November 24, 2009
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I have selachophobia…
Or, scared of giant, God-to-be-feared designed, evolutionarily perfected fish designed to kill: sharks.
Even without a laser-cannon, they’re still scary as hell.I just tried falling asleep but awoke to visceral dream of falling into an ocean – and of all azure ripples to land in, giant jaws of a shark explode out of a water and before the infinite rows of arrowhead teeth snap down into my flesh I awake – and find myself shortly after in the bathroom relieving myself. Remnants of dream still following my sorry woken state, I imagined/dreamt a giant shark exploding out of the toilet while I was leaking and I nearly gave the walls a new paint job as I caught myself from falling back.I’ve always been scared of sharks. I’m not just talking about when I’m prancing in the shallow end of the ocean, I’m talking about even in impractical situations (yes, I guess even using the toilet…) I used to be a lifeguard before I was honorably discharged for heroically sleeping on the job and during my breaks I used to swim. Whenever I did, I always imagined a shark would appear in the pool. And it frightened me. One time, the pool was entirely empty and I had to get out because logically if a shark appeared, it would come after me by default (it makes sense, right?) I’m most scared when I’m in the middle of the lane, furthest from both ends of the pool – I speed up because I feel this looming presence at my toes, like a Great White shark about to lurch forward and, you know, eat me.
u gon run? o u can’t, cos u in wadder… >:DI get chills just even Google imagining them. Sleek, gray armor. Soulless beady eyes. Fins like a torpedo. In fact, I’d rather get shot at by a torpedo then see one of these things. I mean, just look at their face. Does it have a face?! It’s just a mass of muscles, with lots and lots of sharp teeth. I Wiki’d them and apparently they can go through something like 30,000 teeth. You only need so much teeth if all you’re going to do is kill things. My worst fear is just being dropped in the middle of the ocean, not because I’m going to drown. But because beyond the thick, opaque blue fog of where my underwater vision fails to see so far – sharks circle, silently, ready to make their move. So, some of you have seen my go into the ocean. How do I muster such courage? Well, it’s because I cleverly make sure I’m surrounded by my friends so they’re killed first buying me time to swim ashore.Watching stuff like this only makes stone of my imagined fears. I don’t want to be scared anymore, so I kindled with hope when I saw this link when I was researching sharks: a site that sells you a program to deal with shark phobia (click for link). At first, I was skeptical. Was there really a company out there willing to invest in helping people with phobias – a shark one at that? Was this fear of sharks more common than I thought? I never found out, but they did tell me: “Shark Phobia is usually caused by an intense negative experience from your past.” Really? I can’t remem– oh my God. I remember when I was in grade school my dad took our family to Disney World because – hey, it’s all family fun right? Wrong, we rode this boat ride at Universal Studios that was interactive and it recreates – live – a situation similar to the Jaws movie. It was all staged of course, so the actors acted like this ride was a water tour of Universal Studios but me being me believed it really was a tour, not knowing it was a simulation ride. So, I’m enjoying the scenery, eating cotton candy, holding my dad’s hand and -
“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMGGGGGDAD HALP ME”Talk about traumatizing the malleable, impressionable pysche of a child. For first three attacks I thought it really was a shark. I really thought our tour boat was trying to be upturned by this massive, God-forsaken behemoth. The “tour guide” was shooting it with a fake shotgun and it didn’t occur to me why a tour guide would pack serious heat, I just registered lots of loud noises being futile against 30 feet of flexed muscle with teeth. So, I was hugging my dad for dear life sobbing and praying to God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit (you do that when you’re young) that I’ll go to heaven. Then I saw my dad laughing at me, and realized everyone was having a jolly old time. I was so shaken up that my dad had to carry me off when the ride was finished and had to buy me new cotton candy and change my shorts – while I was instinctively repressing the event into the darkest chambers of my memories. I figure, I would have to face my fear and ride this ride again but unfortunately, Disney ended this ride for something else.. I think it was Shrek in 4-D.
Um, no thanks.The site I was talking about, that helps cure shark phobias, sells their program for 150$. 150?! I don’t know what’s more irrational, fearing a statistically improbable scenario or paying 150 dollars to cure that fear. I’d rather buy a knife and pay a fisherman to take me out to sea and face my fear the man’s way, naked. Unless they somehow evolve and fuse with my second my most dreaded fear…
Oh, God.
