I have a phobia of
spiders.
And when I say phobia, I mean an irrational fear – note the use of the word “irrational”, please. That means I acknowledge that there is no sense to my phobia, and yes, I can see how silly I must seem when my eyes wander around my room before I go to bed, my routine inspection ensuring that there are no spiders in the vicinity. (Past experiences include finally getting comfy, propping myself up to read a book, then noticing something out of the corner of my eye, followed by me turning to see a ghastly black outdoorsy spider crawling up my wall right beside my bare skin. Irolled leapt fell out of bed to
call for assistance, and even after the spider was disposed of I still
shuddered when thinking that it could have crawled on me as I slept, with
thoughts that it had been on that wall just moments
before.)
I know what you’re thinking; I get it all the time. I have a couple of friends who share my phobia, but the rest of them, my family included, will either laugh or tut at me. (Apparently it’s “funny” to get a spider and hold it in front of my face.) What’s more, I know how it feels to find another’s fear ludicrous. I can’t help but wonder what the fuss is about when some people will scream in terror at the sight of a mouse (that’s not often, of course, and I read about it more than I witness it). In fact, I slept in a room once only to be awoken by a rustling at 3 am that I at first tried to ignore. Then, as it persisted, bleary-eyed but awake, I saw a mouse with a chocolate button in its mouth, looking straight back at me with a cute air of innocence in its shiny, wide eyes. Yes, you read that correctly. Turns out I left a half-opened chocolate button bag on the floor (don’t ask) and it had obviously been stealing them! I didn’t leave food out again, and I didn’t mind the idea of mice (until they started being really noisy so I reluctantly put out traps). I guess it’s because I once owned two pet gerbils, and mice (even wild ones) aren’t all that different if you ask me (but then I always have been a crazily besotted animal lover). I’ve always questioned the phrase “quiet as a mouse” when I could hear them running, rustling and scratching really loudly!
What I’m trying to say is that I’m trying really hard to overcome my fear, and it doesn’t help when people tell you that “spiders don’t hurt you” or that I have to “just get over it”. I have a phobia; that doesn’t mean I’m thick. Don’t you think I know that, or if it was that easy to get over I would? Or did you think I enjoy being like this, my heart racing in panic at something that can’t hurt me at all? It’s hard to explain, but anybody who shares the same phobia will understand. In fact, even if you don’t, you might have a phobia of something else – in which case you should know how it feels. Try to apply your own feelings to another’s situation. No matter how many times you tell yourself you’re being silly, it doesn’t make you any less scared. That’s the thing about a phobia – it’s irrational.
Of course, arachnophobia is quite common and certainly isn’t the most restrictive fears of them all. However, it gets annoying when for example I, notoriously bad at timekeeping and usually ending up sleep deprived as a result, finally manage to plan the evening out: I get everything ready for an early shower only to find not one but two spiders in the upper corner of the shower. One thing is for sure – I’m annoyed, but glad I saw them before I got in. After all, what’s worse than being in a room with spiders? The answer is being in a small room with spiders – and without the minimal ‘protection’ of clothes, too.
Nobody else was at home, and wouldn’t be for another hour or so. With that, I had struck my plans back by an hour or more until the spiders could be banished from the area.
It is mini episodes like these, as well as the uneasiness of wondering what I’ll do when I’m older and living on my own, that make me want to overcome my fear. I’ve already done the first step by myself … I have begun to start hoovering up any spiders I see (yeah, I know – wow!). I don’t like to kill them – it’s not their fault I have a ridiculous fear and they possess eight gross, spindly legs – but my will to get rid of them somehow overrides this preference. Besides, not killing them would mean having to carefully prise a glass cup over them with the risk of them running away – or worse, falling on me if they’re on the ceiling. Yep, as an arachnophobic I make sure I cover all bases.
