Phobias are an illness. They are listed in the DSM-5 diagnostic manual for mental disorders, and they can go from being mildly inconvenient to completely debilitating. Panic attacks, avoidance, and intense anxiety are all symptoms. So, why do we keep treating them like personality quirks, something to “just get over”, rather than the serious issue they are?
I’m terrified of flying. This has caused me to have countless panic attacks on planes, miss out on fantastic trips, and cry at the prospect of future flights – even when they’re scheduled months away. I’ve tried half a dozen anxiety meds to take the edge off but they were ineffective unless I took doses so large I became nauseous. The only things that work are heavy sleeping pills which I can only take on long-haul flights – hence my preference for longer trips.
My phobia has led me to develop a compulsive response to flying or thinking about flying: I slide my knuckles across a wooden surface three times, then knock on it three times. If wood is unavailable… well, any surface will do, preferably brown. I realise how insane this sounds. I know it won’t make a difference, not to the flight I’m on and not to my state of mind. This ritual doesn’t even make me feel better. But if I don’t indulge in it over and over again, despite realising how ridiculous it sounds, my panic gets worse.
I went to school in London but went back home to Rome for the holidays every few months, meaning there was lots of traveling going on. My first year was an endless cycle of putting off buying a plane ticket, buying a plane ticket and stressing for weeks, panicking on the plane, and finally relief… only to start stressing over the next flight a week later. I never got a break, and this intense fear only worsened my general anxiety. So, my second year of school I made all my London-Rome trips by train: 2 changes, approximately 24 hours of traveling. And even in the crowded overnight bunks, not once did I regret my decision if it meant having some peace of mind.
My friends and family are all aware of this issue, but responses I’ve gotten have been largely unsympathetic. According to my mom I needed to “just get over it”, stop being spoiled by spending extra on train tickets. According to my dad, “everyone is afraid of flying but they just do it anyway” – as though this mental torture was normal. You have to face your fears, Capu. They’ll never go away unless you face them. Well, I’ve been flying since I was ten months old; this particular fear gradually developed and I’ve flown many times since then, with nothing but more anxiety as a result. Over time my family has grown more supportive, and I’ve been lucky to rely on them for medication and alternate travel plans, but they still can’t really understand.
Around friends I often self-deprecatingly joke about the issue; after all, what else can I do? I’d rather give the impression this is something that only affects one aspect of my life, that I can distance myself from, rather than revealing how overwhelming it can be all the time. For example – watching airplane scenes in movies, planning holidays, or even writing this article gives me anxiety. If I joke about it, I can keep how much it really affects me somewhat hidden. But this self-deprecation as a coping mechanism doesn’t mean I’m okay with others making fun of my phobia. And it happens all the time, with people I know taking cues from my attitude and assuming they can replicate it.
Friends laughing about letting me squeeze their arm on flights – a gesture on their part which I am thankful for but ashamed of. Friends annoyed at my unwillingness to take more flights than strictly necessary while on group vacations. Friends on flights with me joking about accidents, even just to tease. Friends telling other classmates or teachers about my phobia, as though my personal mental health difficulties were a topic of casual conversation. At the end of school we had a presentation on graduating seniors – a teasing but affectionate slideshow, featuring memories & gossip gathered from friends. My slide centred around my fear of flying, with mentions of my train journeys and my medication. Teachers, friends, and classmates in the room all laughed.
My phobia already creates enough difficulties as it is. It ties in with my generalised anxiety, it tries to take over important aspects of my life, it triggers unexpected panic attacks. Talking about it is sometimes necessary, or even helpful, but I don’t want for one second to let it define me in the eyes of anyone. I don’t define myself by my phobia or anxiety, so thinking that’s the first way people who barely know me view me is incredibly frustrating. I certainly won’t solve this issue with friendly support alone, but I’d like to stop just being seen as that girl with the flying quirk she needs to magically get over. Because guess what? Telling someone with a phobia to “just get over it” is like telling someone on a wheelchair to “just get up”. When someone you know faces a physical health problem you don’t try to solve it giving unfounded opinions; you stand by their side and support them. Why isn’t it the same with mental health?
Even within the realm of mental health phobias are always put down. Mental health is generally managed badly. Yes, for those able to vocalise their depression or anxiety there are increasing – or at least basic – support structures. But this leaves those who suffer in silence behind, along with those suffering from less common conditions. Phobias are completely left out, often thought of as a personality trait instead. But they have a strong connection with other mental illnesses such as generalised anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder, PTSD, and depression. Even if this wasn’t the case, phobias can be debilitating enough on their own to warrant proper support and treatment. Not laughter and useless commands to “face your fears”.
Let’s discuss these intense fears seriously while using the right terminology. Let’s be inclusive of people with phobias, let’s respect their triggers, let’s validate their experiences. Let’s provide treatment in the same way we should for any health condition.
Let’s start acknowledging phobias for what they are: mental disorders.
