Memorycemetery

OK, many people write here about their memories and dreams.
I would like to tap in subject of fears or phobias. Most of the phobias can’t be really traced. Some are probably imprinted in us. Let’s say, we don’t like snakes. I saw a snake first time when I was about 20, for instance, but remember, what when I was a kid, I always tried to sit in an armchair with legs up on the seat, as I was afraid what a snake would bite me from under. Even then I thought it can’t be possible what a snake would be on the 7th floor of our block of flats in a harsh winter, 20 Celsius below zero. But I couldn’t bring myself to put my feet down. I could spend a whole evening imagining scenarios of how a snake could sneak under my armchair.

Anyway, I suppose most of phobias are triggered by something in remote past, early childhood and long time forgotten memories. I can trace one my phobia though, as I can recall what happened to me.

I travelled to one remote city hitchhiking. I was very young, completely broke and wanted to see a girl I was in love with. To cut it short, she did not fancy me much and her boyfriend did even less. They lived in a massive hostel inhabited with hundreds students at that time. She had a kind heart, so instead of kicking me out I was fed and passed to a friend of hers who happened to live alone in a spacious room in that hostel. This friend of her was a girl of enormous size. She spoke in a deep low voice which could shake a glass and was torturing me all the way down along endless staircases and corridors with tales about her romantic adventures.
To be honest, my mind was occupied in that moment so I couldn’t remember what they were about even the next day, do not mention years later.

Eventually I found myself in her room. It was filled with hundreds of little objects. Everything was of dwarfs’ size. The girl obviously tried her best to fit in that space as many tiny objects as possible. Everything there was organized by a principle “the smaller is the better”. She had dolls’ furniture and cutlery, small carpets, miniature stereo and lots of stupid useless toy objects which she apparently was collecting.
It was too much… Simply beyond my capability to digest it. I left her place at once with a splitting headache.
That’s how I recognized that I have a psychological trauma about everything little.
Small things are just freaking me out; I don’t like dwarf pets, dogs and ponies either.

I wonder what I can do with it. Well, some people could say that phobias and fixations are the integral part of our individuality. Phobium ergo est. I’m scared, therefore I exist. Johnny Depp is afraid of clowns for instance. They are freaking him out, he said in his recent interview. I’ve met a girl while ago who confessed she is afraid of balloons. What’s wrong with clowns? What’s wrong with fucking balloons? Why do I have to feel uneasy surrounded by small objects? I tried to google my phobia, but couldn’t find even a specific name for it, so there was no way to find out how I can deal with it.
It’s not a serious problem though, just a little annoyance.
I have learnt anyway what one of the best ways to deal with phobias is to talk about them. That’s what this post is about actually, so you know.

abraxus

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