so yeah i’m 16 and a girl and i live on a farm, which sounds cute until you realize it also means mice, like a ridiculous amount of mice, and they are everywhere all the time and i swear they know when i’m already stressed. i’ve been scared of them for as long as i can remember, like heart racing, hands shaking, full panic mode when one runs across the floor. my family thinks it’s hilarious, especially my brothers, and even my parents do that little laugh like oh here we go again. i try to be polite about it and not yell, but sometimes it really hurts. last week one ran out from behind the feed bags and i jumped on a chair and everyone laughed for like five straight minutes. i know they’re tiny and probably more scared of me, people always say that, but my brain just doesn’t care. it feels embarrassing being scared of something so small, especially when you grow up around animals and mud and all that. sometimes i wonder if living on a farm automatically means you’re supposed to be fearless, like cows are fine and spiders are fine and mice should be fine too, but they are not fine to me. do you ever feel like your fear defines you more than you want it to?

i really want to change though, and that’s the part i don’t tell my family because they’d tease me even more. i don’t want to be the girl who screams every time a mouse shows up, even if it’s kind of who i’ve always been. i’ve tried little things, like watching them from far away when my dad is around, or not immediately running out of the room when i hear scratching. once i stayed still for like ten whole seconds while one ran across the kitchen, which felt like a huge deal to me, even if no one else noticed. my mom said i did good, in a calm nice way, and that helped more than she probably knows. i keep telling myself fear isn’t permanent, it’s more like a habit you can slowly unlearn if you’re patient. sometimes i even think the mice are just part of the farm doing their mouse business and i’m the weird one barging into their space. it sounds silly but that thought actually calms me down a bit. i still hate when my family jokes, but i try to remind myself they don’t mean to be cruel, they just don’t understand how real it feels to me 🐭

the other night i was alone in the barn and i heard that familiar scuffling sound and my first instinct was to run, but i stopped myself and took a breath and told myself i was safe, even though i really didn’t feel like it; i didn’t see the mouse, but i also didn’t panic, and that felt like progress. i’m trying to be hopeful and gentle with myself because being mean to myself never helped anyone. i think one day i might even be able to pick something up knowing a mouse could be nearby and not freak out, and that thought actually makes me smile. i know change takes time, especially with fears that live in your body and not just your thoughts. i wish my family would cheer me on instead of laughing, but maybe once they see me improving they will. until then i’ll keep trying, one small step at a time, and maybe my story can remind you that it’s okay to be scared and still want to be brave, right?

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