No Thank You. I Would Rather Freeze To Death

Photo was taken by the author. Lake Ontario in the Mimico Neighbourhood

When I was 10 or 11, I walked home from school to find no one was home. I had no way of getting into my house. I wasn’t yet a latch key kid. I’m pretty sure I became one after this incident.

It was the dead of winter. It was snowing. And it was COLD. I was stuck outside. And I needed to find a place to thaw.

I walked over to a neighbour’s house. I stood to the side of their house, and for what felt like hours, I stood out in the cold, getting colder by the second, working up the courage to ring their doorbell.

I can still recall that afternoon. I go back there every once in a while, to that moment. Ten-year-old me, standing against the fence, teeth chattering, my extremities getting colder by the second, wishing someone would come by and pull me out of this headspace where I didn’t dare to ring my neighbour’s doorbell.

Eventually, I rang the doorbell. And I found myself in a warm home, thawing, thankful I didn’t freeze to death. Yes, I am being dramatic.

I don’t know what pulled me out of my trance. Maybe some part of my brain finally yelled at me and said: you will freeze to death if you stay here! RING THE DOORBELL!

It’s not as if I wanted to freeze to death.

I genuinely believe that what kept me standing against that fence for so long was that I DID NOT WANT TO DISTURB MY NEIGHBOURS!

I was more concerned with the possibility of being an imposition on someone than saving my cold tush. And for some reason, I saw nothing wrong with thinking about others before thinking about myself. I was trained to do so.

Yes, I was that kid. And, yes, I became that adult.

As I type this piece, tears are forming. I guess this is triggering. Or insert any other word my therapist might use, but I quickly forget.

I do a lot less of this now. But I still do it. Because some habits are hard to break.

So, in those moments when I find myself returning to that habit, the one where I worry about being an imposition, fear rejection, and place other people’s needs above mine…I think of 10-year-old me, standing against that fence, getting colder by the second, and I remind her that she matters. A LOT!

She would be happy knowing that something good came out of that memory.

That makes me smile.

And cry.

But happy tears.