You know, sometimes it’s a wonder I can function in normal society. In addition to aviophobia, claustrophobia, coulrophobia and atychiphobia, I also suffer (not surprisingly) from acrophobia — fear of heights.
OK, so I’m not really afraid of clowns. That’s more a nod to my good fiend Stoney. But back to me.
Of the aforementioned, I’d say only two are bona fide “phobias,” meaning that I have a persistent, unrealistic, irrational fear that causes me significant anxiety. That would be my fear of suffocation and fear of heights (although a more accurate description might be bathophobia — fear of falling from a high place).
Are you surprised that aviophobia didn’t make the short list? That’s because while I hate, hate, loathe flying, I will do it if I have to, on occasion. That is, if there is absolutely no other remotely feasible way for me to reach my destination other than going 30,000 feet in the air, I’ll take a plane. But you’ll never, ever, ever in your long-legged life get me to walk a ledge, or even get close to one. Been there, done that, hated it.
I’ve jerked to consciousness from dreaming about it, and I’ve shaken off thoughts of it while awake. It’s insane.
I came across a collection of awesome old photos from New York City this morning that pretty much illustrate my fear. Check these out:
Ew. I also hate crossing suspended bridges, which I suppose is an extension of the fear of falling from high places. I’m not as bad as this poor gal, but I do not enjoy the experience.
Some people have giggled at my weirdness, saying things like, “Hey, when it’s your time to go, it’s your time to go,” and “You could fall from three feet up and still die.” Yeeaaaaaaaaaah BUT…I have no interest whatsoever in aiding and abetting the eventuality. Knowm sayin’?
All right, I’m off to breakfast with Mavis. At Friendly’s, where everything’s at ground level.