Phobia

I have a phobia. Just one. Not that I don't have other fears, because I very much do. It's just that those other fears have a basis in reality--I understand where they come from.

I'm moderately afraid of heights. Because of the potential falling to my death part. But it only comes into play after a certain distance from the ground in certain circumstances. I'm also afraid of bugs. This one's a little less understandable, but they're gross. Also, some of them could sting/bite me. And, like any sane person, I am not too fond of the notion of my house going up in flames, or being mugged, or being hit by lightning. But those aren't really things I think about much. They don't hinder my everyday activity or even bother me much at all.

No. I have a particular brand of irrational fear known as Thalassophobia. Fear of the ocean. I don't know why I have the particular urge to tell this story today, except that while I was studying in the library I was looking out at the waves on the lake and that must have sparked a little bit of that fear in my brain. Who knows.

But back to my phobia. I don't know where it came from. I can't think of a single traumatic event in my past that would cause this. I always loved visiting the ocean and swimming in it--in fact, I still do. Let me explain.

I'm not afraid of swimming in the ocean. I'm not terrified of drowning or being eaten by sharks or stung by jellyfish (though those are all experiences I'd prefer to avoid). It's just the ocean itself. To the point where I can't go to aquariums without feeling panic. I can't look at videos or even pictures of the vast expanse of water without feeling nauseous. I don't really like thinking too deeply (teehee. pun.) about the ocean either.

I have a friend who's a psychology major. This is way too fun for her. She enjoys discussing how she, when she is a fully trained, practicing psychologist, would go about curing me. This is what it boils down to: we would work our way up in little increments so I can handle more and more of the scary. Or, in a process called "flooding" (creepy), I would be forced to experience my worst possible situation first, right away, all at once. For me, that's those aquariums where you walk in a tunnel and the ocean is around you on all sides, separated by just the merest margin of plexiglass. I'm shuddering thinking about it.

This fear has ruined a lot of things for me. I can never work at Pacific Life Insurance, because I'd probably have to see their logo all the time with that whale jumping out of the ocean. I can never enjoy the wonder that is Shark Week. And I can no longer watch Finding Nemo. I loved that movie. Damn you, thalassophobia. Taking Nemo from me.

I'm hoping this is just a phase. A years-long, terrifying phase, but a phase nonetheless. Perhaps I'll grow out of this and thalassophobia will join the Easy-Bake Oven, *NSync posters, and stirrup pants at the back of my closet. Until that day comes, I'll still cringe at the sight of the waves and keep Finding Nemo on the shelf.

Wait. I take that back. Stirrup pants are so coming back.