My Worst Fears
There are two kinds of fears: rational and irrational- or, in simpler terms, fears that make sense and fears that don’t. For instance, the Baudelaire orphans have a fear of Count Olaf, which makes perfect sense, because he is an evil man who wants to destroy them. But if they were afraid of lemon meringue pie, this would be an irrational fear, because lemon meringue pie is delicious and would never hurt a soul. Being afraid of a monster under the bed is perfectly rational, because there may in fact be a monster under your bed at any time, ready to eat you all up, but a fear of realtors is an irrational fear. Realtors, as I’m sure you know, are people who assist in the buying and selling of houses. Besides occasionally wearing an ugly yellow coat, the worst a realtor can do to you is show you a house that you find ugly, so it is completely irrational to be terrified of them.
-Lemony Snicket, The Wide Window
I love Lemony Snicket. A lot of my current sense of humor in writing was developed as a result of the black humor of A Series of Unfortunate Events. If you’ve never read them, regardless of how old you are, I’d highly recommend the first three as a fun, quick read.
Yes, I love Lemony Snicket… but I have to take issue with the above passage.
I do not believe there is such a thing as irrational fears.
Where is the line between rational and irrational fears? Sure, it may seem silly to be afraid of lemon meringue pie, but what if your ex-wife used to make lemon meringue pie every Tuesday night, and the last thing she screamed at you as she was dragged out of divorce court was a threat of revenge most foul, and she deals with poisonous chemicals at her job at the Poisonous Chemical Factory, and now it’s a cold Tuesday night 3 years later and there’s a mysterious piece of lemon meringue pie on your doorstep? What’s irrational now, Snicket?
My point is that irrational is in the eye of the befearer. My dear friend Sarah Yocum is afraid of pool drains, and she explains it so well that this fear seems completely rational. It’s almost more rational to fear pool drains than it is to fear terrorist attacks if you live out in the boonies of Iowa, unless you’ve been involved in a terrorist attack in the boonies of Iowa. So you see, it’s almost impossible (and certainly very rude) to call someone’s fear “irrational.”
The cool thing about fears is that no two people have the same buffet of nightmares. Lots of people have fears in common (especially the Are You Afraid of the Dark? generation, am I right?) but a particular fear can come from anywhere: childhood stories, experiences, scary movies, lemon-meringue-pie-baking vengeful ex-wives, et cetera. You can learn a lot about a person by discovering what they fear.
So here I present to you my top five fears (some might call them “irrational”) and their origins, in the hopes that you may understand me better. I’m also going to name them, so as to better enumerate them later.
These are in no order. I could not possibly rank them. They are all terrifying.
1. Prepantophobia- fear of developing crippling pantophobia
Everyone read Peanuts growing up, and everyone has seen A Charlie Brown Christmas, right? So everyone should have at least heard of pantophobia. In case you haven’t, Lucy suggests several fears to Linus (in the movie, it’s Charlie Brown) before asking about this one:
One of my nerdy British shows, Doctor Who, describes it as “Pantophobia. Not fear of pants though, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s the fear of everything. Including pants, I suppose.”
Can. You. Imagine.
Fear of everything. EVERYTHING! Fear of pants! Fear of gummy bears! Fear of neckties! Fear of sloths! Fear of clipping your toenails! Fear of being with people! Fear of being alone! Fear of food! Fear of starving! Fear of lemon meringue pies! Fear of fear itself!
Every single thing that exists strikes fear into the heart of a pantophobiac. Everything.
I don’t know what factors contribute to the development of pantophobia, but I do know that I am terrified of getting it. I don’t want to be afraid of everything! What kind of an existence is that? No more kite-flying, no more chocolate milk, no more Googling, no more walking under chandeliers!
I’m not afraid of everything. I am afraid of becoming afraid of everything. Prepantophobia.
2. Femcarcerophobia- fear of being framed for a crime I didn’t commit and doing 20 to life in a women’s penitentiary
Two words: Shawshank Redemption.
Andy Dufresne was a stand-up guy! He was kind! He was successful! He was tall! He had it all going for him, and then one little thing happened (his wife and her lover were shot while Andy was drinking and contemplating shooting them) and BAM! Two consecutive life sentences! He didn’t even have two consecutive lives!
Four more words: Count of Monte Cristo.
Edmond Dantes was a stand-up guy! He was clever! He was honest! He was handsome! He had it all going for him, and then one little thing happened (he unwittingly delivered a potentially-treasonous note to some guy named Napoleon Bonaparte, which his three enemies used against him) and BAM! Life imprisonment in the hellhole known as Chateau d'If!
One more word: Holes.
Stanley Yelnats was a stand-up guy! He was hardworking! He was smart! He was giving! He had it all going for h… okay, he may have been cursed by the mistakes of his no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing great-great-grandfather, but he was still a good kid. Then one little thing happened (his future best friend threw some stolen shoes on his head) and BAM! 18 months digging holes at Camp Green Lake!
