Past life regression fascinates me in an I don’t know much about it, but it sounds wicked cool kind of way. One thing I’ve heard a few times is that if you have an overwhelming, yet irrational, fear of something for which there’s no logical explanation, it probably stems from something that happened in a past life.
If that’s the case I’ve been on this reincarnation merry-go-round a very long time because I’ve got a bucketload of stupid fears that make very little sense and, more often than not, make me look like an ass.
Water in my face: Could I have drowned? Or was it possibly a baptism gone horribly wrong?
Anything touching or resting on my neck: Rumor has it I was strangled or hanged in a past life. Either sounds intriguing, and it seems I might have been a far more interesting person at some point.
Ladders: (Not heights. Just ladders. Even those little dinky two-step stepladders). Yeah, fell off and broke my neck and died. Or maybe walked under one and then got mauled by a rabid grizzly bear.
Earwigs: Raise your hand if you thought Wrath of Khan. You’re probably right.
Anybody repeating anything three time in a row: While it might be fun to imagine a witch chanting some spell which traumatized me right into this lifetime, I’m guessing it was the movie Candyman. Holy crap, that movie paralyzed me with fear. (Unless that movie scared me so much because of the witch that did me in during a past life.) But, seriously, I might be the only person on the planet over five years old who’s actually terrified of Beetlejuice.
Tape measurers: I actually screech if the husband releases the lock and retracts one if I’m anywhere in the room. I was born in ’72 and I’m not sure how long metal, retractable tapes have been in existence, so… Hey, maybe somebody strangled me with a cloth tape a hundred years ago.
The entire concept of outer space: People start talking about space and I start getting panicky and claustrophobic. Unless I was Galileo, it doesn’t seem as though that should stem from a past life.
And now, to the depths of my bizarre psyche…
Chicken feet: Not the chicken, just the feet. This rather unusual phobia first manifested itself when I was young and caught a glimpse of a scene in The Deep. However, I’m not sure a fear caused by cinematic exposure would trigger the kind of reactions that include screaming, vaulting fences (which is not something I normally do) and blacking out, resulting in having no memory of the minutes following exposure to the chicken feet. It’s not like I black out if the husband, thinking he’s the most hilarious thing since the Three Stooges, says “Candyman. Candyman…Candy—oof”. I just scream and throw shit at him to cut him off at whatever cost.
I have no idea, however, how chicken feet could have played a role in a past life.
And…
Potato peelers: :hide: What fascinating and horribly traumatizing thing could have been done to me in a past life with a potato peeler?
Anyone?
Do you have a fear that makes no sense to you? Share it, and we’ll mock you analyze your past lives like we’ve mocked analyzed mine.
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And you think you are not interesting?
*pondering the mysteries of chicken feet*
Are these feet attached or waved at you?
Inquiring minds and stuff…
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Perhaps it’s not so much the potato peeler as it is what the peeler does, peels the skin away… perhaps you were captured in a past life and scalped.
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Yeah. What Azteclady said. Yeesh, girl. :tomato:
But you might take comfort in knowing you’re not the only one who freaks at the thought of outer space. No, not me — if I have any irrational/past life induced fears, they have yet to present themselves — but Pioneer Woman. She just did a whole blog post on that very thing, in fact. With pictures. It’s hysterical. She’s also offering like mega gift card prizes to Amazon to people who answer four questions correctly. Srsly.
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Outer-space freaks me out too. I’m claustrophobic so I think that’s why. It’s suffocatingly DENSE looking. *shiver*
I sleep with my arms protecting my neck. I’ve never been strangled…that I know of…
Water scares me. Love the lake. Love the ocean. Don’t want to swim in either without a giant flotation device strapped to me. With velcro. Snaps. Buckles. And super glue.
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I don’t fly! Airplanes terrify me. I have flown in the past but it was white knuckles all the way. I know, I know, statistics say that flying is safer than driving. Doesn’t matter, I still hate flying. Does this mean that in a past life I was Daedalus or Icarus?
I also have a fear of fire, but I can trace that back to when I was 9 years old and the apartment house we lived in had a bad fire.
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I am deathly afraid of running out of coffee, but there’s a mundane explanation for that one. :coffee:
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Oh we were supposed to share our irrational fears?
Lemme think…
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I’ll have to get back to you…
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Perhaps it’s not so much the potato peeler as it is what the peeler does, peels the skin away… perhaps you were captured in a past life and scalped.
:lmao: That’s AWESOME!!! I bet that’s it!
I’m definitely glad I’m not the only one freaked out by space. Being surrounded by VERY science-minded menfolk, that’s probably the fear they understand the least.
And…the chicken feet…
While I find them extremely unattractive and will suffer a shudder or two, they don’t bother me overly much when attached to the chicken.
Eons ago, I accidentally saw a few minutes of a movie which I’m 99% sure was The Deep. I believe I was too young to watch it and might have come downstairs for something. I don’t know. I’ve also never worked up the nerve to watch the movie again. Watching the voodoo guy stick a dried chicken foot claw into the woman’s stomach…it felt like my whole body seized up. Scary stuff.
