Fears, Phobias and FOMO

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Fears, Phobias & FOMO

Fears? Hmmm. Phobias? Double Hmmm. I’ve scanned through the decades of my life and come up short.  Discrete memories of discomfort are vivid, but they remain in their specific time and space, like my discomfort riding at over night camp.  To be sure I have dislikes, like severe turbulence, but fortunately they have yet to rise to the level of fear, or phobia. I admit to some modicum of the classic female ‘fear of failure’, but that too is not quite genuine. In scouring my trove of memories, as one might search for a lost tiny gem in a musty attic, I’ve come up short; that is blank. Alas, I can’t lay claim to a fear or a phobia. But I do have FOMO!  Is this a phobia?

A Glass Menagerie from the Five and Dime

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A Glass Menagerie from The Five and Dime

When I was a kid there were two stores In my Bronx neighborhood we called the “five-and-dimes”.  One was Woolworth which of course was a national chain,  and the other was Fishers which I think was just a local store.  Yet to my child’s sensibility they were both grand emporiums selling priceless treasures,  and I remember shopping there with my grandmother.

She and my grandfather lived about a hour away by car in Far Rockaway,   and of course we’d often visit back and forth.  But after my grandfather died,  although she had a license,  my grandmother was nervous about driving long distances alone,  and so to visit us she came by bus.  And I remember waiting for her at the bus stop which was on the same block as Fishers,  and when she got off the bus we’d go into the store together and I’d pick out a little glass animal to add to my prized collection.

And although it seems a lifetime ago,  I remember how grown up I felt shopping for my glass menagerie in that local five-and-dime.

And I remember how proud I felt shopping there with you,  Grandma.

– Dana Susan Lehrman

Fear of Dogs

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Not all kids, or adults for that matter, love dogs. Can’t there be a few dog-free public spaces where a young girl can ride her bike or play or simply take a walk and feel safe?
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Fear and Frothing In Las Vegas – My Rant On Phobias

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Alright, settle down everyone, I am here to dismantle the dramatics of our everyday anxieties. We all have fears, that much is a given. From the perfectly reasonable (stepping off a skyscraper) to the downright debilitating (spontaneous human combustion, a fear of mine, I haven’t slept well with since I first dreamed about it back during the almost Y2K non-catastrophe.) But somewhere between the healthy dose of caution and waking up screaming because the crack on your ceiling looks a bit like an arachnid lies the land of phobias.

Now, phobias are a funny bunch. You’ve got your run-of-the-mill arachnophobes like me, who would run away from a surprise spider. Then there’s the claustrophobics who are convinced a trip in an elevator is basically a one-way ticket to purgatory.

Don’t even get me started on the germaphobes – a bunch of walking anti-bacterial wipes who think a handshake is a biohazard suit malfunction. (Becoming Mister Monk is a personal fear of mine.)

Look, I get it. Some fears are primal. The fear of heights? Makes sense, gravity’s a bitch. But the fear of clowns? Come on, clowns are just sadistic and mean spirited children wearing face paint. And don’t even try to tell me you’re scared of flying. It’s statistically the safest mode of transport (unless, of course, you’re sharing a plane with a germaphobe dressed as a clown carrying a spider).

Now, some of you will argue that you’ve tried to overcome these phobias. You booked that therapy session with Dr. Feelgood, the one whose office overlooks a 40-story drop. Or you signed up for that skydiving course, only to spend the entire time composing your funeral eulogy in your head. Here’s the thing, folks – sometimes these phobias have more entertainment value than any actual hindrance. Imagine the story you’ll have at the next work function! “Oh yeah, I can’t go to the office picnic because there might be a rogue butterfly.” Hilarious.

But hey, if you’re genuinely petrified of pigeons or public speaking, then by all means seek help but there’s a difference between a healthy dose of caution and letting the fear win every single time. Just a word of advice – if your therapist’s treatment involves exposure therapy and a trip to the zoo, politely decline and find a new shrink. No one needs that kind of emotional scarring.

Look, at the end of the day, fears and phobias are a part of life. They’re what make us human, what makes us buy ten bottles of Pine-sol and twelve bottles of Pinot Noir every year. But I suggest you do not let any fear or fears be the punchline of your own existence.

I suggest you embrace the absurdity, write a self-help book titled “How to Stop Being Scared of Your Own Shadow” and maybe, just maybe, you’ll find yourself laughing all the way back into therapy? Or at least laughing until you cry, which, by the way, is a wonderful and healthy start!

 

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