In 2010, I began living in a lovely building in Houston that once temporarily housed the famous Marilyn Monroe. It was an amazing, older high rise converted into rentals that was purchased by a group out of Boston. I was able to rent a charming one-bedroom apartment on the 9th floor at an affordable price one block from my yoga studio. The building had some issues but being a patient person (most of the time anyway), I knew that I could manage a repair here and there without too much frustration. I loved how each apartment was unique – no two apartments in the building were alike and was considered a Houston icon overlooking all of River Oaks and the Memorial Park area.
I upgraded my apartment and moved into a two-bedroom directly next door after one year; and then two years later, I upgraded to an even larger apartment again. My new roommates and I rented one of the larger apartments on the 15th floor that had four bedrooms, three baths, and the most fantastic view of all of Houston. It took nearly two full days to move all my stuff from the 9th floor, but it was genuinely thrilling to call the new 3000 square foot, beautiful apartment, my new home.
When I finally moved the last load up into the new space, I decided it was time to relax and take the dogs outside to our back courtyard on the first floor. I poured a massive glass of pinot noir, and the dogs and I made our way down the elevator to the first floor. The elevator doors opened, and the dogs ran down the hallway past the fitness center and mailboxes, stopped at the door, and waited for me to catch up. I opened the door, the dogs ran outside, and just as I was about to join them, something caught my eye on the ground. There in the doorway was a huge cockroach staring directly at the opening from the outside. The dogs never even flinched and ran out to do their business. I quickly shut the door so that the cockroach could not come into the building. Much to my surprise, the roach flattened its body and came in from under the door anyway. I must admit, I was impressed.
I stood there inside the door staring at the roach now inside the building, still holding my large-pour glass of wine in my right hand. The cockroach turned left and ran up the wall. My thoughts were not kind. I imagined how many baby roaches this could produce and felt stirring emotions of confliction since I have major aversion to cockroaches. This cockroach is lucky, I thought. I have reverence for all life forms and didn’t have it in me to end its life like many people I know probably would. Be as it may, my thoughts were not very respectful and pure in that moment, and I have never liked cockroaches. They give me the creeps.
I stood there with my impure thoughts, holding my wine without yet even a sip, and watched the cockroach be a cockroach. Once it arrived close to the ceiling, it turned and appeared to look at me. It then moved halfway back down the wall until we were eyelevel. We found ourselves in a stand-off.
Suddenly, in a split second, the roach flew from the wall and into my face. Startled, I screamed, jumped, and…
The very large glass of pinot noir poured all over the top of my head, covered my face, and drenched my clothes. I had poured the entire glass of wine onto my head. I froze in disbelief by what had just happened.
Standing in the hallway in shock dripping with dark red wine, I thought, “Oh my God, what if someone comes and sees me like this?” The wine was all over the wall, the mailboxes behind me, the floor, and my clothes. How would I explain what just happened if someone came into the area from the garage entrance, which was right there, and saw me like this?
I left the dogs outside and ran into the public bathroom down the hall. When I saw myself in the mirror, I stood there, shocked by my dreadful appearance – some crazed, deranged person covered in wine. The visual of everything that had just happened flashed through my mind.
I busted out laughing, harder than I had laughed in a very long time. It was unbelievable, to me, it seemed so evident that the cockroach had sensed my thoughts. He clearly showed me that size does not matter when it comes to showing power. I was terrified of that tiny little roach. I also realized the cockroach was probably just as afraid of me. Why else would the little fella do that?
I washed as much of the wine off as I could from my clothes and hair, knowing I had to let my dogs back into the building from the empty courtyard which I still had never made it to.
Walking out of the restroom, back toward the hallway leading to outside, I paused to see where the roach had gone. The cockroach was in the middle of the glass window of the gym halfway down the hall. It felt like it was waiting for me to see what I would do. My dogs were at the back door staring at me. Let us back in mommy, why aren’t you out here with us?
I realized I would have to pass the cockroach to let my dogs back inside the building. In that moment, it was the longest hallway imaginable. I became filled with fear and hesitated to move. Would it attack me, again?
I had to muster up the courage somehow. My dogs wanted to come back inside and considering I am their human who takes care of, protects, and feeds them, it was my duty to face my fear of the cockroach and let them back into the building.
I took a deep breath, gathered up the fake-it-till-you-make-it courage and scurried past the roach. I opened the back door quickly so all three of us, dogs and human, could run down the hall back to the elevator. I entered the elevator with such sweet relief, turned around to punch my floor, and saw the unmoved cockroach glaring at us as the doors shut to the elevator – a final stare-off. The elevator proceeded to take us back up to the safety of the 15th floor. I began laughing when I realized in that night, I had become a cockroach.
Think about it, I scurried past the cockroach as if it were a giant 1000 times my size! It seemed obvious the roach must have felt the same to warrant attacking me that night. Maybe it felt my thoughts. Why else would it attack me? Animals, in general, only attack when they feel threatened. Right?
Upon safely entering my new apartment, I decided to look up the symbolic meaning of the cockroach. I thought perhaps there was a lesson to be learned – Google, “cockroach symbolism,” enter.
The cockroach is one of the most dreaded creatures on the earth. It lives in dark and dirty places. However, the cockroach also has a substantial evolution. They can adapt quickly and survive in the most extenuating circumstances. I read that it can also flatten its body to gain access into cracks and crevices. That explains how it came in through the door! It flattened its body and slid right under it.
The roach symbology also offers the chance to acknowledge having gratitude for our own ability to survive and adapt. They are quick to move and have a strong will to live. They act with precision to protect themselves from danger. The cockroach is a fantastic creature! I then realized how many trials and tribulations I have overcome in my life. I am pretty quick on my feet when faced with adversity. I have survived multiple losses – a husband, a father, grandparents, several dear friends, and many pets over my lifetime. Grief is no stranger to me. I suddenly began to feel an overwhelming appreciation for cockroaches and some gratitude for the little guy who not only taught me a lesson that size does not matter, but that humility is essential as well.
No one saw me standing in the hallway reeking of and drenched from red wine that evening, except for me in my mind’s eye. To this day, I laugh when I think about it when it comes to mind. I felt like Carrie, a young Sissy Spacek in the 1970s hit horror movie, except thankfully lacking and anger-led telekinetic powers and being covered in pig’s blood instead of wine.
I guess you could say I became one with the cockroach that night via an unexpected metamorphosis at 3435 Westheimer Road in Houston, Texas – a place where Marilyn Monroe too once stayed for a short while and maybe once also met one of the roach’s ancestors, who knows! Anything is possible.