Goodbye, everything

I always seem to feel better after talking to Dr. Witt.  It’s weird, because despite my usual aptitude in creepily finding what people look like before I meet them I had absolutely no idea what she would look like, no thanks to Google Images.  (She showed up mostly as old white women, but I held out hope that she would actually be the scantily clad yoga instructor brunette splashing water on her extremely smooth and likely scrumptious face).  In any case, to my surprise, I don’t think I’ve been so initially reluctant to talk about myself, but I felt like I knew this woman for at least four years.  Even though this Friday, our last session before she leaves CAPS, will only have been our fourth time.

I ended up telling her about Ariadne, my pet spider that I adopted (read: captured) this past week.  Again, I think I went out on this impulse probably because I just missed having something to take care of.  I guess I never really saw myself as a nurturing type per se, but I really have to say that I learned that I can be a pretty caring person (at times).

photo (1)

Ariadne and a little bit of apple that I bit off.  I hope she didn’t mind my saliva all up on that apple.

photo (2)

This is many days later, don’t remember how many.  For those apple decay experts, maybe you can tell me.  I started to get worried because Ariadne wouldn’t eat.  To be fair, I think if someone trapped me in a pit-like prison and threw down a chunk of meat the size of my body, I probably wouldn’t eat it too.  On second thought, isn’t that what happened to Batman?

photo (3)

So yesterday, I started to get more worried.  At around 9 am, I noticed that Ariadne was still sleeping, that lazy butt.  I poked her with a stick to wake her up because she would usually wake up by then and would love (read: probably be terrified by) to play our little morning game of tag (read: frantically running around the cup while I less frantically tried to pet her with a stick), but she seemed way more lethargic than usual.  I had tried to open the lid for a bit each day to let fresh air in, but I guess all the stress eventually got to her.

* * *

Dr. Witt’s had actually endorsed my keeping a pet (even with knowledge of my horrible track record of taking care of things).  I think it was definitely partly because she felt that it brought out my nurturing side, but she also mentioned how in essence, creating a little world for Ariadne, with her mansion that I never got around to creating, was an apt microcosm of the reconstruction and rebuilding that was and is still going on right now in my life.

Two final observations:

I really wanted to take care of Ariadne.  I actually had a lot of things planned out.  I kept telling myself, alright, when you’re a bit less busy, go to Petco and buy some insects.  If anything, just go outside and wave your hand around, and given that you’re in Pinnacle Ridge, you’ll probably have hit three moths in around four seconds.  I cleaned out my trail mix container, and planned to drill holes in the top and fill it up with dirt or maybe some felt.  Perhaps I’d even put the container on top of a foam board that I would find at Michael’s (insert Southern crafty equivalent here) and put a little mailbox in the front.  But I never got around to it.  Just like I never got around to writing this blog post until now.  Just like I never got around to so many things (including outlining!) because I was afraid.  Not that it was going to be bad, but that it might not be perfect.  But rarely in life will all the circumstances line up in just the way you want.  Rarely will conditions be 100% perfect.  And because it seems that everything has an expiration date, everything in this world has such a limited window of opportunity, maybe the best thing to do isn’t actually the best thing.  Maybe it’s as simple as saying yes and trusting that things will turn out okay.

Yes, I really wanted to take care of Ariadne.  Short end of the Starbucks stick, I decided to let Ariadne go.  Aside from my obvious incompetence in arachnid care, she just didn’t seem that happy, and I ended up feeling bad for her.  And in this case, the right thing to do was to let her go.  And so she crawled out, a little bit wobbly, but scampered away into the Pinnacle Ridge forest.  I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again or recognize her if I do, but there is some solace in remembering what she taught me about myself.  Godspeed, Ariadne.


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