I’ve never been one to run, more of a yoga and walks person, but Sunday I did a  half-lap of the field next door!! My husband cheered me on: “Stop running! I can’t help you if you run away from me!”

Wind rustling my flaxen hair, sun shining, heart pounding, sweating…the real deal. Finally I stopped at the end of the field to ask “Is it still on me?”

No, it wasn’t, I ran it off, literally!

What, you ask?

A wasp.

The one that landed on my top in the middle of our lovely walk on a beautiful day with our happy dogs. The buzzkill, if you will.

So, what is like to have a phobia? It’s like that. It’s so fast, one second I see a wasp, or bee, or hornet, or yellow-jacket, mud dauber, etc. The next I am half a block down the road before I even register why or where I am going. It feels exactly like a panic attack, with the need to escape.

People have lots of well-intended helpful advice for me:

Just stay still. (An option that is not available).

It won’t sting you unless you make it angry (or it likes your pop, or your food, or the flower colour of your top, or it’s August, September or October, or you surprise it, or you walk near it, or…)

Just breathe. Oh, you naïve, hopeful deluded fools. Breathe.

Don’t run, it will chase you. (I’ve outrun them so far, for 49 years).

Why haven’t I sought help, tried to get better? I have, oh I have.That, my friend is an entirely different story.

Have I ever been stung? Yes, and that too is another tale.

The pain of a sting is not proportionate to the fear. My rational mind knows that. Phobias do not respond to ration, facts or logic.

Fearfully yours,



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