I've been gardening for 23 years.
I'm a certified Master Gardener. I teach workshops. I know the difference between a copperhead and a corn snake at 10 feet.
I've pulled up mulch with my bare hands knowing full well there might be a garter snake underneath. Garter snakes are harmless. I know that. I've known it for decades.
So when people at our garden club admitted they were scared of snakes, I was always kind. But privately? I didn't quite get it.
Until August 12th.
I was standing at my front door, about to head out for my morning walk, when a snake poked its head out from under the siding. Just its head. A small garter snake. Completely harmless.
What happened next is hard to describe.
"I heard a sound come out of me a panicked, horrible scream before I'd even processed what I was seeing. Then I was running. On tiptoes. To my car. Because some part of my brain had decided my car was the only safe place on earth."
I sat in the driver's seat. The engine wasn't on. I had no plan.
And then I realized I was crying.
I had been a Master Gardener for 23 years. And I was sitting in my own driveway, crying, because a garter snake had looked at me.
I did what anyone does in a moment of complete humiliation I posted about it on Instagram stories before I could stop myself.
The responses came flooding in. Dozens of them. Women I respected. Smart, capable, outdoorsy women. All saying some version of the same thing:
"Oh my god, me too."
"I thought I was the only one."
"We are not crazy people."
I wasn't alone. But I also wasn't okay.
Because now every time I walked to my front door, my body remembered. My heart would tick up. I'd scan the siding. I'd hesitate before reaching for the handle.
I couldn't logic my way out of it. And believe me I tried.