My Preliminary Battle Against Ranidaphobia
they consider it a joke. i consider it a battle that i’ll wage in feardom come until god-knows-when.
i thought i would just deal with it once a week, but then, i guess they’re everywhere when the rainy season comes, even at 87-C!
87-C is the house number of our rented cum subsidized home-away-from-home and home-near-from-work in the middle of urban village called west capitol.
so you see, i am not expecting my great scourge to come leaping on our cemented carpark and crawling… goodness! one slimy little one was crawling just near the door knob! ooh, just thinking about it makes my head swell and my hands all clammy. i’m now getting the goosebumps too, and the palpitations.
see? i’m not laughing when they joke about my fear of frogs. and oh how they love to tease me now and then about it. how they love to see me scared and jumpy when they point at nothing and tell me “look ja, frog!”.
or tell me i shouldn’t be afraid of them, really, because one could turn out to be my prince!
so i have to start somewhere. conquer this fear which almost always embarasses me, but sends my so-called friends all ticklish and hooting. in fact, two friends sent me “froggy” gifts. a green burner with a miniature frog as decor and a cuddly frog stuffed toy. the first one is now broken and my friend told me i did it but i didn’t.
now, the second one, ah! i took it as my preliminary stance to battle. i called it “froogie”. i even displayed it on my table and brought it with me when we last visited baguio. poor thing, i left it at my friend’s car.
some say talking about your fear is a good way to start a “treatment”. all right, i’d rather talk about it than be in a room of… can’t breathe!!!