My Phobia

Phobia: n. an uncontrollable, irrational, and persistent fear.




I'm sure that I have plenty of phobias, but only one that I can tell is irrational, but yet it persists.

This is a little embarrassing, but I'm deathly afraid of statues. Cold sweat, stop breathing afraid.


I looked on the web to see if there was a name for my phobia since there are catalogues of phobias that include Latin names for things as obscure as being afraid of left-handed people. Well, if you do a search yourself, you will see that the name for my phobia is "Statue Phobia", or the real transcendentalists label it "Fear of Statues." C'mon! I want something Latin too!

I was surprised to learn that it's a fairly common phobia, and for only $147 I can get some CD's and a workbook sent in the mail that will cure me of it.

One site had Staurophobia listed, but when I cross-referenced I discovered that it's a fear of crucifixes. Uhm, don't have that problem, right Buddy Jesus?


So, statues:
It happened when I was a really little kid, posted up on the couch with my Orville Redenbacher "Natural Flavor" bag of popcorn watching Clash of the Titans.

As you can see from the trailer, its cutting edge state of the art special effects are fluid and realistic enough to stay with most people for 30 years or more. But, way back in 1st or 2nd grade, back when I used to love Greek mythology, back when I could spend the whole day drawing pictures and not feel like I had "wasted" my time, back when I had to be home before the street lights came on, I think I had some blurring along the periphery of the boundaries of what is fantasy and what is reality. (I think most of us still do, actually. I think as adults we believe that less than we want is possible in life, and as kids we think anything could be possible. At any rate,) A compelling movie has always fully captivated my little brains.



So, there: Sofa, popcorn, and a 2-foot version of me, totally engrossed.

I haven't seen the movie since, but to the best of my recollection, there is a scene where someone is talking to a statue who suddenly opens its eyes. Now, in that moment, there's the loud and unnerving sound effect of an orchestra, or something, hitting a minor chord; which is intended to startle and unnerve you, just to punctuate the startle reflex and milk you for all of the terror your imagination and your physiology can be combined to produce.


(As an aside: I wonder if it was actually Medusa getting her head cut off and then opening her eyes? I thought it would be cool to put up a picture of Medusa to open this post, but when I looked for images of Medusa I was so uncomfortable looking at them that I couldn't even click on a thumbnail to see if I liked the image. And, it left me unnerved enough that I wanted something up there that couldn't possibly have any negative associations. Strawberries! Wait- strawberries dipped in chocolate and then painted to look like tuxedos. Oh that's so cute!"


When I watched the trailer just now I saw that Medusa is a cgi that looks kinda like a statue, and has staccatic movements, kinda like the statues that move in the movie, and the monsters, and anything else the special effects department has rigged up.)


So, if you're still reading, my phobia actually is not of statues, there are statues all over town that I think are kinda cool. It's easier to use statues as a shorthand, but my phobia is actually far more specific. I am afraid of Greco-Roman styled, slightly larger than life sized, statues of a woman opening its eyes, and then killing me. Now, I know that there's no name for that one!


There's something in the moment of suddenly realizing that you haven't been alone, and moreover, you've been vulnerable without realizing it in the presence of someone who wishes you harm.

It's odd, but writing it out like that makes me realize that it overlaps a lot with where racism makes white people look terrifying to me. ...huh!

In any case, it's the eyes. It's in the eyes.

So, I went to a lecture a few weeks ago and I had to use the bathroom. Walking down the long corridor I noticed that there were some busts on mantles near the entrance to the bathroom. I didn't feel all that intrigued as I went in, but on the way out I decided to go take a look at them.

I came out of the bathroom, and there in front of me was a bust of someone's head carved in white stone, but someone had colored in the eyes red. RED! Well, could have been black, or brown, but my shocked little ass saw red.

"Nnyyaaa!" is what I said reflexively. Shoulders tightened up, every muscle in my body seized, and shivering, I closed my eyes and turned around to walk down the corridor back to the lecture.

And that's when I realized... I hadn't been alone in the corridor. Standing by himself, about 4 feet away from me was some man who was looking down at his Blackberry.

"Shit! Okay, just act natural. Don't make eye-contact, and walk down the hall as though nothing has happened. Maybe he'll think I have Tourettes."


"Maybe he thinks I have Tourettes!?!" Christ Jesus Alive! I comforted myself with the hope that someone thought I had Tourettes, not "Maybe he didn't hear me," or "Maybe he thought I was playing around," or "maybe I just looked really scared to him, and he was completely non-judgemental." Nope, let's swing for the fences with Tourettes.

You know, even I realize that the shit that goes through my head is both amusing and absurd sometimes. It's so kooky inside my brain sometimes that all I can do is watch and laugh.