Phobia

by Mandy White

  My mouth felt dry, as it often had lately. I needed a drink of water. I slid out of bed and leaned forward to reach for my slippers. That was when I saw her. A woman sat at a small table next to my bedroom door, facing away from me. A crow perched on her shoulder, pecking lovingly at her face, as if grooming her. I sat frozen, legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

  Now what? Should I say something?

  I cleared my throat to get her attention.

  The woman turned her head, but didn’t see me because she had no eyes, just dark, empty pits where her eyes should have been.

  Something – I didn’t want to know what – dangled from the crow’s beak.

  I screamed.

  I woke up – again – and found myself lying comfortably in bed. I pinched my arms several times to make sure I was awake for real this time and not trapped in another bizarre chapter of the nightmare. This time, my bedroom looked as it always had. No blood-soaked surgeon and no eyeless crow-woman. The TV was on, tuned to an infomercial.

  I fled to the kitchen and brewed a pot of coffee. I spent the rest of the night sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and playing solitaire on my laptop.

  I knew I needed to start taking my medication again, but I was trapped in an impasse. If I took the pills I so obviously needed, I would run out of them. I dumped my bottle of Valium on the table and counted the pills: twenty-six. If I rationed them by taking one every second night, it would be fifty-two days before I ran out. Seven weeks. I repeated the process with my antidepressants and found I had only a month’s supply left. After that, would have no choice but to leave the house to renew my prescriptions.

  * * *

  Since a trip to the pharmacy was inevitable, I decided to acclimate myself to going outside. I would work up to it by practicing at night, when nobody could see me.

  No big deal. I’d been outside before. It was easy. Just open the door and walk through it, right?

  Do it, you chickenshit!

  I paused at the front door, hand on the knob, dressed in coat and shoes, ready to go out.

  Go ahead, I told myself. Just turn it.

  I had scarcely begun to turn the doorknob when I heard a noise outside the house. I jumped back from the door like I had been electrocuted.

  A hissing noise, slow and rhythmic, came from the other side of the door. It sounded like something large… something hungry, sniffing around the cracks, inhaling my scent, waiting for me to open the door.

  HISS. SLURP. HISS. SLURP.

  I couldn’t open the door with that thing out there, whatever it was. I peeked through the blind, but couldn’t see anything in the darkness. I listened.

  HISS. SLURP. HISS. SLURP.

  I edged away from the door.

  BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

  I whirled around.

  What the hell?

  I hadn’t put anything in the microwave, so why was it beeping?

  I tiptoed to the kitchen. The monster still wheezed outside the front door. The microwave continued to beep steadily every couple of seconds.

  The kitchen was empty. I opened the microwave door. Also empty. I shook my head. I must be imagining things. Not enough sleep.

  BEEP! BEEP!

  I jumped back from the open microwave with a small scream. There was no way it should have been beeping when the door was open. I scooted behind the microwave stand and yanked the plug out of the wall.

  BEEP!

  I backed away.

  No. This can’t be. No. No. It’s unplugged!

  BEEP!

  “NO!” I shouted at it.

  I ran from the kitchen and back to the safety of my bedroom, away from whatever fucked-up rabbit hole I’d fallen into. I turned the TV volume up until it drowned out the hissing monster and the beeping microwave.

  I pinched my arm hard enough to leave a welt, to make sure I wasn’t having another vivid dream.

  Nope. Definitely awake.

  I think.

  For the second time that day I began to doubt my sanity. Maybe it was time I found some help.

  ~*~

  ~ 6 ~

  Reaching out

  I started my laptop, hoping it would be different this time. My Internet still wasn’t working properly. Even though my wi-fi appeared to be working and I could load a browser to my homepage, I couldn’t seem to get anywhere. I had performed countless Google searches, only to find that all the links in the search results were dead. I clicked and clicked, but never got past the results page.

  Today was no different. I searched as many different terms as I could think of: fears, phobias, nightmares, agoraphobia, trauma, and a long list of other words and phrases. Each search turned up different results, but every single link was dead.

  Dead, like I soon would be if I didn’t find help soon.

  Resting my head in my hands, I began to sob.

  “Help me!” I cried aloud. “Why won’t anyone help me? Damn it!”

  I slammed my hand down on the keyboard in frustration, restraining myself from hitting it too hard. As much as I felt like putting my fist through the damned thing, the laptop was my only connection to the outside world. Sketchy as my Internet connection was, I still preferred it to my improperly functioning telephone.

  I looked back up at the screen. Somehow, I had generated a new search by smacking the keyboard. Whatever gibberish I had accidentally typed in had yielded one result.

  Fears and Phobias Online Support was the title of the lone website link, and it appeared to be live! Holding my breath, I moved my cursor over the link and clicked.

  The page changed, and a website began to load.

  ~*~

  ~ 7 ~

  Support

  I joined the Fears and Phobias Online Support website without much expectation.

  At the very least, I thought it would help occupy my time and distract my attention from what was happening in my world. Also, it was the only site I could access on the entire Internet.

