Wednesday, August 24, 2005
So I'm a freak....
I've got the ODDEST fear.
I'm scared of large sized stuffed animals. I'm positive that they are just waiting for me to be alone, and then they are going to go Chucky on me and attack.

After my first daughter was born, someone gave her a stuffed rabbit. It was really cute. Had on a little dress and everything. Such a happy looking critter. I had no problems with it, until one day I thought the darn thing was looking at me.

Of course, it can't help that it looks like it's looking at me. I mean, it's eyes were permanently fixed in position. But it was creepy. So I moved it into her closet and shut the door. Bad move. Now I couldn't tell if it was getting up and trying to sneak out of the closet. So, to make things difficult for the rabbit. I shut the bedroom door too. ( I moved the baby to OUR bedroom... no freaky stuffed rabbit was gonna get my newborn!). So now, I'm totally screwed - cause IF it got out of the closet, I still couldn't tell and I was running out of doors to shut. My next step was to turn up the television really loud, so that the rabbit would think that I just didn't care. But now I couldn't hear if it was scuffling around building some sort of death machine. Then I started getting all clammy, and short of breath... so I grabbed the baby, my car keys & purse and left. I didn't go home until my husband got home. Checked the closet. Rabbit's where I left it. I know it curled back up in there.

Ridiculous, right?? I made the HUGE... I mean HUGE mistake of telling my husband about my panic attack. He just shook his head at me and told me I was weird. I went about making dinner, and heard a scuffling sound behind me. I turn. It's the rabbit. Peeking around the corner at me. And then there's my husband's head...popping around the corner and making stupid faces at me. Such a nerd.

Anyway. I made him throw the rabbit away. I couldn't take it. But then it's so weird. Some stuffed animals will bother me, but others don't. I have no clue why.

I know that they can't possibly come to life - but when I'm alone in the house, well hell -- anything's possible!! I wish I knew what the deal was! I've always been this way. Isn't that a strange phobia? I tried looking up "stuffed animal phobia" but I can't find a name for it. I did learn that there is, however, a fear for EVERYTHING (except of course, stuffed animals).

So - fess up. Anyone else have a strange fear they'd like to share? Make me feel like I'm not alone in my weirdo-ness??

posted by Norman at 9:46 PM | Permalink |


  • At Thursday, August 25, 2005 9:01:00 PM, Blogger Freak Magnet

    Ha! I did a post called "My Top Ten Most Irrational Fears", the first of which involves going to the loo in the middle of the night and getting bit on my butt by a snake (poisonous, of course) that came up through the toilet.

  • At Saturday, August 27, 2005 6:13:00 PM, Blogger PresbyPoet

    There is a disorder called obsessive compulsive disorder. You get fears, and or compulsions. Howard Hughes (The Aviator) had it. My twin sons both have it to varying degrees. A simple example would be that like Lady McBeth you fear that your hands were contaminated, so you have to keep washing them. YOu may know they are clean, but they still feel unclean.

    Fear is non-rational. I am afraid of heights. There are places up high that are perfectly safe, yet my reptile brain is terrified. No amount of logic will convince it that it is safe.

    Not saying you have OCD, but there are things that can convince the part of our brain that specializes in looking for danger, something is dangerous, and no amount of logic will cure it. That sounds like what has happened to your innocent brain. For some "reason" (or none) your brain now associates large fuzzy animals with danger.

    The fear is real, your husband should be nicer. Is there anything he is afraid of? That can be a way of helping him understand if you put it that way.

  • At Thursday, September 07, 2006 10:04:00 AM, Anonymous Anonymous

    When I was 3, I spent 3 weeks with my very cruel and very delusional aunt. As a toddler, I wasn't fond of baths, especially since my aunt would scratch my head raw while "washing" my hair. When I resisted the tub one day, she told me a very vivid and violent story about how if I didn't bathe, the washclothes would come and eat me in my sleep. The story alone was scary enough, but to further drill it in, my cousin, 13 years older than me, stormed into my room in the middle of the night with a washclothe on his hand, with an evil face drawn on it in Sharpie marker, and also used a flashlight to illuminate nothing but the scary face.

    To this day, 14 years later, I HATE washclothes. Seeing one gives me the heeby jeebys, and touching one is enough to make me short of breath.

    You're still more weird though. :D


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