Get out of my brain!
This is me, to a tee. I have everyone I know trained to keep the television volume on an even number all the time. I notice they do it even if I’m not actually watching with them.
I have the breathing used air thing too, but only when the people are close enough so that I notice a difference in temperature or scent, so it’s not too bad a problem for my daily routine. But it does make it so I can’t have a blanket over my head for too long, and it complicates snuggling 
Cigarettes make me crazy. But I can usually move away. I hate it when people walk in front of me smoking, though.
I also can’t stand hearing/feeling people moving around, eating or talking behind me while I’m working, or anyone looking at my computer screen (I get extremely paranoid, even if I’m not doing anything wrong), and a co-worker’s desk is right behind me, so sometimes it gets excruciating, though she’s perfectly nice People laughing near me are pretty cutting too (also paranoia), and I work in a pretty open office with lots of ins and outs, so that really bothers me. I’ve managed to keep these things from affecting my performance (I think) so far, but I laugh to wonder what my co-workers would think if they knew the magnitude of my internal struggles at those times.
I’m a really paranoid driver too, which affects me getting the practice I need to be less paranoid. sigh
Hmm. I’d rather use the restroom in somebody else’s home. Better your place than mine. 
Saliva makes me cringe. Especially dogs. If another human accidentally spits a bit while talking, I die a little inside if a droplet lands on me, and I try to be subtle as I wipe it off. I have a friend whose dog explores the world with her tongue and every time she licks me it strikes me as the equivalent of taking a wet rag and wiping every filthy surface in their house and yard and then wiping it on me. Meanwhile, my friend is saying, “Oh, look, she’s giving you kisses.” GAAAH!!! That dog eats her shit, therefore her tongue is toxic.
I hate when anyone takes interest in my food. This probably goes back to middle school bullies saying, “Dude, you gonna finish that apple crisp?” I had a coworker at my last job who used to frequently ask, “Whatcha got there?” while I was eating lunch. I somehow managed to keep myself from wrapping my arms around my plate and letting out a don’t-try-stealing-my-kill growl.
I have a “thing” about going out the same entrance I came through. I have learned to cope, but it still nags at me when I have to leave a room or building through a different path from which I entered. I feel like I have an imaginary rope that binds me to any building I have to travel through that way. The way I have taught myself to cope is the knowledge that each building I have become entangled with will one day be destroyed.
If you’re touching the eyeball when you are putting a contact lens in or taking it out, you are doing it wrong. The lens should be placed close enough to the eye so that it “leaps” from the finger to the eye. When taking the lens out, you use your fingers to pull the upper and lower eyelids apart. This changes the shape of the surface of the eye, and out pops the contact lens without any touching of the eye itself.
Large birds, meaning “larger than maybe a duck,” terrify me when they’re alive. (I have no problem with eating them.) Geese, swans, turkeys, etc. This isn’t usually an issue, but my father-in-law has a parrot, named Poco. A few days ago we were at his place, and I’d totally forgotten about Poco. I walked into the house and heard a rustling rush of evil coming RIGHT FOR MY HEAD!
Fortunately I managed to contain my instinctive reaction, which would have been to whip around and rip the little monster’s head off while shrieking like a baboon. Instead I ducked slightly, caught myself, and played it cool. I kept one eye on the bird the whole time we were there, though.
I dread the day I’m at a zoo or something and forced to confront an ostrich. It won’t be pretty.
I hate making phone calls, especially in front of other people, it makes me terribly embarrassed for some reason. I’ll email, write a letter, use my mobile in an archive room, wait for the office to empty, anything to avoid phoning in front of others.
Polyesterish man-made fibres. If I have to touch my SO’s wet socks after a wash, to hang them out, or to put them away dry, I want to cry. I chew clothing in stores to check how much horrible polyestery content there is. I put in the very edge of a sleeve etc and give it a little nibble, my teeth will scream at me if it’s a synthetic or blended synthetic. I can’t touch steel wool or ever have talcum powder on my hands - I feel like I’m suffocating. Ergh.
Thank you for trying to apply logic to what is a completely irrational, completely emotional reaction on my part. Still ain’t happenin, though. 
Generally speaking, children drive me insane. If I’m expecting the child to be present (say going to his birthday party or babysitting or something), I can enjoy myself and the child with no problem. However, if I’m not expecting children to be present, or I am forced into a situation with children, I feel like I’m slowly building toward outright madness.
My discomfort is much, much worse in situations where children are forced upon me and I’m more or less expected to take care of them or at least keep an eye on them. If someone leaves the room and leaves me alone with their kids, I can only count the seconds until that person returns, terrified the kid is going to drown in the sink or accidentally impale himself on a carving knife or something while his Mom is out of the room. I resent having to pretend I want the kid to be there. It bothers me all the needs that children have, how vulnerable they are to mistreatment, how clueless they are about the consequences of their actions, and how utterly dependent they are on the kindness of adults.
It’s not exactly a socially acceptable phobia to have–to make things worse, I’m a woman of childbearing age-- so I’ve never really talked about it before. I don’t really expect anyone to understand. But there you go.
ETA: This generally only applies to children under 6. After that, for some reason, I don’t mind.
I know where your coming from ,Im a very socially confident extrovert and can make conversation with ease to people of just about any background at any time ,and being British ,for politeness sake I do so.
