These are the top ten phobias in the United States
A phobia, by the way, is an irrational fear.
1. Acrophobia: fear of heights
2. Aerophobia: fear of flying
3. Agoraphobia: fear of panicking and then not being able to escape (usually explained as a fear of crowds, as in Emily Dickinson)
4. Arachnophobia: fear of spiders
5. Brontophobia: fear of thunder
6. Carcinophobia: fear of cancer
7. Claustrophobia: fear of closed spaces
8. Emetophobia: fear of vomiting
9. Necrophobia: fear of death
10. Sociophobia: fear of people or social situations
Why do we have phobias? And how many of these can you truthfully say you have been stricken with at some point? I can admit to 1, 3, 4, and 6, at least. Do phobias help us in any way? Typically, fear is learned as a helpful response to avoid danger or injury. A fear of say, cancer, is only a waste of energy, and yet why do some find themselves victims to these fears? What can we do to avoid them? Are some of us hardwired for fear?
I think that perhaps our fears are a reflection of an insecurity or a projection of fear onto a common or inane object. For example, perhaps my fear of spiders is a projection of a more rational fear (say abandonment or failure) onto the simple insect? Another thing: no one ever said that the things people fear the most are irrational because they are not scary or dangerous. Perhaps some of us have evolved a super sensitive sense of fear to things with relatively low risk through one bad experience or a simple neurosis. Flying can be dangerous. It is rational to fear heights to stop one from plunging to his death. Crowds can be very dangerous, as a person could be trampled or assaulted, and we all know the dangers of mob mentality. Some spiders are poisonous, (and well the others are downright gross) and should not be touched. I do not need to go into all of the fears, but each has a reason for its legitimacy, and yet the phobia is like carrying this fear past normal boundaries into obsession. Any thoughts?
Monday, June 25, 2007
Inner Strength/Outer Turmoil
"Lean on me, when you're not strong,
I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on.
Because, it won't be long, till I'm gonna need
somebody to lean on."
"When the sun shines, we'll shine together
Told you I'll be here forever
Said I'll always be a friend
Took an oath I'ma stick it out till the end
Now that it's raining more than ever
Know that we'll still have each other
You can stand under my umbrella "
With the knowledge that I just posted lyrics not quite as poetic as they are catchy, I will proceed to explain my reason for this:
This weekend I got to thinking about love and strength. I believe that women in the U.S. are conditioned to believe that a man should step in and save them, and that this is the man they will marry. This is a theme prevalent in Western culture, reflecting the patriarchal values of societies in many countries. We look at Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel, and Snow White as our guides. They are beautiful and privileged women (except for Cinderella, a testament to marrying up) who were saved by love. In these tales, the women are on the verge of destruction until a Prince Charming sweeps in to save the day. What is so strange, to me, about these stories is that the male counterparts of these ingenues sacrifice very little to save the ladies in peril, and always end up marrying them. Do we ask to be saved?
Sometimes I find myself falling into this feeling of codependency, and i wait to be swept away by love. I have been. There is a difference: while I have been saved by love, I have also done the saving. I know that there have been many instances in which I have been the heroine to my love, and I have sacrificed much in the meantime. In our sacrifices to each other we have found not only the allure of love, but a long-lasting relationship and respect. We save each other. There is no dominant partner here, only a realization that we need one another to survive in this cruel world. Because of the reciprocity of this claim, we have come to appreciate and respect one another, and on this is a true and equal relationship born.
I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on.
Because, it won't be long, till I'm gonna need
somebody to lean on."
"When the sun shines, we'll shine together
Told you I'll be here forever
Said I'll always be a friend
Took an oath I'ma stick it out till the end
Now that it's raining more than ever
Know that we'll still have each other
You can stand under my umbrella "
With the knowledge that I just posted lyrics not quite as poetic as they are catchy, I will proceed to explain my reason for this:
This weekend I got to thinking about love and strength. I believe that women in the U.S. are conditioned to believe that a man should step in and save them, and that this is the man they will marry. This is a theme prevalent in Western culture, reflecting the patriarchal values of societies in many countries. We look at Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Rapunzel, and Snow White as our guides. They are beautiful and privileged women (except for Cinderella, a testament to marrying up) who were saved by love. In these tales, the women are on the verge of destruction until a Prince Charming sweeps in to save the day. What is so strange, to me, about these stories is that the male counterparts of these ingenues sacrifice very little to save the ladies in peril, and always end up marrying them. Do we ask to be saved?
