The Diary Collaboration question for May requires us to name our top three fears.
This makes me feel horribly squeamish and unsettled. I don't like to think about what frightens me. I work hard at overcoming my fears but there are some that just don't bear much examination, whether if they're irrational or perfectly reasonable. Having to discuss them voluntarily makes me feel trapped, breathless, wary of the repercussions. This is not a good idea, not a good idea at all. But of course, it's only text on a screen. It can't hurt just to talk about it. Right?
The fact is, I'm afraid of lots of things in a low-grade, generalized way. I can fret for days about the possibility of having to tell someone something they don't want to hear, or stare at the walls being terrorized by the enormous amount of debt I'm in. I am perfectly capable of fearing certain elected officials and their hawk-like sensibilities (the era of Ronald Reagan was one long fearfest for me, closely followed by that of George Bush. I seriously considered leaving the country). But for real, genuine, gut-wrenching fright, nothing compares to hearing an unusual sound late at night when I'm all alone. If the lights even flicker when they shouldn't my heart jumps violently in my chest. I am terribly afraid of being burglarized.
It almost happened once when I was in high school. I was home for the day with a cold, and all alone except for my poodle. We were upstairs when the dog scrambled to her feet, ran to the top of the stairs, and began to bark hysterically. I heard the sound of our sliding door being ever so quietly opened. I freaked out completely and started screaming at the top of my lungs that I was calling the police and whoever it was better get out right now. I couldn't believe how deep and low my voice was; I didn't sound like a high school kid at all. They got out: I heard the sound of running footsteps and our back gate slamming open. The dog stopped barking, and I burst into tears. The experience completely violated my sense of safety in my own home. My parents weren't sure if it really happened since I was an overwrought teenager and prone to exaggeration, but as it turned out it really was burglars. The police apprehended a pair of thieves working the neighborhood about two days after my encounter. So even though I never saw a thing I am hyper-aware that it can happen anywhere, any time. To this day I can't really relax when I'm by myself unless all the doors are locked.
I also have a lurking fear of bees. I pretend I'm not worried by most insects, and I've even casually allowed non-stinging insects to get within a hundred yards of me without getting out the Raid(tm), but let a bee come anywhere near me and I turn to jelly. Shrieking, gibbering jelly. I run away, I jump out of moving cars, I flap my hands uselessly. There is no way me and a bee are going to coexist peacefully. Bees sting viciously. Bees buzz malevolently. Bees move in scary, mindless patterns, and all I can think of is how frighteningly alien they are and how much their stings hurt. Don't tell me they don't sting unless they're threatened, or that running away just attracts their attention. I know all that. I can't stop myself. I hate bees, and I cannot stop my primitive instinct to get the hell away. I am afraid of bees.
There is one irrational fear for which I have absolutely no personal experience on which to base my reaction. You can kind of understand the above fears, after all. Bees have stung me, thus I'm afraid of them. Strangers have entered my home with intent to steal, and thus I'm afraid it might happen again someday. But this fear is just pure free-form anxiety gone horribly wrong. I'm afraid of chemicals I can't see.
This mostly takes the form of being terrified to take a pill for anything. I have worried so much over taking a Tylenol that I've thrown it up. I have debated for hours over whether or not to try a vitamin in case it kills me because I have an allergy I didn't know about. (I have no known allergies, but hey! You can't be sure!) I still haven't tried Alleve, a new and apparently better pain reliever than Advil, simply because I don't know what reaction I'll have to it. Does this seem stupid? I don't think it's stupid. Okay, I think it's a little bit stupid. Of course, I used to be much worse as a kid. I would hold my breath trying not to breath in case there was some kind of natural gas leak and I breathed it and died instantly. I used to lie rigid with fear at night because I was worried that the lights under the door of my bedroom were really the light from flames and we were all going to die horribly. Basically, I have a vivid imagination which has no need of scary movies or books to send myself into a tizzy. I genuinely don't understand why anyone enjoys scary movies. But maybe that's because while everyone else realizes it's just a movie once the lights go up, I wander around in a daze with a whole new set of things to be afraid of. You just never know when a cop from the future is going to turn up trying to kill you because you're going to be the mother of a certain person. I mean, you just don't know, right? Right?
Right?!?
