Without-Feathers.com

Tell us your phobias, and we will tell you what you are afraid of.
Robert Benchley

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Phobias

Romy

I’d actually hesitate to label all of these phobias, since most of them are merely strong dislikes that I could undoubtedly get over if I put my mind to it. But still—anything that gives me a twinge of unreasonable fear qualifies for this list, and I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve ended up with a longer list than I expected. Guess I’m just a big ol’ scaredy-cat, after all.

Deep water is pretty much my only major phobia, the only fear that can actually make me sweat and shudder. Oddly enough, this only applies to water that I’m actually in; I’ve flown over the Atlantic Ocean four times, and it hasn’t bothered me a bit. But if you threw me off a pier or pushed me into a pool where I couldn’t clearly see the bottom, I’d clamber out before you could say “Fraidy-cat!” I think it’s the idea that I’m out of my element that bothers me, and that there are other things lurking in the murk that are in their element, and want to eat interlopers like me. Things like giant squid, or octopi that can walk on two legs. Those leggy bastards scare me more than sharks—which is odd, because sharks are a lot more dangerous.

Driving is something I’d rather not do, thank you very much. Since my family didn’t have a car when I turned sixteen, I never learned to drive, and I have no intention of learning. I’m bad enough in the passenger seat, always clutching at the door handle and gritting my teeth; imagine if I was behind the wheel! Besides, highways make me nervous.

Not all insects frighten me, but there are certain breeds that will send me screeching from the room. Wasps, for example; something about their shape and sound make them seem frighteningly alien—plus, they’re always in a stinging mood. Bees aren’t quite as freaky, but I prefer to view them from a safe distance. (This might be because I’ve never been stung, and am therefore terrified of breaking my personal record.) Last, but not least, cockroaches—they may be scientifically fascinating, but they’re just plain icky when they’re scuttling around your kitchen. Fortunately, I live in a climate where most of these bugs are out and about for only two seasons out of the year; if I’d stayed in Florida, I’d be making friends with them year-round.

I’m not afraid of the dark all the time—only when I’m indoors, when I’m out in an open area, and/or when I have to move through it. If I’m outdoors, up against a wall, or able to stay completely still and silent, I’m fine. But I hate moving around in a darkened house—it makes me feel like nameless things are watching me from the walls and doorways, and that I’m setting myself up as a target.

This’ll make you laugh, but I swear it’s true: one of the reasons I drink all my beverages through plastic straws is that I’m afraid, if I don’t have the straw to use as a filter, that I’ll accidentally gulp down a bug, a finger, or some other nasty bit that’s fallen into my glass. And what with the recent rash of finger-filled foods, it doesn’t seem so silly anymore, now does it?

I love animals to absolute pieces, but strange dogs that run up and bark at me make me twitch. Aside from getting chased a few times as a kid, I’ve never had any bad canine experiences, so I’m not exactly sure why I get so nervous. I worry about being bitten, but I also worry about what I’ll do if the dog does bite me—I might have to hurt it to get it to let go of me, and I know I’d feel just as bad about hurting an animal as I would about hurting my own family.

I never have this fear while I’m actually riding them, but when I’m in the car I’m convinced that city buses are out to get me. In fact, there’s a good possibility they might be; I’ve done some oddball things during my years as a bus passenger, and I have it on good authority that bus drivers tend to hold grudges. Or maybe the city just hires crappy drivers. Whatever the reason, my husband and I seem to have close calls with buses on an alarmingly regular basis—they don’t see our car, they nearly run over our car, they practically force our car off the road while switching lanes...

I’m pretty sure this one makes it onto everyone’s phobia list, whether they admit it or not: the Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark book series. Oh my god, those pictures. In grade school, it was a deed worthy of the highest honor for any kid to check those books out of the library. I can’t tell you how many nightmares those stories gave me—and believe me, book illustrations rarely freak me out. To this day, I still can’t look at those pictures without getting seriously spooked.

Ever since my younger self got ahold of a particularly vivid book on dinosaurs, I’ve had a lurking fear that one day I’ll wake up and find that every other being on the planet has disappeared, and the only creatures left are dinosaurs. And, of course, all the dinos will be out to get me. I’ve had so many nightmares about this that I’ve pretty much figured out exactly how long I would last if this scenario really happened—longer than you’d expect, but still not very long at all. Let’s just say that I can handle T-Rexes and stegosauruses, but not velociraptors...

I’m not scared of all ghosts—hell, I’m not even sure I believe in them—but child-ghosts would honestly scare me senseless. Taking into account how basically amoral most small children are, it follows that their ghosts would be equally heartless, and that’s freakier than if they were outright evil. Fortunately, these specters seem to exist mostly in B-grade horror movies, and not in real life. But still—if that bitch from The Ring or that brat from The Grudge came clambering out of my television, I’d probably have a coronary.

And since you’ve read this far, here’s a little list of  things I’m not afraid of: worms, tarantulas, bats, birds, squirrels, mice, rats, fire, heights, airplanes, trains, earthquakes, ghosts (most of them), snakes, blood, zombies, corpses, mountain climbing, riding on elephants, and thunderstorms. Yay me! I’m brave!