  It was a simple looking site, sparse in design – just a few links on a black background – live text chat, video group therapy and an email link. I avoided the video link, but tried the live text chat. A man named Colin was online, and I found him to be compassionate and willing to talk about pretty much anything.

  According to his online bio, Colin was a university student, working toward his Psychology degree. He was the owner and designer of the FPOS website. He also hosted an online discussion group that met via webcam. People who were unable to attend therapy in person could participate in group sessions from the comfort of their homes. The group was designed for people who were confined to their homes because of phobias – people like me.

  The purpose of the live video was to simulate real group therapy as closely as possible to offer members the experience of attending group therapy in person without stepping outside their comfort zones.

  Members of the group were asked to participate in at least one session. It wasn’t mandatory to go on camera, and we were allowed to use an avatar and false name if it made us more comfortable. If all I could do was sit and listen, it was still considered participation.

  At first, I resisted the idea of doing anything live, but Colin had a way of making me feel at ease. By the end of our first conversation, he had convinced me to listen in on a group session. I agreed, mostly because I wanted to see what Colin looked like, and how his voice would sound. I couldn’t wait to see and hear him for real. He assured me that nobody would put me on the spot or demand that I speak. The group would be aware that a new member was present, but he assured me that I would be given a fake name and I could be like a fly on the wall and just listen.

  To my disappointment, I was not the only one who chose not to appear on camera. Colin’s avatar was a cartoon of Sigmund Freud, so I only heard his voice. The sound quality wasn’t great, but I was able to hear everyone.

  I felt comfortable talking to Colin via text chat, because it was less invasive than live video and I had time to th
ink of what to say. Connecting with a real person for the first time since I’d been home made me realize how lonely I was. Before the accident, I’d always cherished my privacy; I never had a problem with being alone. Now, it seemed I was craving companionship.

  I didn’t tell him about my strange dreams or the weird stuff that was happening when I was awake. I didn’t want him to think I was loony.

  * * *

  Colin began by welcoming everyone and checking sound and video. Then it was time for introductions.

  “You might have noticed we have a new member today. Say hello to Amona, but try not to scare her away. She’s agreed to listen in on today’s session.”

  I heard the collective mumble of the group as they said, “Hello, Amona.”

  I giggled softly at the silly name Colin had chosen for me. Oh well, I could be ‘Amona’ for the purpose of the group.

  “Now, lets get on with today’s session, shall we?” Colin said, quickly taking attention away from me once I had been introduced.

  Members each took a turn speaking. They began by telling the group their names and a little bit about why they were there. Most were similar to me – agoraphobics with social phobias. Like me, they admitted to using various means of self-medication to combat shyness. I realized for the first time that I was not alone and my problems were not unique.

  I listened to Colin converse briefly with each member. I became lost in the melody of his voice – smooth and deep, but not too deep.

  The first discussion was incredibly enlightening, and Colin was amazing. For a student, he really knew his stuff. He would make a hell of a shrink one day.

  “The first step in conquering a fear is to identify the thing you are afraid of. I’m not talking about making a generalized observation like, ‘I’m afraid of heights’, for example. I want you to delve into it more deeply. Why are you afraid of heights? What is it about being high off of the ground that scares you?”

  That gave me pause. I’d never examined any of my fears closely enough to pinpoint their origins.

  I hung on Colin’s every word as he continued.

  “The purpose of examining a phobia more closely is to familiarize yourself with it. Familiarity makes scary things less frightening. Think of your phobia as a dark room. In the dark, everything is scary because you can’t see what is in the room with you. You can’t tell if you’re going to trip over something and stub your toe, or fall headlong down a flight of stairs. It’s scary because it’s unknown.” He paused for a moment. “But, what happens when you flick that light switch? You can see the room clearly. The obstacles are no longer hidden. You can see the stairs, or that there aren’t any stairs. Light is information. Information helps to alleviate fear.”

  “Or,” a female group member suggested, “once the light is on you can see the psychopath standing over you with a bloody axe.”

  Everyone in the group laughed, including Colin.

  “Touché, Melissa!” he said. “But now you know that there’s only ONE axe-wielding psycho, not two, or ten. What we are going to do is get to know our fears. Really get to know them, until you’re so familiar with your phobias that you could run your own support group. I’m going to assign you a bit of homework.”

  The group shared a collective groan, then a few giggles.

  “I want you to make a list of all the things that make you feel afraid, nervous or anxious. I mean, everything, not just the really bad ones, but everything that bothers you. Then I want you to find out if there is a scientific name for each fear and give me a definition of each one. It’s ok to copy from Wikipedia as long as it’s accurate.

  Think about how you relate to the object of your fear. Why does that particular thing scare you? What is the origin of your fear?”

  I heard the sound of papers rustling, then Colin said, “I have to go now. I have class in an hour. I’ll see you later.”

  There was silence. The meeting was over.

  I opened a blank document on my computer and started working on my homework assignment.