But really speaking if I had the choice I just wouldnt bother,I find myself avoiding party invites and pub sessions where I can cos it feels to me to that people are drinking to lower their inhibitions and then making idle conversation to fill the time up.
Maybe Id enjoy it more if Iwere more inhibited.
If Im walking down a street,any street at any time of day ,a crowded city centre at mid day even I am unable to stop myself continuinly checking ahead ,behind and to the sides,the roadway and the streetside doors.
At least I know that I wont get caught out by a pack of wolves or a rogue bear.
I thought I was the only one! Sometimes I do it while driving, like… “What would happen if I just… drove in the grass?”
I remember seeing an episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm where Larry didn’t want to be seated next to the emergency exit on a plane, because he was afraid that if he needed to open it, he wouldn’t be able to figure out how.
Story of my life. I have felt exactly that way on planes, and in a more day to day situation: I generally ride my bike to and from work. I am scared that one day, it will rain or I will break my leg…something will happen and I will have to ride the bus and get my bike up on the rack. What if I fuck it up? What if I can’t figure out what to do? I always study other people when they do it, and have even gone on the website and studied the instructions…but still :eek:.
I feel like I am a fairly intelligent person, but I am not confident with my “thinking on my feet” skills. Any situation where I have to do something quickly, I (intensely) fear screwing it up. This very subject is making me nervous, and this is obvious because when I get nervous I ramble. I seem to be doing that now.
Christ, I am neurotic.
Oh, and I have to face the door at all times. This is most noticeable in restaurants where I have had to ask the person with me to move if they take that seat first. I went to dinner with a lady I coached softball with and we had a problem, because she was the same way…I let her win (1. because she is bigger than me, and 2. because she is a prison guard, and thus has a reason to be paranoid about such things. I don’t.)
I also hate talking on the phone. I also will not watch a movie/tv show with anything remotely gross (I am ridiculously squeamish). I am also afraid of balloons popping (any sudden loud noise)…
Finally, a big reason I don’t make as many posts to this forum as I might like: I am so afraid of making a spelling mistake, that I will spend several minutes reviewing anything I type (this goes for emails, and anything at all that someone else might look at.). This can be a very arduous task. As you can see from this post, I don’t care as much about grammar/sentence structure and obvious typos happen…but if I misspell a word everybody will think I am stupid.
None that have huge effects on my life, but a couple of weird things: I really don’t like the feeling of air blowing on my skin. I hate fans, air conditioning, etc. Good thing that I’m often cold, and will usually bring a sweater with me everywhere, just in case.
I absolutely can’t stand anyone touching my fingernails or hair gratuitously. Hairdresser and manicurist I can deal with, but I HATE it otherwise. My theory is that it has something to do with feeling the sensation somewhere else than where I’m actually being touched. It’s only real-life implication is that I piss off my grandmother, who tries to play with my hair anyway.
I work in the same office with a guy who, every day, without fail, within 5 minutes of arrival, goes to the water cooler and pours a glass of water, then immediately drinks it all straight down. I can hear him swallowing the water:
“gluck, gluck, gluck, gluck, gluck”
Then he pours a second cup, and does the same thing:
“gluck, gluck, gluck, gluck, gluck”
Then a third cup:
“gluck, gluck, gluck, gluck, gluck”
I don’t know why, but it drives me to the brink of insanity. And I can’t for the life of me figure out how anyone could be so thirsty every single day at that exact time. He comes in at 3:00, so he must go the entire day up to that point without drinking any liquids, just so he can gorge himself the second he gets to work.
The Carl’s Jr. ads where people messily ate burgers dripping goo everywhere and making smacking and slurping sounds used to make me insane as well.
Another hijack—
I, too, had no problem flying until early 20’s-then I started getting nervous. I then a bad flight when I was 26. I didn’t fly for 10 years. (Was busy having kids and no life.) Went last year, flight was ok, but still not real happy. (**Madmonk28’s **suggestion of tapping the fuselage from an earlier thread was great, thanks again.)
My flight last year was barely tolerable, but when on vacation I took a helicopter flight. No problems at all, I love helicopters, always have. Helicopters are much more dangerous, and turbulent than commercial planes, yet I am not uptight at all in them. I revel in helicopters.
Go figure.
I’m not the only one!
This is a big one for me. It makes me want to barf when someone is using an emery board or file on their nails. That’s not hyperbole, I actually get nauseous. I usually ask the person to stop or I’ll just go into another room.
The comfortable listening volume in my car is 13. However, just because some people think that 13 is unlucky, I have to go with 12 or 14. The volume cannot stay at the arbitrary factory number of 13. Oddly, 13 doesn’t bother me in any other aspect of my life.
Finally, we come to sn-k-s. Yes, I can’t even spell out the word of those slithery creatures in the reptile family that have no arms or legs. I can’t see them on TV or in a book or, heaven forbid, in real life. Usually I can avoid them altogether, but working in an academic library, I usually have several students a year who are working on something s-critter related. And I’m professionally obligated to help them. Horrible, horrible situation. I usually have to keep my wits together for a while, help them get started, go to the bathroom and gag or puke for a while, freshen up and then head back to the student and check on them and hope they’re getting along fine. A few years back I had an s-critter in my old house and I thought I had a heart attack. Chest was tight, couldn’t breathe, almost fainted.