Sometimes I find myself falling into this feeling of codependency, and i wait to be swept away by love. I have been. There is a difference: while I have been saved by love, I have also done the saving. I know that there have been many instances in which I have been the heroine to my love, and I have sacrificed much in the meantime. In our sacrifices to each other we have found not only the allure of love, but a long-lasting relationship and respect. We save each other. There is no dominant partner here, only a realization that we need one another to survive in this cruel world. Because of the reciprocity of this claim, we have come to appreciate and respect one another, and on this is a true and equal relationship born.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
The heights
Okay well I am not quite there yet, but I am getting there.
I realized today, concretely, the power of communication. I spoke to my mother on the phone and I was able to say things, more things than I knew I had to say. I communicated things that, until the moment they left my lips were known only subconsciously. They had been there all along, but I had not so much as thought of them willingly. But they were there, and I found them, and vocalized them. I felt the words leaving my lips in a flurry and listened intently as idea after idea flowed into the phone and my mother's ear. I was enthralled at the idea that I was communicating on such a level that even my conscious mind considered it unconquered territory.
I have a better idea now of who I am and who I want to become. It is coming together in my mind piece by piece as each day passes. I want to become a shelter from the storm of humanity to the people I love. I want to become a warm blanket to shroud them from the frigidity of hatred. I want to become the sharp blade of a sword, threatening and still, to protect them from anger. I want to be a resource in the confusion of living. I want to be a source of joy in the otherwise sullen lives of my loved ones. I want to be a candle in the darkness of the soul, and to illuminate all those around me. I hope to be all of these things and more. I am willing to sacrifice, to shelter, to protect and calm, to enlighten and enrich, and to exalt each precious soul that has turned to me and will continue to turn to me in the search for love.
I can be all of these things,
and I will.
I realized today, concretely, the power of communication. I spoke to my mother on the phone and I was able to say things, more things than I knew I had to say. I communicated things that, until the moment they left my lips were known only subconsciously. They had been there all along, but I had not so much as thought of them willingly. But they were there, and I found them, and vocalized them. I felt the words leaving my lips in a flurry and listened intently as idea after idea flowed into the phone and my mother's ear. I was enthralled at the idea that I was communicating on such a level that even my conscious mind considered it unconquered territory.
I have a better idea now of who I am and who I want to become. It is coming together in my mind piece by piece as each day passes. I want to become a shelter from the storm of humanity to the people I love. I want to become a warm blanket to shroud them from the frigidity of hatred. I want to become the sharp blade of a sword, threatening and still, to protect them from anger. I want to be a resource in the confusion of living. I want to be a source of joy in the otherwise sullen lives of my loved ones. I want to be a candle in the darkness of the soul, and to illuminate all those around me. I hope to be all of these things and more. I am willing to sacrifice, to shelter, to protect and calm, to enlighten and enrich, and to exalt each precious soul that has turned to me and will continue to turn to me in the search for love.
I can be all of these things,
and I will.
The depths
I am feeling...defeated. I don't know how else to communicate the way that I feel right now. My mind is absolutely overwhelmed. I wish that there were more I could write, but words are not coming. I can only say that I feel defeated in this instance. I want to have the answers to life's problems, and I am faced time and time again with the reality that I do not and will not. And yet I continue to hope.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Admit.
After a conversation yesterday with my life coach, Krysta, I had a serious thought session inside of an MRI machine.
Perhaps I should back up and explain myself.