I’m a stand-up guy! I’m harmless! I’m nice! I’m friendly! I have at least some of it going for me! I’m just as susceptible to sabotage, framing, and imprisonment as those guys! Maybe more! What if someone wants to frame me? I’m toast! I would crack under the pressure of harsh interrogation and cleverly-concocted false evidence, and get sent to jail!!
What’s that you say? Jail’s not so bad? Lots of time to sleep and read and write letters, and the paper’s free?
Three more words, and an acronym: Law and Order SVU.
I cannot be the only one who saw those episodes where Olivia went undercover in a women's penitentiary, and what happened to her there.
I’m not going to explain it any further. If you know the show, you can probably guess what happened. If you really want to know, you can look it up, but I’m warning you: it ain’t pretty.
I am afraid of being wrongfully accused, convicted, and sent to a women’s penitentiary for the rest of my life. Femcarcerophobia.
3. Morphophobia- fear of turning into something and not being able to control it
A list of movies I still cannot watch all the way through: Pinocchio, Jumanji, Spy Kids. What do these three films have in common?
Oh I don’t know, how about INNOCENT PEOPLE SLOWLY TURNING INTO STUFF AND THEY CAN’T CONTROL IT?
It’s different from Brother Bear, The Princess and the Frog, and The Swan Princess. When those people are turned into something else, they can still communicate, and they have the hope of turning back into people if they want. Not so with the above three films.
(I hope you guys know how important this visual aid is. It’s freaking me out looking at it. Searching Google Images for the photos was a nightmare come true. This legitimately scares me, guys.)
After I first saw Pinocchio, I would wake up in the middle of the night for months, frantically checking my head to make sure I didn’t have donkey ears growing out of it. THANKS A LOT, WALT DISNEY!
When we watched Jumanji in class in fifth grade, I cried. All that kid wanted to do was play a dumb board game with his sister and Mrs. Doubtfire! And he got turned into a freaking monkey!! That is not a children’s movie!!!
I will never forget going to see Spy Kids with Collin Darland when we were in the third grade. By the time Antonio Banderas turned into one of those demented Floop-thingies, both of us were so scared that we had to leave the theater. The difference is that I bet Collin got over that fear. Mine remains.
I don’t want to be a donkey. I don’t want to be a monkey. And I really really really really really don’t want to be a Floop.
I am afraid of being turned into something and not being able to control it. Morphophobia.
4. Hirudineaphobia- fear of leeches
Remember the American Girl Books? Great books, right? We had a ton of the dolls, and almost all of the books. One of the most exciting books was Meet Addy, because it was when Addy and her mom escaped from slavery. I tell you what, I was all about those abolition stories. I still want to be Harriet Tubman when I grow up. She was the coolest.
But you know what was not the coolest? When Addy and her mom had to cross the river and they were running, and they get to the other side, and Addy touches her neck to make sure she still has her necklace, and there is a MASSIVE, BLOODSUCKING WORM on her neck!! Not cool, American Girl! Not cool!
This was dealt with in two sentences at the end of chapter four. It was barely even mentioned. But it scarred me permanently for two reasons:
Number 1: My blood doesn’t work right. I have this thing (thanks, Wikipedia!). It doesn’t majorly affect me now, but when I was little it was a pretty big deal.
Number 2: The kind folks at American girl included A PICTURE in the margins! A PICTURE of the nasty little thing! COME ON!
I am afraid of leeches. Hirudineaphobia.
5. Geladrownophobia- jumping/diving/falling into a pool of solid Jello
The aforementioned Sarah Yocum, her wonderful suitemate Kristen Wagner, and I were discussing Sarah’s applications to several high-profile reality shows. One of the application questions asked about something that you’ve always wanted to do, and Sarah said she had always wanted to swim in Jello.
Immediately I was plunged (pun intended) into a nightmare.
I am dropped from a great height. There’s an orange pool below. I brace myself for impact. My toes break the surface of the Jello. I try to scream, but it’s too late. I am completely submerged. The Jello displaced by my body presses against me with the force of concrete. Orange Jello fills my ears, my nostrils. I cannot breathe. The Jello is on my eyeballs, but the force is too great for me to even blink. I cannot move in the slightest. And that is how I die: body paralyzed, arms pinned, eyes wide, mouth almost open into a scream for help, in a pool of cruel orange Jello.
I told Sarah a watered-down version of this terror, and that her dream would be a nightmare in reality because you would have to watch yourself die through an orange sea of suffering.
I am afraid of jumping, diving, or falling into a pool of solid Jello. Geladrownophobia.
I hope this has been an enlightening experience for you all. For me, it has been a descent into all of the worst nightmares of my childhood. But hey, if you liked it, that’s all that matters!
(One last thing: if any of you try to use this information against me, I WILL FIND OUT YOUR FEARS AND EXACT MY REVENGE.)
Love you all!