Believe it or not, it took me a few squeals and a long time to even get close enough to hoover them. Small spiders are easy enough. Big spiders look like they could crawl back up the pipe and avenge their mates by eating me or something – especially those high up on the wall, who wobble intimidatingly before being sucked up (apparently. I still have to leave the hoover well away from me just in case).
Anyway, I guess what’s left is getting over my fear completely. Can you imagine how amazing it would be for someone like me to finally hold a spider?
It’s not going to be easy. I know that to overcome your fear you have to face it. What I’m planning on doing is finding a (VERY PATIENT) person who will pick up a spider and gradually let me get used to them. I’m not sure how long that will take. I need someone who really understands – not some joker who will shove the spider in my face because of my reaction. It could take absolutely ages to get me to actually hold one. One of my main fears is them crawling all over me, so I think they would have to be held in my palm with a glass over the top of them at first, just to get used to the sensation. The odd thing is that I have no idea where my phobia first started. For as long as I can remember, spiders have scared me. As far as I know, I have never touched one. All I can do is imagine … and maybe that’s just it. There’s something about the unknown that’s sinister, isn’t there? Maybe my brain just fills in the gaps and magnifies the possibilities, e.g death.
On a closely related subject, I never used to be afraid of daddy long legs. I remember my dog trying to eat them, and I’d try to get her to leave them alone (those were the days). Now, they are horrible. What’s worse than spiders? Flying spiders. I know they’re actually flies, but try telling that to my grossed out brain. They might as well be spiders for all I’m scared of them. It’s not like I’m being paranoid on this one, either. They always bump into you with those great big legs, and I don’t see me becoming any less afraid despite the fact I’ve come into contact with them countless times (though not out of want, I can assure you). ‘Confront your fear’ sure hasn’t worked for me.
One thing’s for sure, and that is that I am nowhere near alone. Some people have arachnophobia at a level more extreme than me, I think. Maybe you’re one of those people. It would be interesting to know.
Random thought: even if you’re not afraid of them, surely you’d find it uncomfortable to have a spider lingering over your head at night? Or, if you see a spider, perhaps you’re not as paranoid as I am, and let it be. I’d like to hear what your thoughts are no matter what your stance!
And when I say phobia, I mean an irrational fear – note the use of the word “irrational”, please. That means I acknowledge that there is no sense to my phobia, and yes, I can see how silly I must seem when my eyes wander around my room before I go to bed, my routine inspection ensuring that there are no spiders in the vicinity. (Past experiences include finally getting comfy, propping myself up to read a book, then noticing something out of the corner of my eye, followed by me turning to see a ghastly black outdoorsy spider crawling up my wall right beside my bare skin. I
I know what you’re thinking; I get it all the time. I have a couple of friends who share my phobia, but the rest of them, my family included, will either laugh or tut at me. (Apparently it’s “funny” to get a spider and hold it in front of my face.) What’s more, I know how it feels to find another’s fear ludicrous. I can’t help but wonder what the fuss is about when some people will scream in terror at the sight of a mouse (that’s not often, of course, and I read about it more than I witness it). In fact, I slept in a room once only to be awoken by a rustling at 3 am that I at first tried to ignore. Then, as it persisted, bleary-eyed but awake, I saw a mouse with a chocolate button in its mouth, looking straight back at me with a cute air of innocence in its shiny, wide eyes. Yes, you read that correctly. Turns out I left a half-opened chocolate button bag on the floor (don’t ask) and it had obviously been stealing them! I didn’t leave food out again, and I didn’t mind the idea of mice (until they started being really noisy so I reluctantly put out traps). I guess it’s because I once owned two pet gerbils, and mice (even wild ones) aren’t all that different if you ask me (but then I always have been a crazily besotted animal lover). I’ve always questioned the phrase “quiet as a mouse” when I could hear them running, rustling and scratching really loudly!
