Papyrophobia

I can see you all being slightly baffled  at the title of this post. What does it mean? 

Well it's a phobia. Not just any phobia. A phobia I have. 

Papyrophobia is defined as a pathological, irrational fear of paper. 

It could either be a clean sheet of paper or crumpled paper or even the size of the paper. Others who are suffering with Papyrophobia fear the ripping of paper and even wet paper.

Mine is the latter. Wet paper, wet tissue, wet newspaper… All make me truly shudder. And I can't even say the word s-o-g-g-y. Urgh!

Some people can't stand spiders or snakes. Or maybe heights. For me it's walking into a toilet cubicle and finding wet toilet roll on the floor. 

It's hard to say where it really started. I remember having swimming lessons at the age of seven and being truly freaked out by the dirty wet tissues that had fallen from the sleeves of other swimmers when they changed. 

It's got worse as I've got older. I don't like going to public swimming baths or even public toilets. I really struggle at festivals and on nights out. 

Moving to London intensified it. 

When it rains there seems to be wet newspaper EVERYWHERE. I find myself walking round on my tip-toes just so I don't have to walk with my foot fully on the ground just in case the worst happens and some gets caught on me. And it has happened… 

One evening I was heading home from work tip-toeing about in the rain. Stepping on the escalator I realised there was something between my foot and flip-flop. 

Looking down I saw it was a piece of newspaper. WET newspaper. 

What happened next involved me looking like I was having a massive fit as I tried desperately to shake it off, shrieking. 

Londoners are used to weirdos doing very strange things and often ignore. But the sight of me doing some crazy dance had them sniggering though a couple of kind souls actually did ask if i was OK. I wasn't. But was when I managed to get to the bottom and scrape it off my foot onto the wall. 

Then there was another time when I was heading to Victoria station, again in the rain. 

I was pulling my suitcase when it suddenly became very heavy and hard to pull along. I glanced down to see wet newspaper had been caught up in it. And there was a lot. 

Yelling, I abandoned my suitcase and took a few steps away from it, terrified that some of the paper might actually get stuck onto me. 

What am I going to do? I thought to myself. 

I began to panic, There was no WAY I could get the paper off myself. I mentally was trying to think what was actually in my suitcase, was it really worth anything, could I just abandon it? 

All these (crazy) thoughts were passing through my mind when a nice man, obviously sensing my distress came over. 

'Are you OK?' he asked. 

'Er, yes, I just don't like wet tissue, and there is loads caught up in my suitcase,' I say. I felt like I could cry.

'I'll sort it out,' the stranger kindly offered. Relief flooded through me. 

I turned away as he does the job. 

'All done,' he said, bringing the suitcase over to me. 

'Thank you so much. I don't know what I'd have done without you. Can I buy you a coffee to say thanks?' I said.

The man smiled at me. 

'I've got to get on,' he said. 

He was polite but I could see in his eyes what he really meant: 'There is no chance I would take a coffee from you, you utter mentalist.' 

I didn't really blame him. 

Another time I was in a bar in Liverpool when my friend Shauna said we had to leave.

'You wouldn't be able to cope with the state of the toilets,' she said. 

I shuddered as I realise what she meant. 

There are countless other stories but this post is freaking me out just writing it! And I obviously can't illustrate it with too many pictures because I wouldn't be able to ever look at this post again… 

Phobias are mental. I think it would be a lot easier if I just didn't like spiders… 

Do you have any phobias? And do you think I am crazy?!