I fear a lot of things, but I’ve never really been the kind to let those things show. There are, however, two things I do fear that I’m not afraid to tell you. I fear suffocation and I fear small spaces.

It must have been the last family vacation we took to Disney World where I realized how much I fear suffocation. You see, we were spending one of the days at Typhoon Lagoon because it was hot or we just felt like swimming. I can’t remember. Anyway, my friend Matt and I were in the lazy river and we were ignoring the lazy part of it so we could race our way around it. We had our tubes with us so the life guards wouldn’t yell at us. Well, we had tubes when we were in view of the lifeguards. The rest of the time we were hopping from tube to tube and swimming our way around, letting the current take us a bit faster.

At some point, one of us suggested that we swim under water and pop up into the tubes from beneath. This was fun until it didn’t go as planned. I went under one time, and when tried to come back up, there were no empty tubes to come up in. In fact, there was a wall of tubes and butts between me and the fresh air. As far up the river as I could see and as far down, there was no way I could have swam out from underneath with the breath I had left in me.

Then I felt the need to breathe. I had to fight opening my mouth and sucking in the water. To say it wasn’t easy is like telling someone who the sky isn’t green. It hurt all at once. I wanted to scream out in agony. I didn’t know what to do. I bet it wasn’t more than 20 seconds I was under after realizing I was stuck, but it felt like an eternity. It’s the reason I fear suffocation. I don’t ever want to experience that again.

I managed to escape by shoving some poor woman off of her tube. She didn’t seem to mind as I think she must have figured out what had happened. She was just surprised.

My reason for fearing small spaces is much less colorful than why I fear suffocation. This fear doesn’t come from a bad experience. I think it’s just one of those things I was born with. My problem with small spaces is that I’m not able to move comfortably. The more I can move my arms and legs and head, the more comfortable I am. I don’t know what it is but the less space I have to move, the more my body fights to create the space.I wiggle and squirm and fight my way into an open space. I’ll get violent if I need to.

This claustrophobia of mine is why I can relate when my mother explains why she prefers to be cremated when she dies. Her reasoning is very logical. She says that she also suffers from claustrophobia and if she’s not comfortable being in a box while alive, what’s to say that she’ll be comfortable being in a box while dead? That makes perfect sense to me, but maybe that’s because I share the same affliction. I’m seriously considering cremation as well.

Those are my fears, what are yours?