AFRAID OF THE DARK. (SAD, SAD, but not sad).


 


Nyctophobia (or Noctophobia) is a phobia characterized by a severe fear of the night. It is triggered by the brain's disfigured perception of what would, or could, happen when in a night-time environment (Wikipedia).

 Wikiphobia is a phobia characterised by a tendency to look-up fears on Wikipedia and post them as scientific fact. (Yanny Mac).



So I'm a bit of a mentalist.

I'm on all sorts of pharmacological gubbins for an anxiety that came from nowhere, stunted my ability to write or perform, destroyed one or two personal relationships, and resulted in me living in a warden-assisted retirement home at the age of 55.

I'm ok about it.

Rather than pretend to be a 'normie', and continue with the excruciatingly painful charade of being a show-off and an all-round party guy, I now live a fairly solitary life with my cats, my tiny patch of garden, and my best friend - the wireless.

I've found that recognising my anxiety and how it leads to depresssive episodes has been quite 'liberating'.
I now know my own limitations.

I also know that my aspirations were folly.
But I have picked-up my pencils again, and I do find that writing (not for financial gain or as a career) is a decent form of therapy.

It feels like I'm talking to someone (anyone!), yet I get to say everything I want, without observing the usual customs or interruptions of an open conversation.

I can call YOU (the omniscient reader) a massive cunt, and I know that I'm unlikely to get a whack!
Not immediately anyhow.


But I've also began to notice that I'm afraid of the dark.


As far as I'm aware, I never was as a child.
It's a relatively new feeling, and it only applies to being outside of my home.

I don't need a night-light.
And although my current bed companion is Ted (a threadbare toy panda from 1973), this is only because I recently rediscovered him in a house move.

I'm not a wuss.
I'm not regressing.
I'm a mentalist.

Some therapists believe it stems from Separation Anxiety Disorder.
Some believe it is connected to Seasonal Affective Disorder.
I personally think it has a lot to do with bio-rhythms, and changing the clocks.

But I'm not a therapist.
I'm a mentalist.

I have however discovered that as long as I leave the house when it's daylight, being out in the dark no longer fills me with fear.
If I can embrace the slow creep of darkness whilst immersed in nature's great spaces - be that a field, a riverbank, a venue, or a pub - I'm perfectly ok.

It's the actual 'leaving' of the house once the sun has dipped below the horizon that cripples me.

And short of the SAD theories, I have absolutely no idea why?


Anyway.
Happy 50th Birthday Ted.
(He's never shut his eyes since 1973!)


(Photo not the real Ted. 
Internet model.)





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