This is in the Pit because that’s where you put discussions of other posters, not because I think Dio is the antichrist for doing something fairly insensitive.
Fear of cotton is stupid? Yeah, it pretty much is, but so are most other phobias, and the people who have them know that, yet they still have the phobia. The person who has the phobia isn’t stupid, and they still should be treated with respect.
When my anxiety flared up last year, I developed a fear of being a passenger in a car. Was that stupid? Of course. Did I know it was stupid? You bet. Did that knowledge help at all? Not one tiny little bit.
I, as a phobic, would be OK with that, as long as you didn’t feel the need to tell me how stupid you think it is, or to use it to torment me. It’s a simple issue of being polite.
I guess it’s kind of like if someone tells you they are a Christian, and you start telling them how stupid it is to believe in magical sky pixies (or whatever). It’s perfectly OK for you to think that believing in God is stupid, but it’s rude to say that sort of thing to someone who does believe. Or if you tell me you like split pea soup, it’s rude of me to tell you how disgusting I think it is, even if I can’t understand how anyone could think that it’s fit to eat because of that.
I don’t see the big deal. Diogenes has already acknowledged that his conduct was inappropriate and shameful, and suggests he wouldn’t do it again.
Here’s where I think the OP goes off the rails. It is for us to say what is or isn’t irrational: that’s the point of “irrational.” It is an objective declaration. The whole point of “phobia” is that it is an irrational fear, and we can discuss it and call it irrational if we please.
Certainly, mocking someone afflicted with a phobia or intentionally causing them misery by taunting them with the object of the phobia is not a noble thing, and Diogenes knows it and has said as much.
That basically sums it up. She wasn’t afraid of the fabrics but for some reason was freaked out by the texture of raw cotton (or other “cottony” looking substances) and couldn’t stand to touch it. I have no idea why, but it’s interesting to find out this particular quirk is not unique.
As I said in the other thread, my initial teasing consisted of occasionally feinting like I was going to throw a cotton ball at her and singing the “Fabric of Our lives” song. On those occasions she would kind of squeal and duck a little bit but she laughed at the song and it didn’t seem like she was really that upset. I never actually touched her with the cotton and my perception was that she play-acting the “fear” a little bit because, in my unenlightened mind, I just couldn’t quite believe that she was really, really afraid of something that absurd. This was not some sort of ongoing, constant pattern on my part either. We’re talking about maybe two or three times over the course of the summer when I would do the fake cotton ball throwing. It wasn’t until the cotton candy night that I ever realized how serious she was and upset she was getting. I had honestly thought it was just a bit of harmless teasing with a co-worker who I generally got along pretty well with.
Anyway, I apologized. Life went on. I never teased her again, there were no grudges and the last time I saw her at a dinner a couple of years ago we got along just fine.
I admit, I thought it was a really stupid thing to be afraid of and still do but if my “victim” has forgiven me and doesn’t hold any grudges, I don’t see why I owe the OP any apologies.
I would like to ask, for those of you saying, “Eh, it’s just cotton balls, and that’s really stupid” exactly who died and made you Arbiter Of Rational Phobias? I mean, come on, a phobia is an irrational fear, just in case you haven’t gotten it by now. Why is a cotton phobia “stupid” while agoraphobia, or acrophobia, or aeleurophobia “not stupid”?
Sure, cotton balls may not hurt you, but as it was pointed out in the other thread, you don’t know why she had a phobia of cottony things. Maybe she was molested as a small child and had cotton stuffed in her mouth to gag her. You don’t know. But to dismiss someone’s phobia as “stupid”, just because you don’t understand it, is in itself stupid and ignorant.
I, for example, have severe acrophobia. I rationally acknowledge that going up 2 whole steps on a ladder will not hurt me. Even if I fall, I’m only, what, a foot off the ground? Not gonna get much beyond a bruise, if that. But all the rationality in the world doesn’t stop my head from whirling, my heart from racing, my breathing from speeding up, and generally me panicking at the fact that I’m on a ladder, AIIIEEEEEEEEEEE…
And, Binarydrone, even though Diogenes apologized, it doesn’t delete the fact that he knew she was terrified and still acted like a complete dick. And no, torturing her because he wanted to show “how silly she was being” isn’t an excuse. It’s not even a good reason. Just because he analyzed what he was doing later doesn’t negate the fact that he was a thorough bully at the time, and is still blowing it off as “what guys do.”
I’ll tell you this, the guys I know don’t do that kind of shit, because they have some sensitivity, concern, and respect for other people’s feelings.
Oh hell If that’s the case, I’m guilty too. But thanks Dio. Next time I gently caress my fingertips on a towel, I will be singing the cotton song. (My wife obviously has a higher tolerence than you’re friend, my wife eats cotton candy.)
DogMom, You may want to take a peek at this part of Dio’s post upthread once more. To read your post, you would think that he was torturing her all summer long, day in and day out when, in fact, he has stated that the instances were few, that they stopped once he realized that it was serious, that he spent some considerable thought on the matter, apologized for his behavior and continues to have a friendly relationship with this woman to this day. What a cock.
