My Carpophobia

Defined merely as the irrational fear of veins and wrists. The experiences and effects of this phobia can range very widely depending on the individual. Just the thought of the underside of the wrist can make sufferers thrust their wrists away from them or become nauseous. Some even have trouble writing with their wrists exposed.

I have had a conscious fear of the underside of wrists from about the time I was 14. At least I don't have Ithyphallophobia (fear of erect penises).

I remember needing to pull down my jumper over my wrists as I did written exams in the Queensland summer.
I remember feeling sick when I put my watch on (only in the last month).
I remember my siblings hysterically shoving the underside of their wrists in my face, once they'd cottoned on to my fear.
I remember not being able to fully look at a friend's new tattoo.

Talking about the inner side of wrists makes me squeamish.
I always avoid looking at or talking about wrists.
I can very easily look at the top side of my wrist, but even seeing an inner wrist in my periphery makes me nauseous.

I'm also nauseous about BG. He's officially disappeared. I innocuously made contact. No response as of yet. Sickening. Confusing. Self-loathing is coming at me hard and fast.

A few months ago I looked alright. I had short hair. Now I have long hair and a spotty complexion. A few months ago I felt loved by BG. Now I'm in an ice bath, confused.

The biggest fright and disappointment is the potential inaccuracy of my intuition. I thought this was one of my strengths. If I am wrong I am absolutely and violently furious at my brain. How could you lead me astray like that? Brain?! What made you do this? If it was totally baseless and you've misinterpreted all that sweetness and love, why did you do as such? Have you got a lesion? Are you seriously malfunctioning? Are some of the electrical pulses misfiring? Fuck you brain. How do you expect me to respect your thoughts when you took me down the garden path as such? It really is truly depressing.

I guess there could be some reason for his absence. There you go brain, indulging invented excuses again. Is this pure truth and instinct or is it mindless delusion? Why should an ostensibly intelligent person like me fall victim to such irrationality? I wish I could drain my brain of such nonsense daily. A bit like a dialysis, but perhaps more expensive. A male friend who knows BG a bit better than I, said I should reach out to him, that he is hopeless and probably moping and wondering why Ms OK hasn't been in touch. I love the hopeless boys. It's pathological. I waste time awaiting his correspondence. When will I ever learn? How can this be love if I'm such a nutcase?

This morning I had a very unsettling experience. I phoned a colleague who is 25 years my senior. At home, he didn't sound well. I said as such and then asked of what kind of ill he was experiencing? He responded: "I suffer from depression". It was so raw and highly unusual to have someone admit to suffering depression when they're in the 'black'. If it was me I wouldn't have answered my phone. I would have made light of my dysfunction if I truly had to take the call. I wouldn't have said it as plainly and simply. But I'm proud of him. How brave. Now I have a better understanding of him. It's strange though, because although not a taboo it is a very private matter. I couldn't share it with anyone, so instead I just carried it with me all day and sent him an sms this afternoon. He is feeling a bit better. Went to the gym. Out of serious concern, I did phone a mutual colleague who has known him for 30 odd more years than I and all I could say or wanted to reveal was "Have you spoken to him today? He's not well. He didn't sound too good". "Not good in the brain" I had to clarify. I certainly didn't pass on the same perfunctory statement "he is suffering from depression". Was this out of respect or am I perpetuating a cultural taboo?