I’ve never really had any major phobias. Growing up, I thought I could get away with doing anything. Like the time I decided I wanted to be like the guys who clean windows on large tall buildings, and decided to kinda do “something similar”. Or the time I actually caught a spider that was running away with my bare hands. Or this one time when I was in grade 12, when I was returning home from school and I thought I’d actually cross one of the wider crazier busier streets which doesn’t have a pedestrian crossing by just jaywalking across, and then jumping over the median. Or even that one time when a buddy and I decided to ride the subway.
Over the years however, I’ve started to develop some crazies. A few phobias. I’ve jumped out of an airplane (yes I had a parachute on). And I’ve bungee’d. But I’m certain I’d never want to do those things again. And every now and then, I get a panic attack when I’m inside an airplane. Like when I’m in an airplane restroom, I start to feel like I’m running short of breath, and I feel like I need some fresh air. Claustrophobia – right. There was a time when I could actually watch ‘The Silence of The Lambs’ and be able to go to sleep at night without worrying that I’ll be waking up the next morning with a limb of mine hanging from Anthony Hopkins’ mouth. And as time goes on, I keep thinking of how many more of these I could develop. For some reason, I seem to value life more now than I did about ten years ago.
So, I’m thinking, I’m a phobia phobe. I’m afraid now that I’d be phobic of something.