My Biggest Fear of All

We all have things we fear in life, and I have several of them - my house getting broken into, my cats dying, an accidental pregnancy, hell even losing a limb. But tonight, I came face to face with my biggest, most horrendous fear of them all - COCKROACHES.

I was watching TV, minding my own business when I hear my cat playing with something. I thought it was one of those damned beetle-looking bugs that hang out around the light outside my house, but upon further inspection I saw that she was playing with a cockroach - and it was STILL ALIVE. Its little legs twitching *shudders*. I yelled at her, and what does she do? She grabs the damn thing with her mouth and runs under my bed with it. By this point, the fear really set it. I'm screaming like a maniac, I'm running around my house not knowing what it God's name I am going to do, and the tears come - uncontrollable sobbing. My chest and my arms begin to hurt and I'm thinking "great, heart attack here it comes". It's under my bed and both cats are playing with it. I call the only person that understands my deathly fear of them - my mother. Good 'ol mom, knowing exactly my love for these fucking things, is able to calm me down. And like a good roach scardey cat, there is no Raid.

People that have lived with me know that I am terrified, horrified by the sight of a roach, even a dead one. I mean, I'm okay with the sight of spiders, snakes, even bees, but roaches are a whole different game. As a kid, I grew up in an old house, and those bastards were everywhere. I think the fear really set in when I heard my aunt in our bathroom, yelling, and I ran in to find a fucking roach FLYING over her head. Some people don't understand or get it, but if you've ever seen someone deathly afraid of clowns react when they see one, that's me - only with roaches. I was crying to my mom, and it took every dram of courage to step foot into my bedroom and look under the bed. I don't know where it is right now - both cats are still under the bed but I don't know what happened to the spawn of Satan.

The non-medical name for the phobia of roaches is Blattodephobia (which in some circles is considered a made-up name). I know eventually I will have to somehow deal with it because I live alone and I will encounter them again ALONE. But tonight, it will remain under my bed, until one of the cats decides to leave it on my pillow when I wake as a nice present.

(for my own sanity, I decided to leave this post roach-image free. Instead, here is a picture of some kittehs)