The Fear

Everyone fears something. Heck, even the mighty groundhog fears its shadow. Some people manage to hide their fears, while others overtly flip out.

My mother is deathly afraid of snakes. When the news story broke about T officials finding a boa constrictor on the T that had been missing for over a month, my poor mother was in shock, and was very glad that she had not been on that particular T car when the snake had been found. One would think that due to her fear, I would also be afraid. Not so. When I was very young, she and I were in the woods behind my grandparents’ house (what we were doing I cannot remember – looking for a lost ball, perhaps?) Mom saw a snake. While she inwardly freaked out, she knew that if she showed signs of fear on the outside, I, too, would suffer from snake fear. Instead, she did one of the many cool things she did for me as my mother. She called me over and said, “Clare! Look at that! A little garden snake! Isn’t that cool?”

And to me, it was, because I had not yet learned that a snake could be something to fear. I am not afraid of snakes. Thanks, mom.

I am, however, afraid of other things. Specifically vomit, spiral staircases and revolving doors.

“But Clare,” you say, “No one enjoys vomit. It is not a pleasant experience, whether if you are the vomiter or someone who experiences the vomit secondhand.”

I know. But I am especially disinclined. If I do not feel well, I do not welcome the act of vomiting, even if it makes me feel better afterwards. I would much rather suffer through a stomachache, bug or food poisoning longer if it meant I would not vomit. I can’t listen to it. I can’t take care of the ill. Give me a feverish friend, someone hacking up a lung, that I can handle. Once the gagging begins I’m outta there.

Spiral staircases are all right in small doses. For example, if you have one in your home to go from floor one to floor two, I can handle it. However, if I am climbing an endless (or seemingly endless) spiral of stairs, especially if I can see everything below me (like the Statue of Liberty or St. Paul’s Cathedral), sh*t goes down. I actually had to stop going up the St. Paul’s stairs (something I really wanted to finish, because I love St. Paul’s and I wanted a panoramic view of London) because I was so frightened. I know in my mind I’m not going to fall. But when you can see everything above you and below you, how far you have come and how far you have to go… It gets to you, man!

Zinnia Jewelry has spiral stairs going down to the office and basement. That has helped my fear somewhat, but I have not again attempted walking up a St. Paul’s-like set of stairs in quite some time. We shall see.

Last, but most certainly not least, are revolving doors. These I have somewhat dealt with, because I know they are much more energy efficient than the regular doors beside them and, well, I cannot seem to escape them. My good friend AT knows firsthand my apprehension with these doors. I can do them, I just get very nervous. I don’t like to use them when other people are already in them (rather difficult at a place like the Prudential Shopping Center). I am partly afraid that part of me will get stuck (a hand, a head, who knows?) and partly afraid that I will not be able to get out of the door in time, before it goes around again. And again and again and again. My sister once got her head stuck in a revolving door, and ever since that happened we have both been petrified.

Abnormal fears are normal, right? They are what make us human and different. If only we had superhuman powers so we could overcome our fears…. Or our digestion tract could withstand anything and we would never, ever throw up!