I asked her opinion on whether or not I should ask the fiance' to go to the hospital with me for this test. Her best friend had one recently and had brought her husband, and I was looking for some insight. Her answer made me think. She said that Jen had appreciated her husband being there, that knowing he was outside waiting for her had helped her remain calm. She said, besides that, "sometimes it is good to let them know that you need them." I thought about the enormity of this thought. It is hard for me to let anyone know that I need them. I go through life like so many people protesting my need of anyone to survive or enjoy life. I thought of the small ways in which I refuse to concede, even now. The times I will bang jars against the counter top and pull on their lids until my hands turn bright red before asking for him to open them. The times I get a chair from another room and carry it to my closet to reach the top shelf rather than asking for assistance.
But these are small matters.
What is more important are the matters of the soul that I refuse to ask for assistance with. We have had these conversations before, and I am certain we will again.
"Why don't you talk to me about it?"
Well why don't I? Because I want to figure it out on my own? It is hard to explain but each time I acknowledge my inability to do something without assistance, I feel as though I am losing a little bit of my self. I suppose it all boils down to the mantras of the single girl: yes I can, yes I will!
You feel that if you get used to the help of a guy, and rely on him, and someday he is gone, it will be hard to accept. You will feel inadequate. And being a kick-ass female is all about protesting your adequacy loudly and proudly day after day!
Why? Because I can! I will!
So here I am, contemplating my inadequacy to ask for help when I truly want and need it, while inside of a white plastic mask, under a sheet, locked into a tunnel of excruciating noise. My eyes start to tear up and my brain screams, "let me out of here!" but suddenly falls calm as I realize that when my 15 minutes is up, I will be let out, and he will be waiting for me. And he was.
Perhaps I should back up and explain myself.
I asked her opinion on whether or not I should ask the fiance' to go to the hospital with me for this test. Her best friend had one recently and had brought her husband, and I was looking for some insight. Her answer made me think. She said that Jen had appreciated her husband being there, that knowing he was outside waiting for her had helped her remain calm. She said, besides that, "sometimes it is good to let them know that you need them." I thought about the enormity of this thought. It is hard for me to let anyone know that I need them. I go through life like so many people protesting my need of anyone to survive or enjoy life. I thought of the small ways in which I refuse to concede, even now. The times I will bang jars against the counter top and pull on their lids until my hands turn bright red before asking for him to open them. The times I get a chair from another room and carry it to my closet to reach the top shelf rather than asking for assistance.
But these are small matters.
What is more important are the matters of the soul that I refuse to ask for assistance with. We have had these conversations before, and I am certain we will again.
"Why don't you talk to me about it?"
Well why don't I? Because I want to figure it out on my own? It is hard to explain but each time I acknowledge my inability to do something without assistance, I feel as though I am losing a little bit of my self. I suppose it all boils down to the mantras of the single girl: yes I can, yes I will!
You feel that if you get used to the help of a guy, and rely on him, and someday he is gone, it will be hard to accept. You will feel inadequate. And being a kick-ass female is all about protesting your adequacy loudly and proudly day after day!
Why? Because I can! I will!
So here I am, contemplating my inadequacy to ask for help when I truly want and need it, while inside of a white plastic mask, under a sheet, locked into a tunnel of excruciating noise. My eyes start to tear up and my brain screams, "let me out of here!" but suddenly falls calm as I realize that when my 15 minutes is up, I will be let out, and he will be waiting for me. And he was.
Monday, June 4, 2007
Krysta's Thought for the Day
Question: How often do you assume that what you hate most about yourself exists in other people? More importantly, what do your relationships look like as a result of not loving yourself completely?
I know the answers to these questions intuitively, as I have raked my soul across hot coals to answer them truthfully before. I know that there are things about myself that I resent existing; I can feel the sore spots in my being. Those also seem to be some of the things that I resent most in others. Now I don't think I need to write them out for the potential world to see, but i do think that it is vital to my understanding and appreciation (yes appreciation!) of myself that I know what these things are. You cannot hope to understand yourself only by focusing on the things that you feel confident about. You should be able to understand the weaknesses in your character.
Why?
