Phobias
What gives you the heebie-jeebies?
It's a bit strong to call this a phobia, but for me it's the thought of biting into a dry flannel. I've no idea why I'd ever want to or even get the opportunity to do so, seeing as I don't own one, but it makes my teeth hurt to think about it. *ewww*
Tell us what innocent things make you go pale, wobbly and send shivers down your spine.
( , Thu 10 Apr 2008, 13:34)
What gives you the heebie-jeebies?
It's a bit strong to call this a phobia, but for me it's the thought of biting into a dry flannel. I've no idea why I'd ever want to or even get the opportunity to do so, seeing as I don't own one, but it makes my teeth hurt to think about it. *ewww*
Tell us what innocent things make you go pale, wobbly and send shivers down your spine.
( , Thu 10 Apr 2008, 13:34)
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heights, satan, plants and grocery store aisles
I'm afraid of heights. I think that's why I'm a shorty: if I were tall I'd be too scared to stand up. This is a benevolent fear. BUT...
... I have had dreams of epic battles with Satan since I was a child - little me battling futilely against all his malevolent force - and in real life his face would reach out of dishes, plants, my own face in the mirror, laughing at me and taunting me with my inability to defeat him. This had been my life until a few years ago when, hospitalized with severe depression, the doctors recognized schizophrenia when they saw it. Since being heavily medicated I rarely see Old Nick's face leering at me, thank christ, but I have developed many weird phobias:
1: walking down an already occupied aisle in a store. I will weave an endless trail for as long as it takes to find an empty aisle.
2: sitting next to anyone other than close friends. I will cower and shake if I am forced near a stranger. Crowded movies are especial nightmares.
3: answering or using the phone. My friends know that I will not pick up, listen to messages or call them no matter what. These things are done by intermediaries. My friends are very patient (obviously).
4: answer the door. I hide at the sound of knocking.
5: I have a documented fear of a certain town in the San Francisco Bay Area. I can't go near it without hysterically crying, hyperventilating, the works.
6: being with and talking to people makes me cower next to my mom, head down, eyes averted, silent.
Strangely enough, throughout all of this I have not lost my ability to perform on stage. Singing, acting in front of hundreds of people is easy for me. It's real life I have a problem with.
We moved to New Zealand not just for adventure and to escape King Bush the 2nd's reign of terror, but also to be somewhere I was not known as a patient, a mental case, less than I was before. While I'm still medicated (don't worry!) and struggling through my stuff, at least I know that others see me with an eye uncluttered by comparisons with how I used to be but see me as how I am. Somehow that's helping me look at myself that way too - even if just a little bit.
edited to add: sorry if it sounds cheesy :D
( , Tue 15 Apr 2008, 2:03, 3 replies)
I'm afraid of heights. I think that's why I'm a shorty: if I were tall I'd be too scared to stand up. This is a benevolent fear. BUT...
... I have had dreams of epic battles with Satan since I was a child - little me battling futilely against all his malevolent force - and in real life his face would reach out of dishes, plants, my own face in the mirror, laughing at me and taunting me with my inability to defeat him. This had been my life until a few years ago when, hospitalized with severe depression, the doctors recognized schizophrenia when they saw it. Since being heavily medicated I rarely see Old Nick's face leering at me, thank christ, but I have developed many weird phobias:
1: walking down an already occupied aisle in a store. I will weave an endless trail for as long as it takes to find an empty aisle.
2: sitting next to anyone other than close friends. I will cower and shake if I am forced near a stranger. Crowded movies are especial nightmares.
3: answering or using the phone. My friends know that I will not pick up, listen to messages or call them no matter what. These things are done by intermediaries. My friends are very patient (obviously).
4: answer the door. I hide at the sound of knocking.
5: I have a documented fear of a certain town in the San Francisco Bay Area. I can't go near it without hysterically crying, hyperventilating, the works.
6: being with and talking to people makes me cower next to my mom, head down, eyes averted, silent.
Strangely enough, throughout all of this I have not lost my ability to perform on stage. Singing, acting in front of hundreds of people is easy for me. It's real life I have a problem with.
We moved to New Zealand not just for adventure and to escape King Bush the 2nd's reign of terror, but also to be somewhere I was not known as a patient, a mental case, less than I was before. While I'm still medicated (don't worry!) and struggling through my stuff, at least I know that others see me with an eye uncluttered by comparisons with how I used to be but see me as how I am. Somehow that's helping me look at myself that way too - even if just a little bit.
edited to add: sorry if it sounds cheesy :D
( , Tue 15 Apr 2008, 2:03, 3 replies)
christ
you really do have it rough, don't you?
I also avoid occupied aisles, but mostly because the other shoppers are IDIOTS who ram their trolleys into my ankles, loiter in an obstructing manner for hours in front of the spaghetti, and allow their screaming sugar-saturated brats the run of the place. I hate being poor. I bet it's not like that in Waitrose.
( , Tue 15 Apr 2008, 10:48, closed)
you really do have it rough, don't you?
I also avoid occupied aisles, but mostly because the other shoppers are IDIOTS who ram their trolleys into my ankles, loiter in an obstructing manner for hours in front of the spaghetti, and allow their screaming sugar-saturated brats the run of the place. I hate being poor. I bet it's not like that in Waitrose.
( , Tue 15 Apr 2008, 10:48, closed)
Odd Q
You've probably tried this, but sometimes wearing a mask can make life so much easier.
A real one, with feathers and jewels, people react to the mask and you get to hide behind it.
Sez I.
( , Tue 15 Apr 2008, 17:50, closed)
You've probably tried this, but sometimes wearing a mask can make life so much easier.
A real one, with feathers and jewels, people react to the mask and you get to hide behind it.
Sez I.
( , Tue 15 Apr 2008, 17:50, closed)
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