Arachnophilia?
Earlier this evening I found myself face-to-palps with a Chilean Rose tarantula with a bald spot where it had got irritated with one of its handlers and fired off some of its abdominal hairs as a threat. I also held piece of wood about 6 inches by 6 inches with a rather large Mexican red-kneed tarantula on it - no bald spot this time, and in fact, compared to its Chilean cousin this spider was rather restrained: no climbing out of its tank and nearly falling on the floor, and no chasing its dinner around in an undignified fashion.
Yes, tonight was the night of my spider phobics' course at Bristol Zoo, and in this age of certification I have a signed piece of paper from one of the zoo educationalists and the visiting hypnotherapist to confirm that I didn't chicken out of attending! I've spent the evening absorbing interesting spider facts, looking at shed spider skins (and cockroach and other invertebrate skins), lying on the floor doing relaxation exercises and receiving hypnotherapy.
What amazed me was that I am by far from being the 'worst' type of phobic on the course. My colleague Steve won't open his windows at all and stuffs towels under his bedroom door every night, before he spends ages checking and re-checking the absence of spiders in his room. This is after he's checked and re-checked whether he put the plugs into the bath and all the sinks in his house just in case a cheeky spider should climb out of the U-bend... Someone else's kind brothers taped plastic spiders all over their room doors in the knowledge that this would deter their sister from ever entering. One woman drove her car into a hedge - deliberately - when she found a spider in the front with her, and another locked her children into their bedroom for an hour when she found a spider on their door and couldn't pass through it until her husband came home and 'dealt' with things.
That level of fear is absolutely paralysing and I'm glad to say that I experience much milder symptoms, but even so, I have my moments of terror. By the end of this evening not only was I able to hold the wood with a tarantula on it, but I had also picked up transparent boxes containing live(ly) wood and house spiders - the type that I encounter as a matter of routine. I guess the comparison in size made the British spiders seem much smaller and less significant, and I came away feeling that perhaps I would be able to do the cup-and-paper routine effectively next time. What I found very interesting was that my fear seems to stem from disgust: I find the hairy abdomens and spindly legs and eight eyes disgusting and frightening. I don't seem to fear spiders in the sense that they're coming after me and want to harm me - I really don't like the look or feel of them. This came out most when I tried to encounter their shed skins, and those of other invertebrates such as stick-insects and cockroaches: I almost couldn't bear to be near the boxes of skins, even though they were inanimate! So it seems to be something about touch - I fear them touching me, and as long as they aren't touching me I'm more or less OK. My worst moment was deciding that I should be able to touch a tarantula's cast-off skin and really, really not wanting to do it. I managed it, and afterwards the challenge of touching the real live tarantula was somehow less difficult. I'm not sure why it is their skins that frighten me - it seems an obscure aspect of arachnophobia, but there it is.
As the hypnotherapist said, this evening's course was not designedd to eradicate the phobia but to help make it manageable. Now I have to practice thinking differently about spiders: finding interesting things about them and what they are doing, sharing that curiosity with Ella and not frightening her, and recognising that they mostly want to run away from me and not nest in my hair... it's as much about changing the habits in my thinking as it is about managing not to panic! Wish me luck.
Yes, tonight was the night of my spider phobics' course at Bristol Zoo, and in this age of certification I have a signed piece of paper from one of the zoo educationalists and the visiting hypnotherapist to confirm that I didn't chicken out of attending! I've spent the evening absorbing interesting spider facts, looking at shed spider skins (and cockroach and other invertebrate skins), lying on the floor doing relaxation exercises and receiving hypnotherapy.
What amazed me was that I am by far from being the 'worst' type of phobic on the course. My colleague Steve won't open his windows at all and stuffs towels under his bedroom door every night, before he spends ages checking and re-checking the absence of spiders in his room. This is after he's checked and re-checked whether he put the plugs into the bath and all the sinks in his house just in case a cheeky spider should climb out of the U-bend... Someone else's kind brothers taped plastic spiders all over their room doors in the knowledge that this would deter their sister from ever entering. One woman drove her car into a hedge - deliberately - when she found a spider in the front with her, and another locked her children into their bedroom for an hour when she found a spider on their door and couldn't pass through it until her husband came home and 'dealt' with things.
That level of fear is absolutely paralysing and I'm glad to say that I experience much milder symptoms, but even so, I have my moments of terror. By the end of this evening not only was I able to hold the wood with a tarantula on it, but I had also picked up transparent boxes containing live(ly) wood and house spiders - the type that I encounter as a matter of routine. I guess the comparison in size made the British spiders seem much smaller and less significant, and I came away feeling that perhaps I would be able to do the cup-and-paper routine effectively next time. What I found very interesting was that my fear seems to stem from disgust: I find the hairy abdomens and spindly legs and eight eyes disgusting and frightening. I don't seem to fear spiders in the sense that they're coming after me and want to harm me - I really don't like the look or feel of them. This came out most when I tried to encounter their shed skins, and those of other invertebrates such as stick-insects and cockroaches: I almost couldn't bear to be near the boxes of skins, even though they were inanimate! So it seems to be something about touch - I fear them touching me, and as long as they aren't touching me I'm more or less OK. My worst moment was deciding that I should be able to touch a tarantula's cast-off skin and really, really not wanting to do it. I managed it, and afterwards the challenge of touching the real live tarantula was somehow less difficult. I'm not sure why it is their skins that frighten me - it seems an obscure aspect of arachnophobia, but there it is.
As the hypnotherapist said, this evening's course was not designedd to eradicate the phobia but to help make it manageable. Now I have to practice thinking differently about spiders: finding interesting things about them and what they are doing, sharing that curiosity with Ella and not frightening her, and recognising that they mostly want to run away from me and not nest in my hair... it's as much about changing the habits in my thinking as it is about managing not to panic! Wish me luck.
posted by Sara Bowen at 10:36 pm
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