Well this takes us to the second question. We need to heal ourselves and forgive ourselves in order to give ourselves fully to another person. There is no part of my being that i have not inspected time and again in the past four years. I know that I have surveyed any aspect of myself that i could think of. I am giving myself to someone for all eternity, and I felt like I should know what HE is in for. I came up with a sort of mental list. It was refreshing (yes, I swear) to admit that I am messy and enjoy dropping everything on the floor when I walk in from work. Or that I avoid confrontation until i am too angry to speak calmly. I stopped denying things that I hated about myself. I stopped criticizing people for things (like being lazy or non-confrontational) and I started - gasp - appreciating and loving myself more. And guess what happened? I opened myself up to be loved and appreciated more in return.
Now that wasn't hard, was it?
I know the answers to these questions intuitively, as I have raked my soul across hot coals to answer them truthfully before. I know that there are things about myself that I resent existing; I can feel the sore spots in my being. Those also seem to be some of the things that I resent most in others. Now I don't think I need to write them out for the potential world to see, but i do think that it is vital to my understanding and appreciation (yes appreciation!) of myself that I know what these things are. You cannot hope to understand yourself only by focusing on the things that you feel confident about. You should be able to understand the weaknesses in your character.
Why?
Well this takes us to the second question. We need to heal ourselves and forgive ourselves in order to give ourselves fully to another person. There is no part of my being that i have not inspected time and again in the past four years. I know that I have surveyed any aspect of myself that i could think of. I am giving myself to someone for all eternity, and I felt like I should know what HE is in for. I came up with a sort of mental list. It was refreshing (yes, I swear) to admit that I am messy and enjoy dropping everything on the floor when I walk in from work. Or that I avoid confrontation until i am too angry to speak calmly. I stopped denying things that I hated about myself. I stopped criticizing people for things (like being lazy or non-confrontational) and I started - gasp - appreciating and loving myself more. And guess what happened? I opened myself up to be loved and appreciated more in return.
Now that wasn't hard, was it?
Thursday, May 10, 2007
My journey
My journey starts today.
Perhaps my journey started a little over one year ago on the day that I graduated from college. That is the moment that so many people feel defines the start of adulthood. I know I felt it long before then.
I have always put things into perspective. I always believed this to be an asset. I have had the ability to ruminate on conditions and events and put them into a larger context that would not define me, but enrich me. I never sought out definition. I viewed my life like a collage, each added picture contributed to the overall. I could never describe myself in one word, even ten. Imagine describing a collage in more than one word; it would be impossible. Each new contribution to my life has left a mark on me, never to be erased or removed. As I age, I become more complex and more beautiful. The stories that fill my mind and leave my mouth are the patches of my quilt of existence. I would be naked without them. Each fact, each moment, each experience I have carefully hoarded and saved away, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pull it out in all its glory. This being said, why would I want to define myself in one word?
In my culture, you do not ask someone what they are like or what they enjoy, you
ask them what they do. This is especially strange when you realize that so many people do not enjoy what they do for a living. So many people feel stressed, forced and pushed into categories. I defy categories. When asked what I do, even now as I sit behind a desk, working a job that certainly has a title, I never answer that question in one word. Some people probably think of me as merely wordy, trying to elevate my status with a series of words. I am doing nothing of the sort. I am merely trying to explain myself in a few words as possible, and nothing I do is plain enough to be described in one word. I hope it never will be.
I don’t have to be anywhere or do anything special. The things that may end up defining my life may seem simple to others, in fact I can guarantee they will. All that matters is that I am confident in my choices or my refusal to choose. Maybe not making a choice is my choice, and there is nothing wrong with that. I have tried to steer the people I know and love into decisions which will make them happy. I try to help them find a way to succeed that fulfills their purpose and brings them joy. I suppose it is easy for me to encourage someone else to find the “path not taken” while I enjoy a life of privilege and worry about nothing. I would make it on my own, I am confident of this, and yet I do not have to, not completely, and I use this to my advantage. I take advantage of every minute that I have to follow my passions, and for this I have no regrets. If the experiences of my life, good or bad, were spread in ink across my skin, despite my young age, it would be full. I am proud of this. I see beauty even in sadness, doubt and defeat, because I see life in it. I do not see the beauty in holding a job because it pays well and marrying a person because he or she fits into the life I am joining. I will submit to nothing. I will follow my heart.
