My husband doesn’t understand my love for spiders. Or the fascination I have for them. I don’t know that I can fully explain it myself, but I’ve always had a thing for them.
I do a catch and release with spiders in the house. I can sit and watch them for hours, especially when they are spinning a web. I like that they are predators and I have a healthy fear as I don’t want them crawling on me. I like to watch from afar.
In some Native American cultures seeing a spider means change, either an outward one or an inside one. I’ve discovered that most of the time it is an inner change I’ve made when a spider makes its presence.
I believe all creatures are spiritual creatures and gifts from God, so really it is just God showing me part of Himself through the spiders I see. A way we communicate, if you will.
Three times during my marriage, I’ve begun to have doubts as to why I have this relationship with spiders and if there was something wrong with me. These are at the same time that my husband voiced his feeling of not being able to understand, thought it was weird and can’t figure out why I don’t kill spiders.
It caused a lot of doubt for me because we didn’t think the same way and that it wasn’t until halfway through our marriage that he voiced his feelings.
I actually had to do a great deal of soul searching as I felt my belief was being threatened in some way and that there was something wrong with me.
One night a few months ago a spider was crawling on the floor and I actually felt fear. I’ve never been scared of spiders before. But I felt it this time, right in my gut.
Then I began to question why I caught it in a jar and put it outside.
I suddenly felt stupid for doing so. What the hell is wrong with me?
Why couldn’t I just kill it like a normal person?
I went back and forth with this thinking for some time.
I talked to God. I tossed and turned. I asked him to change me.
The next spider I saw….fear rose up..and I stomped on it.
Suddenly my joy for spiders were gone. I felt nothing.
I pushed all my feelings for those 8 legs as far to the back as possible.
Finally I had to talk to my husband about all this.
I knew it wasn’t him or what he said, but that I instantly thought I was wrong.
Any disapproval I’ve ever gotten had made me feel wrong, wrong, wrong.
And wrong means to succumb to someone else’s will.
And then I topple.
I’m not good enough.
Not pretty enough.
Not smart enough.
Not enough of anything.
And it tears me down to a slave level that I’ve lived for half of my life.
Sexual abuse. Molested. Tortured. Brainwashed.
And suddenly, I am here again.
And the devil will do anything to pull me under with him.
So I kept praying. And remembering over and over the joy that spiders give me.
And I started to believe again.
They are my friends.
They have helped me for a long time. In the hardest times. I was never afraid.
I almost was going to change my Gravatar picture, but God said no, wait.
And he made them precious to me again.
I know it might sound strange to have this whole PTSD moment with spiders, but if you think about it, we’ve all lost something we love because people take it away from us. Don’t lose what you have that makes you who you are.
In my case, I’m loving spiders again. ❤