I’ve tried for a few days to figure out which way to go with this one- random phobias, life concerns, or things that just make me jump in the dark? I’ll give you a little of each.
- The biggie? That everyone that I know will fall in love and settle down and I’ll be the last single person on earth, doomed to walk the wilderness alone forever and ever, amen.
- Related, that I’ll never get to have children. BC and I had a lovely plan to procreate, but now he’s in love with a lovely, unexpected man who wants nothing to do with children. My eggs aren’t getting any younger. I also fear that this makes my life sound like a very special episode of Will & Grace. Also, because I will have no family, I will die all alone in a crappy Days Inn.
- Being startled in any form. In movies, seeing people get sliced and diced doesn’t scare me, but if someone pops out suddenly, I will jump six feet in the air. I don’t mind that kind of being scared- it’s fun.
- Unknown dogs not on leashes. I know in the rational part of my brain that most of them just want to be my friend and are harmless. Nonetheless, I am five feet tall and I don’t know that your dog doesn’t want to eat my face off for dinner. Put ’em on a leash folks. Yes, that includes your chihuahua. I don’t want to be scared. I really don’t. I want to dash up to strangers’ dogs and toss my arms around them like a normal person. Still, I can’t help knowing that they all want to kill me. Typing this actually makes me shake and my eyes tear up and my throat close. Yes. It’s completely irrational. It could be worse. Until five or six years ago, I couldn’t even be around dogs that belong to people I know. I’ve gotten much better. And it really is an embarrassing and crippling phobia in social settings or when you live in a city and walk everywhere and everyone has a dog. It’s not that I don’t like them. I just can’t help having complete meltdowns when I think I’m about to have my throat slashed open. By the violent fangs of your gentle Labrador retriever with the tennis ball.
- That I’ll never finish writing a novel. I love the poems that I’m working on, but I’ve had the novel I want to write in that “50 pages and a great idea” stage for much too long.
- I’ve covered my slipping on ice and embarrassment fears before. Thanks to reader Oregon Sunshine’s tip, I bought Yak Trax anti-slip doohickeys and they have radically changed my winter life.
- Having to ask my family for money. It’s not that they wouldn’t help me if I needed it. In fact, even when I don’t need it, my mom still tries to slip me money when I come home. I don’t think she can resist the impulse. But I’ve worked since I was 15, even though I didn’t need to. Because for as long as I can remember, I have desperately wanted to be self-supporting. If I could keep a therapist, I’m sure they would have plenty to say about this.
- Water at high speeds– don’t take me water skiing or inner tubing or whitewater rafting. I just don’t like it. I’m a great swimmer and I love to swim. I just don’t want to be dragged through the water at 70 mph or smashed on rocks. This seems reasonable to me.
Things I am not scared of that other people are:
- Spiders- we have a live-and-let-live arrangement. If I see you once, you better crawl away before I see you again.
- Ghosts- real or not, they don’t scare me. Go on with your dead self.
- Dying- I’ve had a pretty full life. While I’d like to do a lot more if I get the 60 years more that my genes suggest, if it was over tomorrow I feel like I’ve really lived.
- Heights- I’m five feet tall. Everything is a height when you’re me.
So, what are you scared of?