For the past two years, I lived in the basement of a house. While there are massive pros to this such as a cooler atmosphere and more space, there are also massive cons. One of which is VERMIN. 

When I first moved in, I truly had no idea how many rodents and insects were lurking around the basement of my parents' house, the most popular of which were spiders. Now, normally as a rule, I don't really get freaked out by small spiders. I can squish it and move on. But big spiders? Spiders the size of quarters, much less my palm? No, thank you. 

I remember distinctly at first when I would see large spiders in the basement, I'd text my landlord (read: my dad) to come down and kill them for me. I'd avoid that area until I was sure that it was gone and that my basement was free from eight-legged inconveniences.  

That was, until encountering them became more of the norm. 

Over those two years, the more I saw them, the more I started to realize that the spiders were there all the time, whether or not I saw them was a different story. So, over time, I became less startled by them. I got to the point where I'd see a spider scurry across the floor and just shrug and continue on with what I was doing. We could co-exist. He wasn't bothering me and I knew that in just a little bit, I'd come back and he'd be gone. I didn't need to know where he went. In fact, it's better if I didn't.

I even would go as far as to say that my fight or flight receptors are immune to spiders at this point because I was so conditioned to them for so long. 

2020 has metaphorically been one big spider pit.

2020 has been riddled with my biggest fear: uncertainty. 

Lots and lots of inconvenient, spidery uncertainty. 

But because of this, much like my spider friends, I've finally become comfortable with uncertainty. 

For as long as I can remember, uncertainty has been my biggest fear. Aside from my anxiety, I have a personality that very much likes to know the details of things. As a writer and a teacher, I need a well laid plan. Problem is, life honestly doesn't work that way. 

Before the pandemic, I lived under the guise of certainty. There were areas of my life that I felt more comfortable with simply because I felt like I had more control or there was more certainty attached to them.

What ended up happening though was that every single area in which I thought I had certainty suddenly became uncertain:

• My job was put on hold and I was no longer able to feel successful and quite honestly "hide" from life's problems at work. 
• My trip to Disney was canceled. Which is a small thing but not when it's used as an escape from the weight of life's problems. 
• My Master's Degree graduation was canceled indefinitely. Which I'd been working toward for two years and by that point, was all I felt I had left to look forward to. 

My whole perspective was flipped and here's the emergent truth: Nothing in this world is actually certain.