Phobia

Meeting №1

‘Hi, I’m Annie. And I’m Obesophobic.’

‘Hello everyone. My name’s Karan. And I have Aviophobia.’

‘Hi, I’m Daniel. I am afraid of the dark.’

‘Greetings! I’m Julia. My doctors say I have Monophobia.’

It was my turn. I got up, feeling a bit reluctant and awkward at the same time. ‘Uh, hello. My name’s Zoya. I’m…I’m scared of…’ my words drowned in the noise of the drilling machine that had chosen this fine day to repair the sidewalk. I felt like I needed to explain myself further. But I didn’t want to break the tradition of the group. They were simply stating their name and their anxieties. Besides, as soon as I finished my sentence, I had already managed to get approving nods and reassuring smiles from the circle of strangers. I sat down shifting a bit clumsily and tried to relax. I started counting backwards from 20 to 1, slowly. I knew it would help me unwind. As the introductions continued, I glanced every now and then at the faces I was about to share my deepest fears with. I thought about the first time Sean had mentioned to me about this group. I had literally laughed my guts out at first, gently ending my hoot and giving way to the tears I had been holding back. I knew he meant well. I pondered over the possibility for a few days and made up my mind that I would give it a shot. If it doesn’t work out, I would just quit. It wasn’t against the code of ethics, as far as I knew.

We spent the rest of our time talking about our irrational fears. Most people in the group already knew each other. They had been meeting for a while now. At first the idea of meeting a group of strangers every Sunday for a few hours seemed unnerving. I had heard of alcoholics anonymous and similar support groups which were a lot more specific to one kind of problem, but a group of people who suffered from varying anxieties was new to me. I wondered how effective it could be. They wouldn’t understand what my anxiety was all about. Wouldn’t it be like comparing apples to oranges? Anyway, it wasn’t turning out to be all that bad. I felt I was not the only ‘weirdo’ around. No offence. But the kind of things I heard people say today made me feel saner than how I usually feel about myself in the outside world. Someone’s actually got a fear of seeing their own reflection in the mirror. Wow! That must not be easy to live with. My heart went out to each one of them. I could see how trying to understand another person’s struggles could help one evaluate and refocus one’s own inhibitions. Life can be so difficult for so many. Each in its own unique way.

During the 15-minute break, I saw her standing by the coffee machine in the adjacent room. She was by herself, staring out the window. Probably in her late 20’s, I guessed. She was dressed in dark blue denims and a pink sweatshirt. She seemed to be lost in her thoughts. She hadn’t introduced herself in the circle, so I didn’t know her name. And then, I instantly wondered why she hadn’t. I decided to go up to her and make small talk.

‘Hey!’, I said cautiously, not wanting to invade her personal space. ‘Nice sweatshirt.’

She smiled, ‘Oh thanks. It’s a gift from my mom. I wear it all the time.’ ‘By the way, I’m Zoya. Today is my first time here.’

‘I see, and how do you find it so far?’ she probed.

‘Actually, I am quite enjoying it. Good people. I feel, relaxed!’, I uttered the magic word in our realm, with a dramatic pause.’

‘I’m glad to hear that. Hey, listen. I need to go use the rest room. See you in a bit.’, she said hurriedly, already starting to walk away from me.

‘Oh, OK, and your name is?’, I quizzed. ‘Elisha. Elisha Hayes.’, and she was gone.

Meeting №2

I felt a lot more confident. The weather outside was certainly inviting. And that gave us the liberty to move our gathering for the day outdoors. The story that stuck with me the most on this particular Sunday was that of Mrs. Schwarz. She preferred being called by her last name. I think it was a German thing. She spoke about her life with Mr. Schwarz with a childish exuberance. Her laughter was addictive, and we were hooked to her every word. However, a short while later, her tone, body language and facial expressions, all turned into a melancholy as she shifted into a more serious nature of her distress. I had never heard of this term before, and I guess neither had she before a few years back. She discovered one fine day that the root of all her miseries was encompassed in a single expression, ‘Tokophobia.’ This woman was petrified of pregnancy and child birth. She repeatedly made it a point to let all of us know that Mr. Schwarz was very supportive. But her eyes narrated a different story.

Elisha was listening intently too. Her facial hues altered with those of Mrs. Schwarz’s. I caught up with her later when we were wrapping up for the day and saying our goodbyes. She remained aloof, and as usual kept her distance from everyone. As we were leaving the premises, I lingered behind, so I could get a chance to catch up with her for a bit. I felt bad for her that no one else made any attempts to engage her.

‘Hey Elisha.’, I chirped.

‘Hello Zoya. Nice to see you here again. I guess you’ve found your place in the group.’, she said affectionately.

‘Oh, yes I have. What about you. How come I don’t see you mingling with anyone?’. ‘Oh that, I have what they call Glossophobia’, she said matter-of-factly.

