We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

boohoo

I am sure that this is an irrational fear that everyone gets who has difficulty sleeping for a few days. But once you read up on this specific disease, you will REALLY get this fear, even though it is definitely very irrational. Very few people will ever get this brain disease, Fatal Familial Insomnia, and very few people have ever even had it. However, all of this is thrown out the window as soon as Wikipedia uses the words “can also develop spontaneously in patients with a non-inherited mutation variant.” What? Oh no!

Sporadic Fatal Insomnia is something none of us will probably ever have, but if we find ourselves struggling with insomnia, remember that it would set in as we near middle age. Have you been so tired that you get anxiety attacks and hallucinations? I sure have, and those are two things that happen in the early stages of this deadly, horrible disease. However, I thankfully usually konk out after a while, instead of trudging on in this manner, going slowly insane until the big sleep anywhere between seven to eighteen months later, when an exhausted ghost version of myself would escape this tired husk of mine and then find that there is actually no resting in peace after all. Noooo.

When my logical mind steps in to again remind me that I probably haven’t developed this, my paranoid insomnia mind counters with another irrational fear, which is that I have developed a brand new sleepless brain disease that will be named after me after I have died of it and have been studied by science.

We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

leave ur beams outta this

Welcome to my irrational fear that makes me so uncomfortable that I have never allowed myself to think about it for very long. I wince when I consider it. Perhaps I should start with a little backstory.

When I was about seven years old, I had a series of night terrors where I would wake everyone in my family up at night because I was screaming horribly. The dream always started the same, with me being within one of five beams of light that appeared to be both moving and still, somewhat eternal or infinite I guess. But I’d be hurtling through space, then veer of towards Earth where I was suddenly me, as a child, in a weird dystopian service station somewhere. Eventually, the dream always ended when some space technology that had been harnessed and not fully understood would go haywire and there’d be repetition that was speeding up exponentially until I woke up FREAKING OUT.

I also hated (and still hate) night time windows being uncurtained because I don’t want things looking in. And also, I don’t like to look up at the night sky in case I see something I can’t explain. These things have bothered me for a really long time and there was one day in my teens that I wondered if I had been abducted, and I immediately stopped thinking about it. But by now, I worry about what if I am actually an alien and that’s why I don’t understand screaming or dancing. And why I see people in buffet lines and feel like I am observing livestock. Have I forgotten who I am and why I’m here? Have I gone totally insane, or am I just really close to it all the time? Halp.

We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

kaboom

Let me clear something up, immediately. I am not a crazy survivalist type who stores up rations and first aid kits and jugs of water because I believe that there is an impending Dooms Day at hand. I am not afraid that there will be some huge world war, or nuclear holocaust, or what else is there — Armageddon? The Rapture? Whatever. None of that is anything that preoccupies my mind very much.

However, whenever I consider maybe going in for some treatment, as many of my friends and acquaintances do, as many friends actually recommend that I try out, I get a very real fear that if I do so, if I give in and just seek outside help, then the world as we know it will swirl down the drain and we will be living in a nightmarish post-apocalyptic situation where it’s every man for himself and all prescriptions will stop. So all of the medicated people will lose it, either physically or mentally or both. And I am not like “I want to keep my wits sharp!” I’m just like, if I got used to relying on mood stabilizers, I think it would be even more difficult to manage things in that situation. Sorry I can’t restructure society into something that is hopefully better, because my body is dealing with withdrawal and I can only sleep in this hollowed out log with a scrap of a blanket and cry. I mean, I probably will be doing exactly that, but I want it to not be because I am having medical withdrawal symptoms. Those somehow sound scarier and worse than what I’m used to.

I think this concern makes a lot of sense! But I guess in the back of my mind, it does seem slightly dramatic. And maybe like I’m making excuses. But I’d rather not cause end of the world just because I was too tired to go on like I am. Maybe you all should be thanking me!

We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

hold it

At first this just seems like a harmless fact about me, doesn’t it? “Amandoll doesn’t like to smell gross people and anyone could turn out to be gross. Not too irrational.” But no. I mean, obviously I don’t like that. And I don’t like the idea of my pristine nasal cavity being invaded by sickening green wavy odor lines. How can it ever become clean? Hint: only by smelling some antibacterial soap (but don’t get any in there because that hurts).

We can salute my mom and a basic knowledge of medical things to know that ailments can be transmitted by air. Keep your plagues to yourself! I don’t want them in me via nose! And because I don’t want to look like a nut who wears a surgical mask in public, I have just learned to breathe so shallowly that it is probably far worse for my health than any germ would be.  And maybe in my idle moments it has crossed my mind that other ills, societal ills, could be passed around in the air, too. What if someone’s gross prejudices floated on the wind and infected those around them?? Does this explain the ways of the world? What if along with smells that tell me of their habits and diet, I can also somehow smell what they are thinking! Are these thoughts brought on by a long-term lack of oxygen?? Maybe!

