Bryan W. Alaspa 1It's a phobia, dammit!
April 6th 2010 13:16
I hate thunderstorms. I mean, I really, really, really hate them. I am terrified of them and have been since as long as I can remember. Other people talk about how much they love them. I even know people who deliberately open their windows and find the whole rain and thunder thing "soothing." They love to sit places and watch the lightning. I do not understand these people.
This is what is called a phobia. I one time looked it up and it was called "astraphobia" or something like that. If it was called "Astrophobia" I might at least have a good "Jetsons" reference to make, but I am pretty sure it was "astra." A phobia is an illogical fear of something. That means you know that, more than likely, the lightning is not going to reach through the window and get you. You know that you live in Chicago and realize that it is unlikely to have tornadoes, but no matter how logically one part of your brain is talking, the other part is cowering in fear. The other part of your brain, and it is a much louder, more convincing part, is sure that the lightning is not only going to get you, but is actively looking for you.
When I was a kid this manifested itself in outright terror. I would literally hide when the storms came. I would burst into tears. Many was the night that my poor mother slept on the floor of my bedroom when I was about 8-years-old because I was so terrified of the thunder during the night.
Of course, the fear manifested itself strangely when I was an adult, too. I spent three years living in St. Louis where, during the summer, the average temperature was 9,000 degrees in the shade with 500,000% humidity. Try living for three years in an active sauna and you'll get the idea. There roughly 9,0000000000000000000000 thunderstorms a week there during the summer. They came at all hours and I went through a divorce and the friends who lived next door moved away and I was illogically convinced that when thunderstorms came, I would end up crushed beneath a wall of my apartment and never be found.
How did this manifest itself physically? If I heard thunder in the middle of the night, even if it was 3 a.m., I would get up, put on my clothes, leave my confused dog looking on, and drive to a 24-hour grocery store. I felt I had to be near other people. I don't know why. I was nuts. I would stand in the magazine aisle and read while the one cashier on duty looked at me strangely and the guy with that floor-polishing mini-Zamboni would walk by and wave.
These days I am not quite that bad. I do still get up in the middle of the night, but now I obsessively watch The Weather Channel or go to my computer and study the weather websites and radar returns. I do not sleep comfortably through most thunderstorms. Thankfully, though, the windows and walls of the apartment building I live in are thick and I mostly cannot hear them.
I do not like spring and summer. This is because of thunderstorms. If the day is gorgeous for 80% of the day and cloudless with blue skies and bright sun, but I know a front is supposed to come through that night and bring severe weather, the entire day is ruined. I cannot just go out and enjoy the good hours. I obsessively worry about when the storms will come and what I can to to be safe from them.
So, pity me the poor, deluded, nutso, warped person during these months. I find blizzards comfy and they make me feel homey and safe. Thunderstorms remind me that the universe is random and that a bolt from above can kill you in an instant with no rhyme or reason.
Plus, I just know there is a funnel cloud out there with my name on it. I know it!
This is what is called a phobia. I one time looked it up and it was called "astraphobia" or something like that. If it was called "Astrophobia" I might at least have a good "Jetsons" reference to make, but I am pretty sure it was "astra." A phobia is an illogical fear of something. That means you know that, more than likely, the lightning is not going to reach through the window and get you. You know that you live in Chicago and realize that it is unlikely to have tornadoes, but no matter how logically one part of your brain is talking, the other part is cowering in fear. The other part of your brain, and it is a much louder, more convincing part, is sure that the lightning is not only going to get you, but is actively looking for you.
When I was a kid this manifested itself in outright terror. I would literally hide when the storms came. I would burst into tears. Many was the night that my poor mother slept on the floor of my bedroom when I was about 8-years-old because I was so terrified of the thunder during the night.
Of course, the fear manifested itself strangely when I was an adult, too. I spent three years living in St. Louis where, during the summer, the average temperature was 9,000 degrees in the shade with 500,000% humidity. Try living for three years in an active sauna and you'll get the idea. There roughly 9,0000000000000000000000 thunderstorms a week there during the summer. They came at all hours and I went through a divorce and the friends who lived next door moved away and I was illogically convinced that when thunderstorms came, I would end up crushed beneath a wall of my apartment and never be found.
How did this manifest itself physically? If I heard thunder in the middle of the night, even if it was 3 a.m., I would get up, put on my clothes, leave my confused dog looking on, and drive to a 24-hour grocery store. I felt I had to be near other people. I don't know why. I was nuts. I would stand in the magazine aisle and read while the one cashier on duty looked at me strangely and the guy with that floor-polishing mini-Zamboni would walk by and wave.
These days I am not quite that bad. I do still get up in the middle of the night, but now I obsessively watch The Weather Channel or go to my computer and study the weather websites and radar returns. I do not sleep comfortably through most thunderstorms. Thankfully, though, the windows and walls of the apartment building I live in are thick and I mostly cannot hear them.
I do not like spring and summer. This is because of thunderstorms. If the day is gorgeous for 80% of the day and cloudless with blue skies and bright sun, but I know a front is supposed to come through that night and bring severe weather, the entire day is ruined. I cannot just go out and enjoy the good hours. I obsessively worry about when the storms will come and what I can to to be safe from them.
So, pity me the poor, deluded, nutso, warped person during these months. I find blizzards comfy and they make me feel homey and safe. Thunderstorms remind me that the universe is random and that a bolt from above can kill you in an instant with no rhyme or reason.
Plus, I just know there is a funnel cloud out there with my name on it. I know it!
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