She gauged from my expression that I had no clue what it meant. She went on. ‘Well, in lay man’s terms, I have a fear of speaking in public. I shit bricks.’, she proclaimed

with a wink. ‘It’s easier for me to talk to someone one-on-one, that too, when the other approaches me.’

‘Hmm, that explains it all. So, you just come every Sunday and listen to all of us going on and on about ourselves, without saying a word. That must be tough.’, I sympathized.

‘It’s fine actually. I have always been a bigger fan of listening than talking. Like the old saying goes, I’m a woman of few words.’, she grinned.

We spoke for a while about our fears and it was refreshing to hear Elisha speak. She was a lot wiser than her age. She spoke of her experiences with the group and how it had at least helped her to overcome her internal conflicts. According to her, she had come a long way, from avoiding meetings altogether to being able to fearlessly attend each one of them.

I invited her to a cup of coffee at the Vogue Café across the street. She politely turned me down and promised to see me again next week.

Meeting №3

We huddled for a group picture. Ross graciously removed himself to the corner of the room. Ross avoided being photographed. He hated having his picture taken. His friends and family thought it to be most unusual and suggested that he should seek some kind of therapy. He narrated to us later that his work ID had a caricature of him on it. A co-worker had jokingly agreed to do it. Ross was more than happy with the deal.

After our meeting, Elisha and I went up to the terrace. She said it was her happy place and she wanted to show it to me. When we got to the top of the building, I could clearly see why it was. The view of the city was undoubtedly breath taking.

I asked Elisha if she had any family in Melbourne. That one question set the mood for our entire conversation. She spoke of her 5-year-old daughter, Emma, her husband and her mom who she was very close to. She said when she was a teen, she hung out more with her mom than her friends.

Meeting №4

Elisha looked a bit glum. I placed myself in the empty seat next to her. We always had a few lonely chairs in the circle. Someone or the other didn’t turn up every week and every now and then a few new faces showed up. I assessed she wasn’t in the mood to talk. I always avoided talking to her in front of others. I simply wasn’t sure if she was comfortable talking with people around. We went through the meeting listening to Karan, who was in a dilemma. His sister was getting married in Delhi because the groom’s family resided there. He wanted to attend so badly but he knew he couldn’t get himself to board that dreadful, almost 13-hour flight. He was going to have to deal with a lot of family drama in the next few weeks.

Just when everyone had walked out of the main door, I quickly approached Elisha. I asked her if she felt like going to the terrace for a chat. She agreed. We sat there for 3 hours. She told me it was Emma’s birthday the next day. She felt her little girl was growing up so fast and she had no control over it. I tried consoling her, but it was difficult for me to fully comprehend her feelings. I had never met a mother who was feeling low just a day before her child’s birthday. But I told myself I was in no position to judge. I was not a parent.

Meeting №5

The group spontaneously decided to go out for dinner after our meeting. No one was interested in sharing their not-so-happy stories today. I think most of us were envisioning the look of grilled chicken breast with pepper sauce, with a side of fries and sautéed vegetables on our plate. The Italian place we were going to crash into was famous for its grilled chicken, and ravishing desserts. I’d already decided what I wanted to have to tame my sweet tooth. Molten Lava cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and strawberries would just do the trick. When Daniel declared to the group that we should wind up a half hour earlier so that he could join us before the wretched sun decided to set for the evening, we all agreed in unison. I did, more than others. I certainly wanted to get back home before the sky changed its colour.

I wondered if Elisha would be joining. As usual, she had remained mute and hadn’t expressed her vote on the decision to go out for dinner.

Just as I was about to advance in her direction after the dispersal, while everyone was busy collecting their stuff or grabbing a quick cup of coffee before stepping out, we heard a huge sigh from Faro. ‘No can-do amigo,’, he gasped, ‘It’s raining.’

Faro was scared of the rain!

Meeting №6

I scrambled into the room. Elisha looked up as I came in and gestured for me to come sit next to her. This was a first. She had never initiated contact with me or approached me. She was surely progressing. The group was just about to start the customary round of introductions. Colin, our mediator, addressed the gathering.

Solemnly, he began ‘Around this time, one year ago, we lost a very dear friend. Today, I would like us to spend a minute in silence to pay our tribute to a friend, a fighter, and above all, to a good human being. We miss you, Elisha.’

Elisha placed her hand gently on mine. I didn’t move. I didn’t breathe. The air from my lungs had been sucked out. My mind was already in a panic state but surprisingly my heart was calm. I needed more than a minute’s silence.

I chose to be the first that day. I slowly stood up and said in a stage whisper the same thing that I always had. ‘My name’s Zoya and I am scared of ghosts.’

That was the last time I saw Elisha Hayes.