We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

cchris

I love describing my dynamic with cchris to anyone who has a moment to listen, because I never have been able to understand it. I even mention it on here as much as I can, partly because it’s part of my character makeup, and partly because I really am that bewildered by it. Over the years, things have shifted and changed. When I realized that he is very mysterious, my imagination occasionally will step in and try to figure out WHY. Who is so good at not giving out personal facts? For this many years? Is it villainy? Is it because there’s nothing there? Is it to appear more interesting? What is there to hide, and if there is nothing to hide — WHY.

The irrational fear depicted in the comic has OMGJeremy to blame. Apparently he thinks that cchris and I write similarly, and maybe it is HIS irrational fear that I am pretending to be this whole other person. When he first told me of this, I did have a little while where I might have been horrified and fearful at the possibility. That would be world-shattering to realize. But I guess I don’t fear it, exactly. If it turns out it’s all been in my head, that’s almost impressive. I could live with it. I could live with having made a little Canadian Tulpa. That’s fine. Whatever. I would just like to know for sure before I die of old age.

We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

pranks

I’m not sure if I actually have “social anxiety,” or if I just have anxious times while out and about, or if maybe I had it once, and am doing better now. But very definitely for a while this was a very serious concern of mine. Ever since I was a child and saw TV’s Bloopers and Practical Jokes, starring that dream team of Dick Clark and Ed McMahon, I became horrified by the idea that people would film pranks and then air them on television for the viewing public to see. Later, there have been plenty of other such shows, some meaner than others, and of course now there is YouTube and I’m even going to include improv groups who like to make “magic” in the form of awkward public scenes. Shudder.

I’m aware that I think legally, for the most part, they have people sign release forms to be displayed on television. But I am not sure what YouTube does to protect the average kid from being the target of such. Probably nothing. Look! I’m talking myself right back into having this as a strong irrational fear again! I know that this is statistically remote, but oh god, the horror. It is enough to make me never want to leave the house again. I can trust no one.

We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

no

In this instance, I once again firmly believe that I am experiencing a rational fear, and always have behaved this way. Is it so improbable that while cooking, a little burst of oil would alter the course of my life? Maybe a face wouldn’t melt into an unmanageable tangle of scar tissue, but imagine what that would do to an eye. I have felt it on my arm! It hurts!

If I have to fry an egg or goetta or something, I am nothing but a mess of flinching and I actually stand several feet away until I have to draw near again. I just can’t get over my certainty that the moment I let my guard down or am caught by surprise because somehow water got into the pan, the oil will go straight for my face. Asking me to fry up a food is met with the same sort of reluctance as if you had asked me to volunteer to risk getting repeatedly snapped by mouse traps. If I offer to fry food for you for any reason, it means I like you enough to be brave, even though this comic shows that I am a big ol’ coward.

 

We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

don't look

Mirrors, despite being my finest friends at times, are also my greatest fear at any given crazyperson moment. I mentioned before that I have an unease about trying to sleep within view of one. But sometimes even looking into one in the light can cause me to feel a sense of dread. It is a similar fear to when I get nervous about opening closed doors. The irrational fear that reality is not at all what I have thought it is my whole life is a fear that comes back to haunt me fairly frequently, in many forms.

So what if one day, I glance at the mirror, and there are two of me. What if one is hook-handed and murderous? Even what if it isn’t? What if there are interdimensional monsters? What if there’s a demon or something? What if anything at all?? What could be done? I’d have to either die right there or be a strong character and surprise us all as I make my own destiny. You gotta do what you gotta do.

We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

swallow it

I eat almost every day, so I should be an old pro at it. However, more than a few times, I just forget how to chew or swallow. Or I think I do? This is one of those things where it has happened enough that I worry about it a little too much, and fear that one day I will just choke because I suddenly am incapable of doing this very basic part of daily life. I have wondered if it is an actual medical problem, but I think if it were, then it would happen more consistently and not during a few seconds every once in a while. Sometimes, food just goes right down my neck while I am beginning to chew, and I sputter and fear death. Other times, I just can’t swallow, and then begin to panic because I can’t remember if it is something I should do automatically or if it is something we have to make ourselves do. Classic overthinking to make everything worse. Once, I even had a real panic attack thanks to a PBJ.

I can’t wait for food to just be a nutrition slurry, IV soup, or maybe a little tiny pill. That would relieve me of this burden.

 

We have a lot of fears. Some make sense; others, not so much. This latter type will be featured once monthly until we run out of material, at which point, we might begin accepting the fears of our readers. 

never leave

This is one of those installments that sound like I am making it up, but there have certainly been times in my life (one of the times I was probably legitimately being insane and the other times probably can be blamed on not getting enough sleep) where I have feared simply opening a door. Doors to the outside world were basically never to be opened unless I was leaving with someone, but even doors inside my own home would cause me some amount of scare. I started to wonder, a little too vividly, what would happen in this infinite universe if I opened the door and someone was standing there, where someone should not be. Or what if things were rearranged? What if there was an actual monster or a murderer? What would happen in this infinite universe if I suddenly slipped into a reality that seemed totally the same, until I opened the bedroom door and instead of seeing the living room, I was in an alien world? Then I started to worry that I wouldn’t be able to make it in that plot twist. I wouldn’t be able to assess this new situation and be capable and brave. What if I instead just went blitheringly insane?

The joke was on me of course because I pretty clearly had lost my mind already.