I can see myself holding many positions and titles in my life, and this does not bother me at all. I am not focused on the long term ramifications of my career decisions. I focus from one moment to the next on following my heart and doing something I enjoy. I could list endlessly the things that I am passionate about, and this may come close to describing who I am, but any good writer knows that passions alone do not make a character. Of course there are reasons, facts, feelings, and stories behind them. There are always stories. I, for one, will not be placed in any box. In my lifetime I hope to hold a multitude of titles, in fact, I hope to hold many at once. I sincerely hope that at the end of this life, whenever that is for me, I can walk confidently into the next knowing that no matter what I did right or wrong, I lived. I want to know that I did what I thought was right for me in every instance, that I chose the decisions of my heart over my head (or anyone else’s for that matter), and that I lived from one happiness to the next.
Perhaps my journey started a little over one year ago on the day that I graduated from college. That is the moment that so many people feel defines the start of adulthood. I know I felt it long before then.
I have always put things into perspective. I always believed this to be an asset. I have had the ability to ruminate on conditions and events and put them into a larger context that would not define me, but enrich me. I never sought out definition. I viewed my life like a collage, each added picture contributed to the overall. I could never describe myself in one word, even ten. Imagine describing a collage in more than one word; it would be impossible. Each new contribution to my life has left a mark on me, never to be erased or removed. As I age, I become more complex and more beautiful. The stories that fill my mind and leave my mouth are the patches of my quilt of existence. I would be naked without them. Each fact, each moment, each experience I have carefully hoarded and saved away, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pull it out in all its glory. This being said, why would I want to define myself in one word?
In my culture, you do not ask someone what they are like or what they enjoy, you
ask them what they do. This is especially strange when you realize that so many people do not enjoy what they do for a living. So many people feel stressed, forced and pushed into categories. I defy categories. When asked what I do, even now as I sit behind a desk, working a job that certainly has a title, I never answer that question in one word. Some people probably think of me as merely wordy, trying to elevate my status with a series of words. I am doing nothing of the sort. I am merely trying to explain myself in a few words as possible, and nothing I do is plain enough to be described in one word. I hope it never will be.
I don’t have to be anywhere or do anything special. The things that may end up defining my life may seem simple to others, in fact I can guarantee they will. All that matters is that I am confident in my choices or my refusal to choose. Maybe not making a choice is my choice, and there is nothing wrong with that. I have tried to steer the people I know and love into decisions which will make them happy. I try to help them find a way to succeed that fulfills their purpose and brings them joy. I suppose it is easy for me to encourage someone else to find the “path not taken” while I enjoy a life of privilege and worry about nothing. I would make it on my own, I am confident of this, and yet I do not have to, not completely, and I use this to my advantage. I take advantage of every minute that I have to follow my passions, and for this I have no regrets. If the experiences of my life, good or bad, were spread in ink across my skin, despite my young age, it would be full. I am proud of this. I see beauty even in sadness, doubt and defeat, because I see life in it. I do not see the beauty in holding a job because it pays well and marrying a person because he or she fits into the life I am joining. I will submit to nothing. I will follow my heart.
I can see myself holding many positions and titles in my life, and this does not bother me at all. I am not focused on the long term ramifications of my career decisions. I focus from one moment to the next on following my heart and doing something I enjoy. I could list endlessly the things that I am passionate about, and this may come close to describing who I am, but any good writer knows that passions alone do not make a character. Of course there are reasons, facts, feelings, and stories behind them. There are always stories. I, for one, will not be placed in any box. In my lifetime I hope to hold a multitude of titles, in fact, I hope to hold many at once. I sincerely hope that at the end of this life, whenever that is for me, I can walk confidently into the next knowing that no matter what I did right or wrong, I lived. I want to know that I did what I thought was right for me in every instance, that I chose the decisions of my heart over my head (or anyone else’s for that matter), and that I lived from one happiness to the next.
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