  The first part was easy. It was simply a list of things that frightened me.

  Leaving the house

  Snakes

  Needles

  Heights

  Earthquakes

  Suffocation

  Blindness

  Being trapped

  Fainting in public

  Being put on the spot

  Dogs

  Blood

  Crowds/people

  Unwanted visitors

  Water/drowning

  Telephones

  Darkness

  Losing control

  The unknown

  Humiliation

  Christmas

  I had done a bit of research on phobias in the past, in an attempt to understand my fears. I had several documents saved on my computer, including an indexed phobia list I had copied from the Internet and The Encyclopedia of Fears and Phobias, which I had downloaded from Amazon the previous year. I had read through both numerous times and knew them well. Using the resources present on my hard drive, I started a new list. It consisted of textbook names of phobias, along with the definition of each:

  Leaving the house – Agoraphobia (fear of outdoors/open spaces/public)

  Snakes – Ophidiophobia (fear of snakes)

  Needles –) Aichmophobia (fear of sharp pointed objects and puncture wounds)

  Heights – Acrophobia (fear of heights)

  Earthquakes – Seismophobia (fear of earthquakes)

  Suffocation – Claustrophobia (fear of enclosed spaces/derived from fear of suffocation)

  Being Trapped – Cleithrophobia (fear of being trapped)

  Fainting in public – Asthenophobia (fear of fainting)

  Dogs – Cynophobia (fear of dog bites/rabies)

  Blood – Hemophobia (fear of blood)

  Crowds/people – Enochlophobia,, Demophobia or Ochlophobia (fear of crowds)

  Water/drowning – Hydrophobia (fear of water)

  The dark – Nychtophobia (fear of the dark or night)

  Being put on the spot

  Unwanted visitors

  Telephones

  Losing control

  The unknown

  Humiliation

  Christmas

  I couldn’t find technical terms for some of the items on the list, but I noticed that the remaining ones were loosely connected. Further examination revealed them to be symptoms of Social Anxiety Disorder as opposed to individual phobias. I also noticed that a few of the phobias, such as fainting, crowds and feeling trapped, were connected to the same disorder.

  The original list of twenty-one fears seemed like far too many to manage, but when I upon closer examination, I noticed see a connection between many of the items on the list. They weren’t all different; some were simply different aspects of the same phobia.

  I began to link the items on the list together using sub-headings. The result was revealing, to say the least. Each of my phobias was connected to one or more of the others. It appeared I could condense my phobias into a much shorter list than originally anticipated.

  I began to understand the purpose of Colin’s assignment. Educating myself about my fears and the many hats they wore made them seem less ominous. What I had perceived as numerous phobias was, in reality, just symptoms of a few primary fears. After deeper analysis, I broke it down even further.

  When I connected all of the symptoms and placed them as sub-headings to primary phobias, I managed to reduce it from twenty-one to two – Social Anxiety Disorder and a phobia of needles and sharp objects.

  Two major phobias, and one wasn’t technically a phobia, but an anxiety disorder, which left only one. In my opinion, a fear of sharp objects wasn’t exactly irrational; it was logical, merely self-preservation.

  “Colin, you’re a genius!” I whispered.

  I sighed and cradled my chin in my hands. Why couldn’t I ever meet guys like Colin? I was one of those girls who always attracted jerks. Afte
r a string of abusive relationships I had given up on love a long time ago. It was too much effort; too much anxiety and I had enough of that already without throwing some stupid boyfriend into the mix.

  Colin hadn’t mentioned having a girlfriend but I couldn’t imagine someone as smart and sensitive as him being single. Either he was married, engaged or gay. Guaranteed. If not, I was certainly not his type. He probably preferred girls who were more… well, sane. A nutcase like me didn’t stand a chance.

  ~*~

  ~ 8 ~

  Cyber Freedom

  I emailed Colin privately to ask for help with my ‘homework’ assignment. I didn’t really need help. I was making more progress than he probably expected and best of all, I was learning something valuable in the process. I just wanted an excuse to talk to him; to have him notice me.

  To my delight, he emailed me back almost immediately, asking if I wanted to chat live via Skype. I amazed myself by answering in the affirmative, then proceeded to have a panic attack.

  What had I done? Skype was even worse than the phone! Not only was I going to be put on the spot by talking live, I would have to let him see me on camera! The webcam was even more invasive than the cursed phone that I went to such great lengths to avoid.

  I couldn’t deny my real motive for agreeing to Skype chat. I was dying to see what he looked like, even if it meant going on camera myself. I rushed to apply some makeup and fix my hair. I thought I looked pretty, but wasn’t sure. I hoped he would like me.

  Normally, the thought of someone invading my personal space filled me with dread, but Colin made me feel at ease. I wouldn’t mind a little invasion from a guy like him. Dirty mind! I scolded myself. Colin’s interest in me was purely professional. His website and group activities were nothing more than research to him, and practice for his future career as a shrink.

  Heart thumping in my throat, I loaded Skype and waited to connect to Colin.