The Dreaded Elevator

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As an adult, as well as during childhood, I have held countless fears. Some are serious, and some have very little explanation to them. Probably the most irrational of all of them would be my fear of elevators…
I can’t pinpoint the exact time that this fear started, though I cannot recall a day when I was comfortable riding in an elevator. Maybe it was that childhood TV show, “Rescue 911” that started my fear; maybe it was my mother’s warnings; or maybe something completely different happened that I have long-since forgotten. Whatever the case, I avoid elevators at all costs.
This has obviously not gone without issue throughout my life. I have walked several flights of stairs to go to doctor’s appointments, including while pregnant, and then while carrying a newborn in a car seat. I make up excuses and figure in extra time to take the stairs whenever I am in a large building.
And, when that unavoidable moment comes that I am forced to occupy an elevator…I hold my breath in an attempt to ward off my panic. I remain motionless, as somehow this may break the elevator, dropping me to my certain death. I watch the lit-up numbers on the screen, willing the power to stay on so that I am not entrapped in this capsule in the dark. Every bump is felt, as I tremble at the thought of a disaster. When the doors finally do open, I am the first to pop out of the torture chamber and breathe a sigh of relief.
I know that it’s ridiculous to have this fear. I realize, in my adulthood, that the elevator is not going to plunge to the ground when stopped. And, help will eventually come if the elevator gets stuck in one spot. This still doesn’t cure the terror I feel when riding one. I’ll probably never get over that feeling. Do you have an irrational fear? What is it?

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