I was trying to summon up the courage to dispose of a dead shrew-mouse-vole-thing (couldn’t focus long enough to tell) that the cat brought into the sitting room via the cat-flap. I threw a saucepan over it and ran from the room shrieking, then posted as much on my Facebook page, saying,
“PLEASE don’t tell me it’s only natural or she was bringing me a gift Just tell me what scares you so that I can feel less ridiculous OR send me fortifying encouragement OR offer to come over and get rid of the rigor-mortis-rodent that lies in repose on my particularly nice Oriental carpet…” words to that effect.
I was lucky enough to receive all sorts of fortifying comments, but one in particular from a dear friend in London via Australia really struck a chord with me.
We had joked about all the terrifying insects and beasties that render most people useless except Aussies because they grow up getting used to dealing with them.
Karen pointed out that I get up and speak with ease but although I think she’s pretty good at presenting already, she said she was petrified of it and still learning to do it; “so we all have our own “Mouse Moments.”
She reminded me to take that fearlessness that I have when I stand up in front of an audience of thousands and direct that to one little mouse.
Earlier I helped someone see that they need to spend more time on their fitness or end up finding the time to spend away from work and family when they fall seriously ill. The fear was very real about taking time out but I helped them to see that they would be likely to lose far more than time if their health failed.
Your personal Mouse Moment might be the immediacy of birds, heights or things that go bump in the night. Your mouse moment might be the longer-term fear of not being good enough, your partner’s infidelity, or heart failure.
So what did I do about the shrew-mouse-vole-thing? Well, naturally as is fitting for this age of social media, I took a photo. Then, after a (reasonable) amount of fuss making and an (unreasonable) amount of nigh-on hysterical laughter at the absurdity of my behavior, on went the disposable gloves; out came the fire tongs and the poor little creature was flung under a bush. Of course, I felt like an incredibly triumphant She-Rah Warrior Princess of Power as a result.
The thing is we all have Mouse Moments. So the question is what are you going to do about yours?