No one knows this about me: My life as a closet Arachnophobe
War
Gasping for breath, feeling the sweat beads form and fall down my deathly pale face I stand, facing down the formidable black mass in front of me. The ‘war’ had been raging for a good ten minutes, yet all I had to show for my efforts was a few steps in the right direction. Literally. I was now a few yards closer to my foe. A common house spider to most, the fear clouding my vision meant I was facing, in my mind, what perhaps better resembled a tarantula, on the battleground of my bedroom wall. It is Autumn, and this is the first of a whole season of intense battles I must face in the height of spider season.
The onset of fear
I cannot remember the moment this fear overcame me. As a young boy I was fearless, creepy crawlies were like cuddly toys, although don’t picture me sleeping with my favourite cockroach in the same way someone might cuddle their build-a-bear. I wasn’t that hardcore, that sort of image belongs firmly to Bear Grylls’ fond memories of his childhood. But, the very idea of anything eight- legged didn’t fill me with dread. And yet here I find myself, an unwilling member of a very large population of arachnophobia sufferers. Whilst the exact figure is unknown, millions of people across the world are plagued by a fear of spiders to some extent. and is often documented as accounting for 40% of all phobias (along with other bug related fears). It is common, and I should really not be so reticent about my arachnophobia. However, it is certainly not manly. To be almost paralytically fearful of a creature that, at least in the UK, tends to be both harmless and no more than six inches in frame could perhaps be the very antithesis of masculinity, it pains me to say. And so, until this very moment of writing, I was a closet Arachnophobe.
Daily Plight
Essentially living a lie, it has not been easy. Maintaining my secret has been a tremendous struggle. Even cleaning cobwebs as part of my household chores is near impossible. Fearful of being exposed I cannot refuse, yet even after checking multiple times to make sure the offending cobweb is uninhabited, closing my eyes and blindly cleaning with erratic trembly shakes of my wrist, has been my only successful method to date. But dealing with the eight-legged aberrations themselves is a much greater problem. My long-standing coping mechanism has been avoidance. A personal favourite of mine, involves simply leaving any room in which a spider has been spotted as calmly and innocuously as possible. As long as I can resist the overwhelming urge to run for my life, anyone present is none the wiser. However, a year ago I made a calamitous mistake. Getting a girlfriend seemed like a good idea at the time, but I foolishly forgot to account for the fact I would have to protect her from everything, and yes that includes spiders. I would like to proudly declare that I have successfully dealt with a years’ worth of formidable arachnids, albeit whilst internally screaming for the entirety of each ordeal, but that would be a lie. I have shirked from the majority of these ordeals, each with an excuse more farfetched than the last. Pathetic, pitiful, and cowardly. Alas, all are labels that could fairly be bestowed upon me. This is truly a head-hanging moment.
A Fragile Secret
As I have said, until the time of writing, this phobia has been kept close to my chest. But the accuracy of this claim is up for some debate. The internal screams have occasionally become external, and the almost feverish symptoms that accompany the sighting of any spider crawling aggressively across the carpet, wall or ceiling have warranted more than one funny look. But my pride and tenuous illusion of masculinity force me to desperately cling on to the notion that this is still a well-kept secret.
Light at the end of the Tunnel?
This Christmas, I finally turned the tables on my phobia. Whilst once again panickily shopping on Christmas Eve, searching every shop and market stall for a sliver of inspiration, I stumbled across what I immediately deemed the greatest invention ever to grace mankind. A Spider Catcher. Perhaps blinded by desperation, it felt like an extension of my very arm, with sleek and flawless design that belied its gimmicky price I snatched it off the shelf and headed home with all thoughts of Christmas long forgotten. Now armed and dangerous, and able to stand a safe twelve feet away from my nemesis at all times, I look to the future with quiet optimism. Maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to suffer anymore.