There were several opportunities for my chickenfeetphobia to make itself known—enough so my family figured out it’s NOT something you want to spring on me as a joke—but the kicker came when I was seventeen.
We’d moved to EBF Missouri and my mom was house shopping. We went up some back dirt road and there was a really cute house with a black iron fence—the kind with the pointy spears on top. Behind the house was what looked like a miniature schoolhouse. Me being 17, I immediately dragged my cousin to check it out, hoping I could talk my mom into letting me have it.
After stepping inside, it took a few seconds for the horror to register. I don’t know what the hell they used that building for, but there were hundreds of dried chicken feet—hanging from the walls, the ceiling, you name it. The next thing I knew, I was locked in my aunt’s van, hysterical, with my mom knocking on the window trying to get me to open the door.
I’m told I went running past the house, screaming bloody murder and actually vaulted over that spear-topped fence, and locked myself in the van. Now, even though my clothing size was single digit back then, leaping over anything wasn’t something I did.
We left and she bought a different house. In all the time we lived there, I never even drove up that road again.
Even the photo of the chicken feet on Alison’s blog a couple weeks back freaked me out enough I snatched my hand away and knocked my coffee over.
Doesn’t matter, I still hate flying. Does this mean that in a past life I was Daedalus or Icarus?
:lmao: It just might! Or maybe you were a goose and you fell out of formation and got lost and ended up being dinner?
Clearly Charli lived through a horrific coffee shortage in a past life.
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Ok… this is embarrassing… you’re all gonna laugh. I have an irrational fear of the car wash.
Yep. Those big scary blue monster brushes coming at your car? Won’t go near em with a ten foot pole.
I guess in pastlife regression, I was mistaken for a cookie and eaten by cookie monster. teehee.
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I guess in pastlife regression, I was mistaken for a cookie and eaten by cookie monster. teehee.
:lmao: That’s even cooler….umm…more cool?…than being scalped!
And, speaking of the car wash, I can’t use those awesome car wash vacuums anymore. Two or three years ago I had my head down in the car, vacuuming the floor and it occured to me that would be an awesome way for a serial killer to sneak up on a woman. (I might have even blogged about it. Or mentioned it somewhere.)
But you can’t hear anything, you can’t see anything, and nobody would find it odd if a van pulled up to the vacuum next to you.
I’m now the proud owner of a mini shopvac just for vacuuming my car.
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You gotta write about that serial killer, Shannon!
And the chicken feet… wow. I think I would have freaked too, even without having watched the movie.
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I love this post! :clap:
I went through a past-life regression once. It didn’t focus on fears so much as…well, issues, lol.
Fears?
I have an irrational fear of swinging bridges. Don’t remember ever being on one, but I verge on panic attack at the thought of it.
Potato peeler?
Hmm. It’s very much like whittling, isn’t it?
Maybe, in some lifetime, you were carving out a ladder, and…
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omy!
I share the outspace one. I have very much difficulty even watching space movies. I cannot look at or watch video of astronauts doing space walks. It’s not the suit or the claustophobia–it’s the concept of floating away into nothingness.
The only other thing my demented mind can think of at this hour is cockroaches and maggots. On me. I don’t like em, hate em to be specific, but if you wanna see a person freak like Shan confronted with chicken feet, tell me there’s a cockroach crawling up my leg. Now, has this ever happened? No. Same with maggots. I do recall a horror move I saw as a kid in which some guy was locked into this tiny room and it was filled with cockroaches and he was buried alive. He’s screaming and they’re crawling in his mouth, up his nose… *pauses to have an anxiety attack*. So I bet that’s it.
No fear of water, fire, or any other general means of death.
Thinking now… there IS this stretch of highway between here and the next town. It’s a fourlane, pretty straight stretch of road, about 15 miles long. I’ve driven it numerous times, ridden in it far more. It’s got railroad tracks running parallel on one side and is wooded with occasional breaks for house plots on the other. There’s not a time I go down that road that I don’t have goosebumps and am frozen by a fear I can’t explain. One time we went down there on the motorcycle and I held on, closed my eyes and tried NOT to cry. When we got off I was shaking and insisted we take a longer way home. Guess that’s fodder for your past life regression.
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I can’t think of any irrational fears I have. And I don’t think many of the ones mentioned here are irrational–flying, heights, even cockroaches and maggots. The first two are ways you can die, even if it’s unlikely you will, and the latter represent a state of being we don’t want to be in. So they seem perfectly rational to me.
The whole neck thing–when I was a kid, I’d gag if I tried to wear turtlenecks, and I was given the same thought, that I was hung or strangled in a past life. With the number of people I’ve met since then with similar issues, I’m of the theory that it’s just a primitive survival feature. Our necks are very vulnerable, what with housing major veins and arteries and that breathing pipe, and the desire to keep things away stems from the desire to stay alive!
Chicken feet fear = unique and unduplicable. We love you just the way you are, Shan!