I live in New England, and we’re about to get socked with a major winter blizzard. It’s expected to bring near-hurricane force winds, and up to three feet of snow. About all of this, I am calm and cool. I’ve spent the last day preparing, making sure I have enough groceries, batteries and meds to get me through at least the next week, if the worst happens. I’ve got all that–plus Netflix for binge watching. I have no fear of this blizzard at all.
But here’s what did bring on fear: the thought of asking my landlord for rock salt so that I could de-ice the steps to my apartment. At this time of year, he usually leaves the rock salt out on his porch. Today, he didn’t. My logical mind told me that if I just called him, he’d take care of it. It’s not like I have problems with my landlord. On the contrary, he’s a good friend of mine, and he always takes care of things quickly. I had no reason to be afraid of calling him. But, as I know well, anxiety doesn’t need a reason.
If I had to pin my hesitation down to one thing, it would be this: I wondered if I was bothering him. He must have a lot of things to do himself before the storm. He doesn’t need to hear from little ol’ me. So I didn’t knock on his door or call him. God forbid I should raise my voice in need of something.
It took a good half hour for me to finally realize that, damn it, I don’t want to slip on my steps. And I’m not “bothering” my landlord with a request to salt my steps. It’s pretty damn necessary for winters up here!
Finally, I called him. He wasn’t home, but he left a message. He did more than get the salt out. He salted my steps himself. My fear was completely unnecessary.
Now, I know that I’m as ready as I can be for this big storm–and that I won’t slip on my steps if I go out. It’s still hard for me to ask for any kind of assistance. But maybe after today, it will get a little easier.