Fear: Balloons
Annoyances: disrespect
Accomplishments: aren’t important to me
Confusions: divorce
Sorrows: Sin
Dreams: Family
Idiosyncrasies: Punk Music
Risks: are necessary to get anything done
Beloved Possessions: Mac, phone, music,
family, relationships (now) legos(then)
Problems: History
My fear of balloons has always been a hot topic among
those who know about it. Often, it is also exploited, because at first, most
think I’m kidding, or they don’t take it seriously. But to me it is very
serious, and also one of the few things about myself I’m actually embarrassed
about. So focusing on this topic is somewhat of an attempt at self-therapy.
Here’s how it began:
According to my mother, on my 2nd or 3rd
birthday, my parents took me and my newborn sister to Cheddars, and the
waitress brought me balloons. Not aware of the physical properties of the colorful
item in my grasp, I declared it a pillow. So, I laid it against the wall,
pressed my head against it, and it popped in my ear, and I was apparently very
upset about it.
And ever since, the anxiety of seeing a balloon, or even
worse, a bunch of balloons is overwhelming that sometimes I even have to leave
the area, as most of my friends experienced at a church trip when thousands of
balloons were released into a stadium full of children. I took one thing from
that trip. Immersion therapy will never help me overcome my irrational fear of
balloons, (Globophobia).
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