Meme - What Are You Afraid Of ?

I have many fears, some common, some considered irrational however none quite have the same physical effect on me as the mortifying one I shall be sharing.

Tagged by Yummy Mummy No 1  

Darth Vader and Storm Troopers.

As a child I watched the Star Wars movies and remember regularly role-playing with the kids in the street as we used our "lightsabers" to battle (luckily, I was the only girl and could be Princess Leia) I also remember doing the same to "Dempsey and Makepeace" but that's a whole other Meme. My apprehension to Darth Vader has always been there, I can remember fearing his presence on the screen but that's were my anxiety ended.

Over the years it appears to have developed further into more of a phobia. Not seeing the black mask image and hearing that breathing frequently over the years, I'm not sure why the fear became irrational. Surely it should have dwindled with maturity and remained a childhood fear?

Working in a call centre, managers regularly akin costumes motivational purposes, looking past the fact that a grown man walking around dressed as Buzz Lightyear or Fred Flinstone causes a slump and temporary depression rather than boosting morale. I walked into the building one day to find several men dressed as Yoda, Darth Maul and Storm Troopers, I felt my heart literally drop and my stomach turn. I remember feeling hazy and my vision blurring a little while the panic set in with the realisation that I was surrounded.

I have never been keen on masks and have often taken dislike to some of the costumes at work (unfortunately it would appear that Banks like to spend money on vast selections of fancy dress as well as massive bonuses) particularly at Halloween, so my close friends and manager could predict my reaction.

I could feel breathless as I scanned the room for help but my eyes resting on the crème de la crème of terror. Darth Vader.

Don't get me wrong, the costume was far from wonderful quality and it was a far cry from Darth in the film but I can only describe the sensation as sheer terror, despite knowing the person who was inside it.  I caught sight of my manager herding the Star Wars ensemble to another part of the (fortunately)  large office while another colleague held the doors open wide for me to flee. But I couldn't run away in case....I was CHASED!

The only thing worse than seeing Darth Vader would be to be chased by him. I actually feel ill just typing that.

A few years previously I was working for a concert promoter who hired the Manchester Evening News Arena to hold a Star Wars Convention and a perk of the job was to attend for free. It was in line with the promotion of the new movies which fans where flying to America just to view the trailer in cinemas.

Walking round the tedious exhibits of film props and vehicles, seeing behind the scenes footage on massive screens, I wandered aimlessly between each room as the area had been divided into sections by thick black curtains. The final section for me was empty, everyone stood around looking a little confused at the balcony with stairs, at the far end of the make shift room. Then they appear...

Storm Troopers, marching into the room, bloody loads of them. I froze, this must be the point of turning, this is the moment when it became a phobia. The Storm Troopers walked between the small crowd and stood with guns pointed at us, surrounding us. I think I was panting and unable to talk. I know I wasn't going to move in case I attracted more attention from them. Then Darth Vader walked onto the balcony. I'm not sure if the costumes where directly from the movie but they were certainly fantastic quality. As good as it gets. Darth's breathing echoed around the room and he started to walk slowly down the stairs. I managed to refrain from curling into the foetal position and urinating, remaining statuesque as the Storm Troopers "arrested" one of the crowd and escorted him out of the area, flanked by Darth Vader. I left the arena in tears.

You may think that such a phobia is rarely tested as I can simply avoid the film and with prior knowledge can elude the fancy dress clad call centre managers, but when walking into the local shopping precinct with your partner on a Saturday afternoon, you don't expect to walk into a Sci-Fi convention.

