Fight or Flight or

You’ve heard of that “Fight or Flight” instinct, right?

Well, somewhere in my instinctual wiring, things got a little crossed. Maybe one of the divine designers of the universe was suffering from color blindness and plugged my blue wire into the green spot and vice versa.

When I feel like I’m in real physical danger, (like it sounds like there is a serial killer or a velociraptor in my living room, hunting me down in the middle of the night) I freeze. I lie quietly in my bed and patiently wait to die. If I were standing up and thought I heard a Zombie coming up behind me, my knees would collapse and I would sink to the floor, and patiently wait to die. (See a trend yet?) No Fight. No Flight. It’s almost as if my whole being is resigned to the idea that I will neither be able to out-fight or out-run a predator, so I might as well spend my time praying that death will come to me mercifully and swiftly. Some of my friends call me a “fainting goat.” These are my crueler friends, the ones that delight in sneaking up behind me and making a startling noise, the ones that laugh at me when I cover my ears and drop to the floor. There’s a tiny part of me that hates these friends…

Fight or Flight kicks on for me though when I feel that I’m in emotional danger. I’ll be the first person to break-up with someone because I don’t expect them stick around anyway. I Fight. I push them away and if they don’t push back, I’m done.  It’s always easier to be the dumper than the dumped.

Flight always happens after one of these Fights.

Before I’m emotionally invested, I run. I’m not playing the game of “I’ll run and you can chase me” because it’s fun (even though it really can be fun….sometimes). I’m running in the opposite direction and fast because I have baggage. Luckily, my baggage is a matching set. It’s a well-put together assortment of suitcases and garment bags that share the common themes of infidelity and dishonesty. I come complete with the “Trust Issues” collection in Burberry Plaid.

In life, I put on the guise of a fighter. I sleep with a can of hairspray on my night stand, just in case. Of course, I seriously doubt my organic, soy-based styling product would do any damage to a prowler’s eyes. Really, I’m a runner – when it comes to emotional intruders, anyway. When it comes to the threat of a real-life physical intruder, I’m a “Freezer.”

Hm. Maybe I should consider upgrading the beagle for a doberman.

The pictures from our mini-photo-shoot were so cute, I couldn’t pick just one. Here’s the rest:



About ermodi

i like champagne and nachos. i watch people’s mouths move when they talk to me and judge if they are a good kisser i like to write with fine-tip Sharpies because i think it makes me look confident i bite my nails i think doing the dishes is a very lonely chore i think “autumn” is the prettiest word in the English language. i believe in love – or, at least something that resembles love, but i don’t trust this idea of forever.
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One Response to Fight or Flight or

  1. T says:

    Huck. So debonair.

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