What It’s Like Having a Mask Phobia
The struggle is real
In the midst of covid-19, the world has turned on its head. Words like “new normal” and “social distancing” have become commonplace. People carefully keep six feet between each other. Everyone has started wearing masks.
In some places masks are mandatory. In others it’s recommended. Either way, masks are everywhere and here to stay. For most people masks are an inconvenience. They’re annoying and they fog up people’s glasses. No one wants to wear a mask, but most people do so in order to protect themselves and others. Unfortunately there is a subset of people who can’t wear masks due to anxiety and phobias.
I am one of those people.
Ever since I was a child I’ve been unable to put things over my mouth and nose. I remember as a child having a mask as part of a Halloween outfit and refusing to wear it. Over the years I’ve avoided even putting my head under the covers.
When I put something over my mouth and nose, I feel like I’m suffocating. I can feel the hot air blowing back on my face and immediately my breathing speeds up, but I feel like I can’t get enough oxygen into my lungs. I feel like the mask is closing around me like one of those aliens in the movies. That alien presses against my mouth and wraps its tentacles around my head.
If I don’t take the mask off my face immediately, my breath goes even faster and I start shaking. My heart thunders in my chest. I start to feel dizzy and I start to cry. Thoughts that I’m going to pass out or die rush through my head. I’ve never passed out, but I know someone with the same issue that did and that makes my fear even stronger.
I also have an issue with concentrating on my breathing. I first noticed this issue when I tried to take a meditation class to help me relax. I had to leave because thinking about my breathing and trying to breathe deeply have a reverse effect on me. Normally breathing deeply is a go-to for recommendations to calm down. I just panic. It’s humiliating, knowing that everyone around me is watching.
At the beginning of the plague, before people were really wearing masks, I restricted my times out to necessary visits to the grocery store and doctors appointments in order to avoid infecting and upsetting people.
Even doing that, I couldn’t avoid embarrassing situations. I had to get some things I couldn’t find online, so I went to the only store in town still allowing people in without masks. I walked into an aisle where someone was wearing a mask. She was on one side and I was on the other, nowhere near her, when she loudly said, “What is with you people?” and rushed away.
I wanted to sink into the floor. I wanted to yell after her that I had a legitimate, medical reason for not wearing a mask.
Since my state mandated the use of masks, my life has shrunken to my home. Even though my state allows exceptions for people who medically can’t use a mask, most places have policies still banning people with medical issues. I don’t want to upset people or risk the embarrassment either.
Because I can’t wear a mask I can’t work. I can’t go to the store. I can’t buy groceries even at times when there’s few people there. And I can’t go to doctor’s appointments. Even my psychiatrist and therapist who understand that I have a phobia won’t let me into their offices without a mask.
Thankfully, for doctor’s appointments I mostly am able to do it over the phone. But for my allergy shots, which I need to keep breathing well, it was weeks before we could work out a solution. I now have to hold up a mask in front of my face as they hurry me into an empty room. At first even that was severely anxiety producing as I hadn’t gotten to the point where I could have something in front of my face without freaking out.
I ended up having a panic attack that first time — suffocating, shaking, crying. I felt so humiliated. I am thankful that since then my allergist has worked with me, but the first couple of times I was embarrassed by the stares of people who hadn’t been alerted about my accommodations.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m completely a strong proponent of wearing masks. If I could wear one, I would and I will. Wearing masks isn’t going away so I’m determined to beat this phobia.
I’ve been working for two months to be able to wear a mask. At first I resisted, but after a talk with my psychiatrist, she assured me that I’m not alone. I’m not the only one who can’t wear a mask or breathe deeply without triggering a panic attack. She said she was confident that I could beat this.
Treatment started with increasing my anxiety medication. After that I spent a long time talking with my therapist about why I was so afraid of the mask and what coping mechanisms I could use. She suggested grounding methods such as 1–2–3, which is where I have to come up with three things I see, two things I hear, and one thing I feel while holding the mask as close to my face as I can without being too anxious. Another thing I tried was going through an animal for every letter of the alphabet over and over. With time I was able to bring the mask a little closer to my face.
Any time something failed to work, she came up with other suggestions. She’s been a constant encouragement in my life. Every day I work toward using her suggestions and have slowly moved my mask closer and closer to my face. I found a mask that is the least intimidating to me and have finally gotten to the point where I can have the mask touch my nose for a few seconds. I have made a lot of progress but there’s still a lot to go until I can wear the mask all day. I can’t wait to get my life back, or at least as much as the virus will allow these days.
Masks are absolutely essential, but when you encounter someone not wearing a mask, try not to automatically assume that they’re being jerks. There are a lot of people out there that have severe anxiety and panic attacks over wearing masks and they are doing the best they can. I hope my journey will give you an insight into what people with mask anxiety go through.
