Everyday Things Scarier Than Halloween

A commitment to show up and write my truth | Day 304 of 365

Halloween is tomorrow, and somewhere tonight, people are paying good money to walk through a haunted house and get screamed at by a teenager in a mask. I respect the commitment. I just don’t need the ticket. Everyday life keeps handing me things scarier than Halloween, free of charge, no costume required.

If you’ve spent much time around a small child or a long car ride, you probably have a list of your own.

When the House Goes Quiet

Ask any parent what the scariest sound in the house is, and most will tell you it’s silence. Crying, you can find. Laughing usually means everyone is fine. Quiet means someone is very busy with something they shouldn’t be touching.

My daughter once used one of those quiet stretches to take apart an entire light and its fixture at a very nice hotel. This wasn’t a wobbly lamp. It was the whole thing, in pieces, while she looked up at me like a contractor who had finished ahead of schedule.

I knew my limits right away. “I’m not an engineer,” I said, more than once. “I can’t put this back together.” My husband could, and he did, while I kept our little contractor from starting a second project. She handled the demolition. He handled the repair.

Maybe you’ve lived your own version of this. A bathroom drawer emptied onto the floor, or a wall that suddenly had artwork on it. Those moments are funny later, and sometimes even while they’re happening. A curious kid is figuring out how the world fits together, one screw at a time. I’d just appreciate a warning next time.

There was something freeing about saying it out loud, too. Not everything in front of me is mine to fix. Some things belong to the person in the room with the right skills, and handing it over got that light back on the wall a lot faster than me trying would have.

Squirrels With No Sense of Boundaries

New York City squirrels and Disney World squirrels are a breed apart. They’ve studied people. They know exactly when you’ve unwrapped something good, and they don’t wait for an invitation.

You sit down to enjoy a snack, and suddenly you’re in a negotiation you never agreed to have. I would like a little more hesitation from an animal approaching my lunch. Some small acknowledgment that this is, in fact, my lunch.

So I hold my ground now. I keep a firm grip and make eye contact. This lunch is not up for discussion.

If you’ve ever lost half a sandwich to a seagull at the beach, you understand. And honestly, I admire their confidence a little. They see what they want and go after it without apologizing. I just wish they’d go after someone else’s.

The Car Ride That’s Scarier Than Halloween

Then there’s the scare at the top of my list: hours of traffic with a certain grown-up who will remain nameless. (Not my husband. He’s busy putting light fixtures back together.)

This person is somehow almost always the reason we leave late. Then, once we’re crawling along going nowhere, they spend the entire ride complaining about everything under the sun, including how late we are. We’re already stuck. Now there’s commentary. Hours of it.

You might be picturing someone right now. Most of us know a person like this, the one who brings their own storm cloud along and then complains about the rain.

Traffic doesn’t take feedback, and neither does someone who has decided to complain. What I get to choose is how much of it I take on. Their mood can ride along without steering my day. I can let the complaints go by like exit signs and save my energy for wherever we’re actually headed.

That doesn’t make the drive any shorter. It does make the hours mine again.

Underneath the jokes, I know how lucky I am that my scariest stories this week involve a light fixture and a squirrel. I’ll take that kind of fright any day.

So if you’re offering me a choice between that car ride and a haunted house, I’ll take the haunted house.

I can handle someone jumping out and screaming.

It’s the grown-up who won’t stop complaining that concerns me.

Happy Halloween, friends. 🎃

About the Author | Day 304 of 365

I’m a soul-led coach, entrepreneur, mother, and recovering perfectionist, currently navigating healing, uncertainty, temporary chapters, motherhood, work, big transitions, grief, nervous system healing, overstimulation, emotional growth, and the ongoing lesson that life works a whole lot better when we stop trying to carry everything alone. Today that lesson looked like knowing which messes are mine to fix, and letting another adult’s complaining ride along without steering my day.

Day 304 of 365. Still showing up. Still not an engineer. 🐧