People don't usually talk about their phobias. They're too embarrassing and peculiar. They're kept firmly under personal lock and key.I don't think I have any phobias, or not in the sense of things that physically and emotionally I simply can't deal with. There are plenty of things that disturb me and scare me, like cockroaches, confined spaces, darkness, dreams*, maggots and cellars, but I can handle them. I would just rather not experience them.
But no wonder people don't want to admit their phobias when they're unhinged by such seemingly ordinary objects as cuddly toys, buttons, cupcakes and taps. How can you explain such an odd aversion? How can you prevent the inevitable raised eyebrows and stifled giggles?
A fear of flying or injections is normal enough, but a fear of cuddly toys? How can something so innocent become frightening and weird?
I do admire those people with phobias over very common everyday situations - a fear of lifts, socialising, making speeches or eating in public - who find ways to overcome those phobias and stop them limiting their lives. We don't know what hell they go through simply trying to calm themselves and act normally, struggling against the panic and horror that threatens to overwhelm them.
Many a public figure who seems effortlessly confident and poised is secretly fighting inner demons that dog them at the most crucial moments.
Come to think of it, I suppose my aversion to too much attention is a kind of phobia, though I don't know if there's a word for it (spectophobia?). Presumably there's a corresponding fear of invisibility, or not being noticed at all.
Which might explain all those desperate fame-seekers.
* Practically all my dreams are nightmares. What goes on in this tangled brain?
