Everyone on the face of this earth, no matter how brave, gallant, stouthearted, fearless, valiant, macho or strong, has at least one thing in life that they’re afraid of. Everybody has a phobia of some kind.
Some people suffer from velexrotaphobia, which is the fear of roller coasters or coulrophobia, the fear of clowns. Which, by the way, is something I’ve never understood. Unless you factor in Steven King’s It. Now that was one scary clown!
Some people suffer from arachnophobia, which means they’re scared of spiders. And I don’t blame ’em one bit. I’m a little freaked out by those eight-legged demons, too. The little ones don’t bother me much, but the big ones have been known to induce a terrified scream or two in my day. Oh, and big to me is still considered pretty small to Mountain Man. Go figure…
Others have acrophobia, or the fear of heights. Which I suffer from as well, but on a much smaller level than some. Ok! Ok! So I get nauseated just standing in a chair to change a light bulb. Perhaps it’s not such a small level after all. But I do try to push myself way out of my comfort zone from time to time to try to get over this one! After all, I do live on a mountain.
And we can’t leave out those amongst us who suffer from nyctophobia, those who are afraid of the dark. And, just in case you’re wondering, I fall into that category, too. But I’ve got a pretty good grip on this one as of late. This particular fear has just about dissipated ever since Mountain Man came into my life. It’s amazing just how relaxed and safe you feel when you’re with someone who really truly loves you. (Insert dreamy, girly sigh here for effect.)
But nothing out there comes even remotely close to my greatest fear in the world. Nothing causes such paralyzing, horrific, nightmarish, blood curdling screams and whole-body shivers as this one particular thing.
Anybody care to take a guess as to what the bane of my existence is…
This ol gal suffers from ophidiophobia. That’s right. I’m afraid of snakes! We’re talking cannot move, lose my breath, unable to even scream sometimes, deathly afraid of slithering serpents!
This is not a good fear to have when you live on the side of a mountain, surrounded by the woods, where snakes are the natives and you are the intruder. Why couldn’t I have been agorophobic, one who doesn’t like crowds, or claustrophobic, afraid of being confined in small spaces? Heck, I’d have even settled for being afraid of the clowns! Anything but this!
And honestly, I’ve tried not to be afraid of these magnificent slithering creatures. And I don’t live by the creedo that’s so commonplace amongst a great deal of Southern women, or maybe just some women in general. “The only good snake is a dead snake.” No, I don’t want to kill them or anything morbid like that. I just don’t want them anywhere near me.
I’ve tried not to pass any of my fears onto my offspring or anyone else around me. I’ve even went so far as to force myself to touch a little ring-necked snake from the wood pile last fall. I told Mountain Man I wanted to see if I could live through actually touching one, hoping to overcome this gripping fear I have. I trusted him enough not to attempt to throw the snake on me or stick it in my face. God forbid if he had! One of us would not be here right now. And I’m thinking it would have been me ’cause I’d have surely died if he’d done anything mean that day!
*Feel free to share what your biggest fears are in the comments section. If for no other reason, just so I don’t feel like the biggest wuss in the whole entire world!
Oh, and thanks for not judging me based on all my irrational fears! I’m working on them…
*I wrote this a few weeks ago, but I’ve been holding off on posting it until I could get a picture of one of these little darlings to go along with it. This is definitely not the picture I had in mind, but while taking the trash out yesterday afternoon, I was presented with this little “gift” in the yard beside the garden and I figured this may be as good as it gets, picture wise anyway. He was a cute little ring-necked snake about a 8 or 9 inches long. I was really hoping to snap a pic of a 2 ft long black snake stretched across the road, but they must know I’m looking for them ’cause they have went into hiding ever since I wrote this.
**One other thing, I’m happy to report that I did not scream when I looked down beside my foot, which was only protected by my pink Crocs, and saw this wretched little creature in the grass. That, dear readers, is real progress on my part! Or, perhaps it was the all consuming fear that prevented me from releasing that primal sound from deep within. Hmm… I’m gonna go with the first one. Makes me feel better and not seem like such a big wuss!