I’ll Give Ya Something To Cry About
When I was younger and fairly melodramatic, my Grandma Root used to use a phrase that went a little like this: “You want to cry about *insert silly reason for my pre-teen tears*? I’ll give ya something to really cry about!”
It was her silly way of bringing me back to reality and reminding me that my problems are only as big as I make them out to be. There are, in fact, way bigger problems than the ones I create in my own head.
Fast forward 13 years: I’m still melodramatic, I still want to cry about many things, and I’m still re-learning the same damn lesson. Except this time, Grandma wasn’t the one reminding me– the world was.
The Back-Story
Yesterday was just my fourth day in Iceland, and it also happened to be the first day I didn’t have any soccer commitments. Every day up until then had been incredible (you’ll hear more about this in my Week 1 Recap post coming later this week). But on Sunday, I was in a bit of a slump.
A perfectly reasonable slump– might I add– for someone who just traveled to a new country and immersed herself in an unfamiliar culture to pursue a dream that equally excites and scares the shit out of her. When I chose this path, I knew I was going to have days where I just felt “off,” and this was one of them.
Being the wise(ish) 23-year-old that I am, I know myself fairly well. The outdoors and movement are two of my favorite medicines, and they’re also readily available here in Iceland. So, I decided to go for a long walk by the water to boost my mood. I found a trail at the edge of a golf course overlooking the water and mountains. It was remote, scenic, peaceful: exactly what I needed.
Little did I know, the world was waiting to serve me a piping hot dose of Grandma’s medicine at the 2 mile mark of my “perfect” walk.
The Horror-Story
I was hitting my stride, 40 minutes deep into a podcast about “finding 5 seconds of peace,” when I noticed a giant sign with several photos of birds on it. I stopped to read it, as any indication of birds immediately sets off alarms in my head. If you don’t know this about me already, I am DEATHLY AFRAID OF BIRDS. This fear is a central piece of my identity– so much so that I sometimes use it as my fun fact when I’m introducing myself to a big group.
“Hi, my name is Meghan Root and my biggest fear is birds.”
Anyway– I couldn’t read the sign because it was written in Icelandic, so I decided to forge ahead on my journey. Just a few minutes later, I noticed a white bird circling overhead. I took a deep breath, remembered that I have (what other people refer to as) an “unreasonable” fear of birds, and tried to pretend I wasn’t being circled like prey. And that’s when shit hit the fan.
Out of nowhere, the bird came DIVE-BOMBING toward my head. Unable to contain my terror, I started sprinting full speed down the trail, screaming at the top of my lungs. In a twisted game of cat-and-mouse turned bird-and-human, I was being chased by a very. angry. bird. I crouched over, ducking as I ran in an attempt to dodge the bird’s flapping wings. I ripped my sweatshirt from my waist and started furiously flailing it in the air in an attempt to push the screeching bird away from my head. The bird and I carried on with this circus act for about 300 yards until it finally decided I was no longer a threat and retreated to a nearby tree.
My tear-filled eyes searched the trail for someone– ANYONE– to acknowledge what had just happened to me. But before I could catch my breath, another bird came darting at me.
This time, I cut back toward where I came, hoping that I could somehow escape whatever personal hell I accidentally entered. I sprinted harder, screamed louder, flailed my sweatshirt in the air more furiously– and the same scene unfolded twice more until I was finally out of danger.
The only remaining problem was that I was still a mile and a half from my car and deeply disturbed by what just happened. I tied my sweatshirt around my head, attempted to stifle my tears and shaky breath, and awkwardly walk-jogged back to my car– ducking to the ground every time a bird flew within a 50-foot radius.
Bikers and golfers zipped by me– serving soft smiles and IGNORING THE FACT THAT I WAS JUST ASSAULTED BY THREE BIRDS ON THIS VERY TRAIL.
As soon as I reached safety (my car), I Facetimed my mom and let out a half-laughing, half-crying, 40-minute SOB that I’d been fighting off. I couldn’t believe this was real life.
The Aftermath
Once I was done crying, I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of the entire situation. There I was, trying to find something to ease my anxiety and help me get out of my own head. For goodness’ sake, I was listening to a podcast about FINDING PEACE. And what did I get instead? A 30-minute series of attacks from my greatest nemeses.
At the end of the day, I guess I got the result I originally set out for: I wasn’t upset about being far from home or having an “off” day anymore. Sure, I was petrified (and will likely suffer long-term consequences from this incident), but at least I wasn’t bogged down in my thoughts any longer.
Looking back, Grandma Root was right. When you think you have it bad, you could always have it worse. You could always be the person being tormented by evil birds on a random walking path alongside a golf course in Mosfellsbaer, Iceland.
Thank you, world, for giving me something to really cry about.
Afternote
If you can’t quite picture the attack based on my description, try watching this: https://youtu.be/9hXkXBMcO5Q