As I have satated, in my public behavior I place value on being acomodating to the quirks and special needs of others. Pretty nasty of me, huh? As to your “who died” comment; that one is actually pretty simple. No one had to, rather I am a member of a society with specific norms and expectations. As such, I am perfectly correct in my take that being afraid of cotton balls is pretty fucking stupid. This is not to say that I would ever tell someone that had this stupid fear that this was my take on it. As I said, I try to be sensitive. I also don’t give people eating hamburgers crap even though I am a vegetarian.
My take is that in many cases people may have an aversion to something that they pass off as a phobia because it has somehow become fashonable to have a brain glitch of some sort. Please understand that I am talking in general terms and not about your specific phobia. If I were hanging out with you, I would simply offer to be the one to stand on the chair to change the lightbulb, because it is one of those things that costs me very little and adds to another person’s comfort.
So I guess that I just don’t see the point is kicking someone around because of something that they have done in the past and, for lack of a better term, repented of.
I can’t stand sunscreen. Can’t. Stand. It. Actually, not only sunscreen, but any gooey, greasy substance that you smear on yourself. It’s just that sunscreen is the only example of such petroleous spooge that I will allow to touch my skin, because I am normally white as a fucking sheet, and turn a blazing shade of pink when exposed to sunlight for anything longer than about 30 min.
Hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it. Imagine nails on the chalkboard, to the tenth power. Fortunately, they make that mostly-isopropanol-based gunk you can spray out of a bottle, which seems to have a minimum of greasy ooze. That stuff has really made my life a lot easier. But it runs out fast.
After that, my wife, who I’m sure does it for my own good, insists on whipping out the tube of Coppertone or Bullfrog or whatever she’s got, and proceeds to hose me with that oleous spunk from Hell.
She laughs at my pathetic screams.
I’m pretty sure this is a bona fide pathology. And it’s asinine. My purported friends know I hate lotion; and, of course, being the sorts of folks I associate with, they torture me mercilessly with it when opportunity or desire presents (which isn’t that often anymore, admittedly). Do I complain? No. Well, actually, I do, bitterly, but it’s a really absurd aversion, and I know that unless I want to turn into some kind of drama-queen with my panties constantly in a twist, I try to have a sense of fucking humor about it. Plus, I pretty much have carte blanche to reward the bastards and bastardettes who ridiculed my disease with the most diabolically toe-curling practical jokes my duplicitous mind can contrive. One of these days.
The one longstanding, truly stupid fear I have is spiders. I like snakes, other bugs are…okay, really love weird rodents of all sorts. Heck, I even enjoy tornados, which is the diametric opposite of sensible fear.
So I can’t even look at a picture of a spider without shuddering. And yeah, some folks have teased me with spiderish things; especially my sister when we both children and therefore chock full of uncouth impulses and low humor.
But c’mon. Being teased with something that makes my nerves jump isn’t fun, but it isn’t the end of the world either. If anything, the major problem is being embarrassed by being afraid of something that stupid. The fact that my already tangled brain synapses short out over something asinine doesn’t absolve me of all responsiblity. It’s my stupid quirk, and I’m responsible for coping with it. That includes dealing with the occassional too-rough teaser.
Being teased with an irrational fear doesn’t translate to victimhood. Deliberately teasing someone that way isn’t nice, but it’s damned small spuds on the grand scale of what else life can, and often does, throw in one’s way.
If anything, this should teach us not to reveal our fears and weaknesses to people who don’t have a vested interested in protecting us from them.
It really doesn’t make us more interesting or special to have an irrational fear. It makes us look like wussies, and there’s enough of that out there already.
ANother phobic checking in here, with the much more common phobia of needles. I get stuck with one probably about once every five years. I avoid travelling to countries where I might need a shot or two before the trip. I don’t give blood, and I’ve ignored my doctor’s instruction to get a cholesterol test because I don’t want to be stuck with a needle.
I know it doesn’t hurt. Last time I got a shot (it was either get the shot, or give up my dream of becoming a teacher), i thought while it happened, “Well, this is easy and painless–why the sleepless nights?” Then it was over, and I tried to stand up and realized I couldn’t and threw up all over myself. ALl the while, I was thinking, “This is so fucking stupid! What’s wrong with me?” Not thinking, “Aaah! nasty needles!” Just thinking fierce contempt and frustration at myself as I ralphed everywhere.
Phobias are irrational, and it’s pretty awful to make fun of people who have them. It’s sort of like finding out that someone’s got a foot injury and making sure you stomp on their foot when they pass.
However, I realize that most people don’t realize that phobias are unlike embarrassing stories, where teasing someone about it is fair game. So when people launch into their dreadful needle stories, I don’t blame them. I just look at them humorlessly and say, “Tell you what–I’ll go ahead and leave so y’all can tell your stories. Someone come get me when the conversation has changed.”
Was it difficult for you to write about your phobias, mentioning the objects of your fears by name repeatedly? Or is reading and writing about them (as opposed to listening and speaking) somehow therapeutic?