I was too late. We were in the central courtyard and had missed all of the promotional posters, not realising what I was about to face until I saw six Storm Troopers walk out of Burtons holding their guns. I took refuge in Iceland, shaking with panic. I had only just moved in with OH and if he knew of my dislike for Darth and his white scary entourage, he certainly wasn't aware of  the dramatic reaction I would display. I tried to contain some of it and I am convinced he thought it was me acting or hamming it up, but I physically couldn't force my body to leave the safety of Iceland. Our planned shopping trip of two hours while our car was being valeted, I insisted was no longer plausible. Assuring him that If he got me safely from the central courtyard to the multi-storey car park, I would wait for him there but again, sheer terror was preventing me from functioning normally. Standing there feeling helpless and childlike, holding his hand and fighting off the dizziness that would cause me to drop to the floor if I allowed it, I tried to convey the absolute funk taking over my very being, whilst giggling in dismay, trying to laugh off the stupidity of what was causing me to react this way, thinking that he would be asking me to pack my bags when we arrived home or would be calling for my sectioning under the mental health act.

It's really hard to describe the effect fear has upon you but even hours later, my legs were still shaking, my body ached and I felt wired with adrenaline.

Apart from the odd email sent every now and then by colleagues, when they remember my fear (I notice them all swing back in their chairs and look towards me as the email pops up containing a Storm Trooper photograph) and an occasion when I sat in Pizza hut about to start my meal when I noticed a promotional six foot Darth Maul a few feet behind, causing me to leave before eating, my phobia isn't alarmed daily.

It's something I'm embarrassed of and something that can easily be taken advantage of. People don't get ridiculed for fear of heights! But I do laugh along too when others mock, even though my insides are churning and I fight not to faint.



I shall be brave now and look for supporting pictures for my post. Maybe if I squint and partially close my eyes, I won't be as frightened?

Slightly Miffed

5 ish years ago my first marriage broke down.

A shock to all, neither of us having given a hint of any troubles or woes. 

It had been my decision to end it and even though he fought the inevitable every step of the way, he finally conceded and accepted I no longer loved him, eventually leaving our home, for me to begin a new life.

None of my friends or family knew about his dark side and the troubles we had experienced. Predictably, I struggled to convince them why I had ended a 9 year relationship after he visited EVERYONE to explain my obvious breakdown and mental unstability, not to mention my post-natal depression and my internet use. He was a victim and I was a selfish, bored adulteress that would rather be in chat-rooms or stealing money from his bank account, than be a mother to his children.

In reality, he was controlling and abusive. 

I lost most of my family and virtually all of my friends and became the talk of the playground. This was enhanced by the anonymous letters detailing my bad parenting (also my substance abuse and prostitution) that kept finding their way to the school headmistress. Luckily she saw the malicious intent and didn't call social services.

I used to be the perfect stay-at-home "soccer mum,"with the perfect children and the perfect marriage... I was deputy-chair of the PTA for christsakes and then everyone turned their back on me.

Even close friends whispered about me, when I started working full-time leaving my poor children with a child-minder!! Crime of the century!

One of my best friends stopped talking to me all together, just one day, she stopped. One day I was her bridesmaid-to-be wearing a vile gold concoction that made me look like an Oscar, the next minute she looked the other way when I walked past.

I didn't even have the energy to ask why.

I worked hard, determined not to claim any kind of financial support and luckily found a job I loved, that powered my confidence and gave me some wonderful new friends.

I often wondered about the best mate that abandoned me. I couldn't understand why she made comments to other mutual friends about how I "dumped" my children with a child-minder and became a "slut" when I started dating again.

I mean, she was the one claiming she was a single parent registering her fiancée at another address. She was using her wages from her waitress job (on the side) and her income support to pay for her upcoming wedding. 

I moved on in every sense.

Thanks to Facebook we have made contact again over the past year and with the help of mutual friends we have seen each other on a few occasions.

I was shocked to see her FB status updates the other day. She seemed really down and could maybe use company? Luckily I was back in my home town with the mutual best-mate. We called to check on her and were startled by the news.

She and her husband of three years, have separated. He has already moved out. There are no more details as of yet but mutual best-mate began to speculate.

Mutual best-mate never turned her back on me but she disapproved of my lifestyle greatly. I didn't care and was grateful that she told me to my face, then carried on being my, much needed friend.

