Bee afraid. Bee very afraid.

On a bright and sunny day last week, I decided that Jack and I would head over to my sister's house to check in on her cat, as she was out of town. I put the baby down in his playpen for a moment, so that I could take the dogs and a big bowl of water outside to the dog run before we left. Ten steps from the door, a bee approached me and began to circle. I completely lost all control and clambered, screaming, up the back steps onto the screened deck. Seconds later I was standing on that deck, drenched in the water from the dog bowl, heart pounding, and shaking all over. It was this precise moment, as I caught a glimpse of myself reflected in the window, that I decided it was time for a change.

Since I was about 8 or 9 I have been utterly terrified of bees, wasps, hornets, and any other number of winged death-beasts. The incident that precipitated this fear is as follows:

One day my little friend Michelle was visiting me at our small farm. I decided I would do some showing off, and began climbing the pear tree in our back yard. When I was about 20-25 feet off the ground, I started shouting down to my friend. It was just then that I became aware of an ominous buzzing. Looking up, I saw that right above me hung one of those enormous hornet's nests, and the residents were not happy. Hornets began pouring from the nest, stinging me, and getting caught in my hair. Because I was in a tree, there was no speedy escape, and I had to climb slowly down, screaming, until my dad came running and I jumped from the bottom branch into his waiting arms.

So now you understand the terror. This one incident has left a deep psychological scar. It has had a negative effect on my life, causing me to miss out on many an outdoor event. I tend to stay indoors on those beautiful summer days when the flowers are in full bloom instead of enjoying my gardens. No, I am not a recluse, but I am especially nervous to go outside alone during summer, and being outdoors where shelter is not readily available is very distressing. I am braver in groups, and will venture out for the occasional hike or kayaking trip, but I am never at ease in my surroundings.

This is no simple fear either - it is a fight-or-flight, I am going to die feeling of dread when a bee chases me. I can rationalize all I want, but when the stimulus is there, I can't control my response. It is not even the pain of a sting that scares me. Needles don't scare me a bit - I can and have given myself many an injection. It is just a hardwired reflex to stinging insects and especially the noise they make. My reactions to bees are so overblown, that if you forced me to choose between catching a bee in my hand, and catching a rattlesnake, within minutes you'd be calling 911 and telling them to bring the antivenin.

So now that I have a child to consider, I have decided to attempt to rid myself of this burdensom phobia. I want to be able to take the baby outside on nice days, without anxiety. Mostly, I DO NOT want him to witness my fear and become afraid himself. A couple of days after the "dog bowl" event, I called a clinical psychologist in our area who specializes in the treatment of phobias, using a technique called EMDR. We spoke by phone, and she assured me that I am a good candidate for this therapy because I have a specific phobia, with a known onset. Apparently, you talk through your traumatic experience(s) while both the right and left side of your brain are stimulated visually (often with lights). This process apparently retrains your brain's responses.

My first appointment is May 5th, and I will go with cautious excitement. It is nearly impossible for me to imagine ever having a normal reaction to something that has caused me terror for most of my life. Truly, though, if it does work, it will mean a whole new world has opened up for me. I will be sure to post updates as I go. I can hardly wait to begin!