Phobia by Mandy White Page A

inability to answer the phone or return calls. I bared my soul to her for the first time in my life in an attempt to make her see what it was like to be inside my head. I explained it in so much detail I was certain she would be able to sympathize. She did not understand, nor did she sympathize. But she finally expressed herself via email, so perhaps I’d made some progress.
    Her reply was shocking, even for her. It was a page-long rant about how it ‘wasn’t about me.’ She told me I was not suffering from depression or anxiety; that I just needed to get over it and smarten up.
    If it wasn’t ‘about me’, then who was it about? She demanded to know why I hadn’t called and I’d told her. I expected her to be angry but I hadn’t expected this. Maybe she was right; maybe it wasn’t about me. Maybe Aunt Ellen was the one who was mentally ill.
    Fine. Fuck her then. I didn’t need her shit anyway. I didn’t miss the stuffy holiday dinners, which were just one more opportunity for her to trap me and embarrass me in front of other people. I didn’t miss the panic attacks that happened before and after those ‘parties’.
    The phone finally stopped ringing. Aunt Ellen had given up on me. I attempted to apologize one more time via email, inviting her to correspond with me that way but all I received was a curt reply saying that she would prefer not to.
    At last! Blissful silence!
    With Colin, it was different. He didn’t make me feel anxious or nervous. I felt completely at ease with Colin. When I was talking to him, FOBPOTS didn’t exist. When I heard his voice, I felt like I wasn’t afraid of anything.
     
    ~*~
     

 
    ~ 16 ~
To be Normal
     
     
    It wasn’t until after the therapy group meeting during which I’d read my little speech about phobias that I was able to talk to Colin in private again. There was so much I wanted to tell him but had no idea where to begin. The earthquake had happened the day before. Nobody in the group mentioned it, so I assumed it hadn’t been very big. As usual, I let Colin do most of the talking.
    “The description of phobias went very well,” he observed. “Totally nailed it.”
    “Thanks. I kind of cheated. I wrote it all down.”
    “Took a while to get it done, but it was worth it,” he observed.
    “Thank you for noticing. It did take me a long time and I agree, it was worth it. It’s easier for me to express myself in writing. I wish more people thought like you do. Did I ever tell you about my aunt Ellen?”
    Colin didn’t answer, so I took that as a no.
    Before I realized it, I had launched into the entire sordid story of Aunt Ellen and her refusal to speak to me because I couldn’t pick up the phone.
    For once, Colin didn’t interrupt. Afterward, he was silent for so long, I began to worry that maybe he agreed with my aunt.
    Finally he spoke.
    “Mind if I read this to you?”
    “Of course not!”
    “In Psychology, they teach us to try and see things from the other person’s point of view. It’s not always easy. When you see someone who bullies or tries to control others in order to feel powerful, it’s not easy to step into his or her shoes without passing judgment.”
    “Exactly!” I interjected. “You’re the first person who gets it!” My heart swelled with… something. Was it love I felt for Colin? I wasn’t sure, but it felt nice. It was a warm and fuzzy feeling, like my heart was wearing a pair of plush slippers. “Did you feel the quake yesterday?” I blurted, suddenly changing the subject. In rehashing the unpleasant story of my aunt, I had almost forgotten to tell Colin about the earthquake, and the strange dream that had preceded it.
    His silence told me that the answer was no.
    I reminded myself that Colin probably didn’t live near me. I still wasn’t sure where he was or why he hadn’t told me his location but I didn’t want to push the issue. I figured he would tell me when he was ready.
    “It wasn’t a very strong one, but it