I lived the first thirty years of my life in fear. In fear of many, many things. Things that were justified and things that weren’t. I worried that if I went to school, the other kids would pick on me. Which, if it was middle school, they totally did. I worried if I didn’t finish a school project, I would die. That never happened. Of course, I don’t think I ever tested that by leaving one unfinished either.
As long as I can remember, I have had a fear of touching my eye. As much as I hate the glasses I have to wear every day, I know that I would not ever be able to wear contact lenses and put them into my eyes. I have trouble keeping my eyes open at the eye doctor to have the glaucoma air-puff test or for the eye drops to dilate my eyes. So much so that the last few eye doctors did not even want to do those tests on me. (VISION INSURANCE COMPANIES: Take note.)
When I was in elementary school, I could see the front door from my bed. I would lie in bed at night and just watch the door, expecting the door knob to jingle and open at any second. I kept expecting robbers to come in and get me. I had the same fear and bed/door set-up in my first apartment. I am glad to say that the more doors there are between me and the front door, the less that fear becomes.
While in my first (and only) apartment, I realized I have a fear of exhaust fans, like the kind that are usually square and found on bathroom ceilings. The exhaust fan in my apartment would try to fall out of the ceiling on occasion. I guess it had wires, so it probably would never have fallen out all the way. But I was afraid it would fall on me and chop my head off or something. So I would tape up all four corners with masking tape. I figured it would be easily removable when I moved out. But masking tape doesn’t hold very well, especially in a damp, steamy environment. I lived there for five years. That’s a lot of tape and worry. On vacations, I somehow always end up in the hotel room with the bathroom exhaust fan hanging askew from the ceiling. My fear returns. I am lucky in my current home that the exhaust fan is on the wall, rather than the ceiling. Unconventional, but it works for me. Especially since it is now fixed and all the steam now goes outside instead of into the basement as it did when we first moved in.
I will save my other biggest fears for the next post. I will also tell you how I have tried to stop these rational and irrational fears from ruining my life.
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