Turns out they lessen, but re-emerge in adult versions.
Leah Coffman
I was recently asked what I was afraid of. It was in a group of friends and we were all exposing what would make our skin crawl. Shout out to the spiders in the world because spiders were the group’s number-one thing that makes them leave a room. Sorry, snakes, you were clearly second place in this competition. Maybe next time. Our phobia show-and-tell session made me think. What was I afraid of as a child versus what scares me as an adult. How different would those two lists be?
Quicksand: Oh, this was a constant fear as a child. I spent a lot of time with my Grandma Sallie and our visits centered around Westerns. If a show included a man riding a horse, Grandma was sold. The Westerns from her era, for some reason, often depicted people being sucked under the surface of quicksand and drowning in what looked like a huge vat of oatmeal cleverly hidden in the desert.
Naturally, I concluded that any walk outside could potentially kill me. I would test step on surfaces to make sure it wasn’t really quicksand covered with leaves to blend into the Virginia woodland. You could have been on crutches and kept up with me since I thought a booby trap was waiting every six feet or so. I’d sneak up on it before I toe-tested that suspicious puddle. Can’t be too careful with quicksand. I was also suspicious of oatmeal, but if it could fit in a bowl it couldn’t kill me so we had a begrudging relationship.
Falling off a cliff: This too is courtesy of Grandma’s Westerns, because along with quicksand a lot of people seemed to go over the edge of a cliff. Maybe I could have skipped this fear except that my Grandma lived at Bremo Bluff, along Virginia’s James River, and that bluff to my five-year-old eyes looked like a massive section of the Grand Canyon. My very own edge of oblivion.
Funny thing though, one danger that the mountains of Virginia and a classic Western have in common is rattlesnakes. My family didn’t say boo about snakes and fear and there was a real connection. I guess my family viewed a snake that warns you is playing fairly and if you get bit, maybe that’s on you.
Swimming too soon: This fear was carved in stone for me. If you went swimming less than 30 full minutes after putting anything in your mouth, you would die. The adults told us that when you ate something, all your blood rushed to your stomach to process it therefore it wouldn’t be available to your muscles for swimming and you’d sink like a rock to the bottom of the pond and drown. That was my understanding of the message. What a way to die. Unable to move, underwater, all because you couldn’t resist a couple of Twinkies and then rest for 30 minutes. Imagine what they’d say at your funeral.
Facial paralysis: Remember the phrase, “Keep making that face and it’ll freeze that way.” I heard it weekly. What would it take to make a certain expression stick for life? Is it a timing thing, like the 30 minutes after swimming fear? Could you hold a weird expression for 14 minutes, 59 seconds safely but 15 minutes would curse you forever? I practiced timing in a mirror. That’s three minutes and it didn’t freeze like that, so three minutes is definitely doable. However, my parents were committed to this threat so when my uncle had Bell’s palsy, they used it as proof that making a face for too long would indeed stick. When his symptoms left, they explained that away by telling me that he had done enough chores and good deeds to erase the ugly face lock. What did I tell you? They were committed.
Monsters under the bed: I have not met a person yet who did not have this as a childhood fear. If you were under the age of eight, your very own monster was assigned to kill you in the dark and your parents did not seem to care about this predicament. We made up elaborate rules that protected us while asleep. No square inch of your body could overhang the edge of the mattress. Anything outside of the mattress’ edge was vulnerable, and could be used to pull you off the bed into the abyss of darkness and claws. The monster could not use the blanket to pull you off, only grabbing you directly completed the mission. The edge of the bed was a powerful force field and must not be breached in times of darkness.
As an adult, I know that monsters no longer live under my bed. That’s silly. There’s no room under my bed for a monster, what with the suitcases, comforters, and winter coats stored away there. It would make for a very comfy monster bed but they’d have to be very small to find a spot. I guess if the monsters rebranded as clutter, they would feel right at home under my bed but would that really be a threat? I am comfortable with a certain amount of clutter as it ebbs and flows through this house so.
Is that what happens to our childhood monsters? Do they dissipate as we grow and gain more perspective? The monster under the bed used to be able to pull me into a dark hole lined with moving claws and teeth, eternally biting and scratching while no one knew where I disappeared to. Now the most that happens under my bed is when I rearrange the suitcases to get to the heavy winter comforter.
Besides, when you become an adult your monsters are far more insidious and sticky. Quicksand becomes debt. Swimming after eating becomes body insecurity and weight issues. Falling off a cliff is suffering a major medical event and the costs and recovery. Facial paralysis becomes youth versus aging. Monsters under the bed become relationship mine fields. It’s almost like humans just can’t live without boogeymen in our lives. Conquer your fears or live comfortably with them but just know it’s your choice. It’s your life.
Boo!
The story above first appeared in our March / April 2024 issue. For more like it subscribe today or log in with your active BRC+ Membership. Thank you for your support!