|No way am I going in there!|
Image courtesy of Robert Linder, rgbstock.com
One day I wanted a new place to read, so I looked around my bedroom and decided that I would read under my bed instead of in it. I crawled under and opened my book. After a while, I realized I was hungry, so I closed the book and attempted to slide out from under the bed. I say attempted because I couldn't move. My hair, which at that time was down to the middle of my back, had gotten stuck in the bed's exposed springs. I was trapped!
I remember screaming for my dad, and it seemed like an eternity before he got to the room. He found me in a state of absolute panic. The space that had felt so cozy and secure was suddenly tight and menacing. I was crying hysterically, my breath coming in panicked gasps. The floor was too close to me; the carpet would surely smother me. I knew that I would die. Finally, though, my dad managed to untangle my hair from the springs and pull me from beneath the bed. I could breathe! I never went under that bed again—not even to rescue books or toys. I sent my younger sister in for those.
Ever since that moment, I've been afraid of small, confined spaces. I even have a hard time reading about people who are in those situations, and seeing them is even worse. It's as if I'm the one in the enclosed space. I panic; I can't breathe.
A couple of weeks ago, I watched a TV show in which a man was lying on his back and using his feet to push himself into a tiny cave. The ceiling was so close to him—mere inches away—and he couldn't turn over. I panicked. My breathing grew shallow; I felt like I was running out of oxygen. I was in that cave with him, and all I wanted was to get out. My heart is racing even as I type this...
It's only the wide-open spaces for me.
What about you? Do you have any phobias you just can't shake?