My husband and I took a dip in the pool one Wednesday night after dark. It had finally cooled off a tiny bit, so the water was a brisk 90 degrees (if I knew how to add an eye-roll emoji here, I would). My hair was knotted up on the top of my head, but my hair still got a little wet because we were floating and gazing up at the sky, watching for satellites and whatnot.

I was nice and relaxed when I made my way into the house to get ready for bed. I settled down on the toilet and, multitasker that I am, started to unwind my hair knot.

Suddenly, I heard an angry buzz and felt a jolt of electric pain in the palm of my left hand. One of my worst fears came true in the most unexpected way: I was stung by a wasp.

A wasp that had been trapped in my hair.

Or that was STILL trapped in my hair!

I hinged from my hips and flipped my hair forward and down in case the offending wasp or its friends would either succumb to gravity or at least be far away from any more of my flesh. I ran out of the bathroom in a forward fold, screaming for help. I didn’t want to search through my tangled hair to see if my uninvited guest was still there, and I didn’t want to let it loose in the house if it was.

I went through the back door, my flabbergasted husband following, asking what was wrong.

“A wasp was stuck in my hair,” I yelled, “IT MAY STILL BE THERE!”

My brave husband took on the stereotypical husband-duty of dealing with the unwanted insect in stride.

“It’s not in your hair,” he announced after risking his own guitar-playing fingers to search through my tangled mop, “I’ll check the bathroom.”

The wasp met its end after it surprised my husband by landing on his arm as he entered the bathroom.

Now, I’m not sharing this story to share wisdom about how to avoid wasp stings at night or how to fold forward while running through your living room correctly. I’m sharing this story because it’s weird. I’ve spent my entire life afraid of getting stung by a bee or wasp. I worried that I was extremely allergic and wouldn’t know until I had to be rushed to the hospital. I feared that the pain would be more than I could bear. I told myself story after story about how getting stung would be a horrific experience.

I never told myself it would be a strange and somewhat funny experience.

Are you believing the stories you tell yourself without any real evidence that the story is/will be true? Sometimes, our fears get in the way. I’ve been telling myself for decades what a sting would mean for me, and it was none of that.

I’m hoping some people who join my next beginner’s yoga course, Find Your Flow, will uncover the stories that are holding them back, both on the mat and in their lives!

I would love you to join me during this process.

Click here to sign up for the email course + live classes at Great Scott in Wichita Falls.

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