My Hemophobic Story

TW // blood

There are many kinds of Phobias in the world, acrophobia fear of heights, astraphobia fear of thunder and lightning, arachnophobia fear of spiders, and a lot more. just so happens that I developed Hemophobia. 

hemophobia

[ hee-much-foh-bee-uh, hem-uh- ]

noun Psychiatry.

an irrational or disproportionate fear of blood.

Unlike most people, my phobia wasn’t from childhood but from my teenage years. 

It starts like this, we have a cat, she is the most lovable cat ever, but this one time, she was near a window and saw one of her own species roaming around. And so as a ferocious cat, she is, with her fur all up and tail looking like a feather duster, she growled at it.

Then my lovely mother came, and not getting the hint she grabbed the cat. And as a result, the cat slashed her arm. She called out for me, in a very calm manner, surprisingly, and there, I saw blood coming out of her arm (just writing this makes me uncomfortable). 

As a teenager filled with angst, I acted as brave as I could to help her. But she was braver than I was and handled it on her own. After she brushed me away, probably because I wasn’t really helping, but also probably because it was evident that I was shaking. I went inside a room and looked at the mirror.

The next thing I knew, which was really funny, I was crying. Bawling like a baby. Every tear that came out, the back of my palm was there to rub it furiously as if my tears were not allowed to come out. 

At first, I didn't care that much, because I didn't really know what it was.

One day, my mom was readying the vacuum and as I was holding my cat to transfer her to a room (so that she wouldn’t be scared of the woooooo sound) my mom suddenly opened the vacuum making my cat leap out of my arms! and like a genetic deja vu...her back claw scratched me, and my arm gushed with blood! 

I didn't tell my mom at first (because my pride was up to the roof), I went straight to the faucet to clean it and as I was doing that...you know it! I cried and bawled until my mom noticed and patched my wound up. I couldn’t remember much besides crying, not even the pain but my mother said that I was shaking and that I looked really... dumb.

It's weird because my phobia or my response to my phobia is not like everybody else's. I'm not scared of blood alone, like yep, okay draw some blood on me it fine, I just won't look, or yeah that's blood on a test tube, okay that's blood on the street. I've been and seen those, but I'm not scared (but it still makes me uncomfortable). It's just that I cry and I hyperventilate when I can literally see the blood coming out of my body or somebody else. My eyes would become watery out of nowhere. 

And so I, therefore, conclude that considering the root of my phobia, I think that I cried because I felt like at that time blood relates to death and it coming out of a person that is very dear to me, made me scared, and thus if you see me crying over you because you poke your dumb finger on a needle, that's because I don't want to lose you, okay? Okay.