She told me of how old-best-friend was on anti-depressants, as was she. How they were both unhappy with their marriages; sex lives over, no love between them and their partners etc. How they both were fed-up at home, bored of their lives, felt no achievement or satisfaction and longed for the confidence to go to work full time.

I felt so angry.

For such a long time I felt so judged, so wrong, such a failure. And it was people I cared about making me feel this way. 

Turns out it was jealousy, maybe fear.

I'm guessing though, that they will require my support during their time of need. Especially as I have been through it all and can offer guidance.

"Wishful thinking" springs to mind...

Three TImes A Lady

Well not a lady but I am feeling slightly more human.

We dabbled even more so last night. It wasn't even dabbling actually, it was the normal shabang...But better than normal.

My boy is truly making effort and it is god damn appreciated.

Thou shalt not go into detail...is my new mantra as much as I would love to.  I could talk explicitly about sex for hours, to anyone as I previously used to. My colleagues called it sex tourettes. It was mostly inappropriately timed and the content should never really be discussed with co-workers but it was an uncontrollable spasm which with maturity, is easing.

I guess I am using my blog to keep a record of doing the deed. Previous posts complaining about the lack of sex became a reference for me arguing to convey my concerns to OH. There has to be a balance so the good stuff needs to be recorded to. 

OH you did good last night, mucho points for trying...and succeeding!

On a post-pregnancy note, my body is still disappointing me but it's not nearly as bad as I expected and feared. It makes major difference to have his support though. Not that anything has been talked about but I sense that he knows how frightened I am about things. 

At least my libido is intact, that will never fade...ever!

Only Another Sex Post Isn't It

Technically, I had sex last night.

Well, maybe I am being overly generous when I call it sex, but it was a gentle, non scary, much appreciated start.

Lying in bed watching a dire horror film that got abandoned early, we snuggled up. It was a type of cuddle that I hadn't had for awhile. Completely turned into him with my face nestled into his neck, his arms around me and his legs encasing mine. It was super cold last night and he was super warm.
The best cuddle I have had for AGES. The type of cuddle that you can't really breathe too well during, but you don't want to move. The type of cuddle that you are not overly comfortable during, as your neck is slightly cricked and your hair is smothering your face, but you don't want to move.

We started doing "stuff" and I could feel the anxiety building. Where is this going to lead?

Normally, you are supposed to wait until your 6 week doctor check before having sex after giving birth, but according to most of my friends, it's taken them months to get back into it. The six weeks has always been enough for me but this time, I'm more terrified than hesitant, plus, it was only 4 weeks since she was born. Could be my age, or could be the fact she is my fourth attack on my pelvic floors or it could be my current relationship and not wanting to frighten or disappoint him.

Such an internal debate was going on.

This is me, I NEVER turn down sex! I am not one of those females, who isn't in the mood, can't because it's "time of the month" or has a headache. Even during a row, I would happily take a "time out" for a fuck. The day I say no to sex, is the day that there is a serious situation.

But I was too frightened and not ready to face the devastation of not being my usual.

The effort from my OH was great. Doing stuff that I LOVE, stuff that he hasn't done for AGES, stuff that I slag him off in my blog for not doing! So how could I say no after that? It would be like a huge slap in the face and could possibly prevent him doing that particular stuff any time soon again.

I finally gave in. He knows how I feel about the whole sex issue so I trusted him.

We dabbled and he didn't pressure me. I slowly relaxed and enjoyed it. There was definite contact between body bits, even if it wasn't for long. I was going to be explicitly blunt...but I have changed my mind and instead will be vague. He enjoyed it more when our body bits came into contact for a minute or two and I was pleased and finally chilled, so enjoyed it more when we were back to dabbling.

In my eyes, that was success. It wasn't too scary and I didn't burst into tears during it. He didn't react with shock or disappointment. We both got to cuddle and orgasm...happy times :)