What I’m trying to say is that I’m trying really hard to overcome my fear, and it doesn’t help when people tell you that “spiders don’t hurt you” or that I have to “just get over it”. I have a phobia; that doesn’t mean I’m thick. Don’t you think I know that, or if it was that easy to get over I would? Or did you think I enjoy being like this, my heart racing in panic at something that can’t hurt me at all? It’s hard to explain, but anybody who shares the same phobia will understand. In fact, even if you don’t, you might have a phobia of something else – in which case you should know how it feels. Try to apply your own feelings to another’s situation. No matter how many times you tell yourself you’re being silly, it doesn’t make you any less scared. That’s the thing about a phobia – it’s irrational.
Of course, arachnophobia is quite common and certainly isn’t the most restrictive fears of them all. However, it gets annoying when for example I, notoriously bad at timekeeping and usually ending up sleep deprived as a result, finally manage to plan the evening out: I get everything ready for an early shower only to find not one but two spiders in the upper corner of the shower. One thing is for sure – I’m annoyed, but glad I saw them before I got in. After all, what’s worse than being in a room with spiders? The answer is being in a small room with spiders – and without the minimal ‘protection’ of clothes, too.
Nobody else was at home, and wouldn’t be for another hour or so. With that, I had struck my plans back by an hour or more until the spiders could be banished from the area.
It is mini episodes like these, as well as the uneasiness of wondering what I’ll do when I’m older and living on my own, that make me want to overcome my fear. I’ve already done the first step by myself … I have begun to start hoovering up any spiders I see (yeah, I know – wow!). I don’t like to kill them – it’s not their fault I have a ridiculous fear and they possess eight gross, spindly legs – but my will to get rid of them somehow overrides this preference. Besides, not killing them would mean having to carefully prise a glass cup over them with the risk of them running away – or worse, falling on me if they’re on the ceiling. Yep, as an arachnophobic I make sure I cover all bases.
Believe it or not, it took me a few squeals and a long time to even get close enough to hoover them. Small spiders are easy enough. Big spiders look like they could crawl back up the pipe and avenge their mates by eating me or something – especially those high up on the wall, who wobble intimidatingly before being sucked up (apparently. I still have to leave the hoover well away from me just in case).
Anyway, I guess what’s left is getting over my fear completely. Can you imagine how amazing it would be for someone like me to finally hold a spider?
It’s not going to be easy. I know that to overcome your fear you have to face it. What I’m planning on doing is finding a (VERY PATIENT) person who will pick up a spider and gradually let me get used to them. I’m not sure how long that will take. I need someone who really understands – not some joker who will shove the spider in my face because of my reaction. It could take absolutely ages to get me to actually hold one. One of my main fears is them crawling all over me, so I think they would have to be held in my palm with a glass over the top of them at first, just to get used to the sensation. The odd thing is that I have no idea where my phobia first started. For as long as I can remember, spiders have scared me. As far as I know, I have never touched one. All I can do is imagine … and maybe that’s just it. There’s something about the unknown that’s sinister, isn’t there? Maybe my brain just fills in the gaps and magnifies the possibilities, e.g death.
On a closely related subject, I never used to be afraid of daddy long legs. I remember my dog trying to eat them, and I’d try to get her to leave them alone (those were the days). Now, they are horrible. What’s worse than spiders? Flying spiders. I know they’re actually flies, but try telling that to my grossed out brain. They might as well be spiders for all I’m scared of them. It’s not like I’m being paranoid on this one, either. They always bump into you with those great big legs, and I don’t see me becoming any less afraid despite the fact I’ve come into contact with them countless times (though not out of want, I can assure you). ‘Confront your fear’ sure hasn’t worked for me.
One thing’s for sure, and that is that I am nowhere near alone. Some people have arachnophobia at a level more extreme than me, I think. Maybe you’re one of those people. It would be interesting to know.
Random thought: even if you’re not afraid of them, surely you’d find it uncomfortable to have a spider lingering over your head at night? Or, if you see a spider, perhaps you’re not as paranoid as I am, and let it be. I’d like to hear what your thoughts are no matter what your stance!
