No matter what anyone tells you, ladybugs are not good luck. They are actually gifts from the devil. There have been numerous situations that led me to this belief over the years.
When I was nine, I was taking a shower and minding my own business when a swarm of ladybugs (two) joined me. I just remember screaming because ladybugs were in my hair. The kicker of this: my cousins were babysitting me, so they had to save me from the flock of bugs attacking me (again, two).
It was like the scene from “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark” when the spiders broke through the skin of the girl with the red spot (it was not).
That house was a ladybug hotspot. They would break through the windows and sit on the frames, it was absolutely disgusting. The bathroom, kitchen and bedrooms were covered in little red hellions. Let me just say, I did not complain when my parents told us we were moving.
The ladybug curse did not follow us to our next home but as I got older, my grandmother convinced me that ladybugs could bite. She claims, to this day, that she has been and continues to get bit by ladybugs. Now, I just imagine a little bug with little teeth hunting me down when I sit outside over the summer.
When I think about ladybugs, I don’t go into a fight-or-flight response with a quick heart rate and shortness of breath. When I think about ladybugs, I feel them everywhere.
It feels like they’re crawling in my hair, inside my ears and down my back. My feet and legs feel unstable as if I’m going to fall off a cliff.
A fear of ladybugs isn’t something that really affects my everyday life – most people who know me aren’t even aware I have this irrational fear.
There was one time when my friend, her sister and I were running through a wide-open field, taking photos and watching the sunset, when all of a sudden, my friend’s sister had a humongous ladybug on her back.
I freaked out.
I mean this thing was massive. We actually looked at the grass and noticed hundreds of these bugs on the field (this is not an over-exaggeration). We boogied out of there so fast because I was not okay. I think I showered at least three times that night to make sure the feeling of bugs go away.
We researched and researched and could not find what these bugs were. Ultimately, we kept the name I decided on: mutant ladybugs.
These friends probably don’t even remember this day – we haven’t talked in a few years. I remember every second, and I wish it wasn’t because of the ladybugs, but it is.
I wish I could end this by explaining my growth, but I cannot.
While writing this, I am trying not to cry or freak out every time my hair touches my shoulder. Irrational fears are irrational, but I feel like I have provided enough backstory to defend my hatred for ladybugs, no matter the shape or size.
