your nose is acute. It brings tears to your eyes and swears to your lips.
So I live my life with something akin to post traumatic disorder. Constantly flinching when I catch a swift movement in my peripheral vision.
And there's the goo factor. I live in constant fear of what goo I might encounter. Coming across a wet patch of carpet makes me shudder. There's no telling what it might be. If I'm lucky it's just a pool of spit. That's if I'm lucky.
I also have the special fear called nudophobia. Fear of being nude in public. Most phobias are unfounded, but mine is not. My children consider my clothing to be scaffolding. My neckline is the go-to grip used to hoist themselves up. If I wear a skirt, they think I have a brought along an extra blanket for them to pull over their heads. I am forever checking to make sure my boobs aren't exposed and my butt is covered.
So when I say I'm a fearful person, you can see, I'm not just blowin' smoke.
I got issues people.
I'm planning on a lot of therapy later in life.
P.S. It's been really warm and the caged animals have been let out.