I’m afraid an airplane will crash into my house.

I’m afraid I’ll look out the window at night and see someone staring back at me.

I’m afraid a sinkhole will open under my feet.

I’m afraid a snake will slither over my foot while I’m driving.

And those are just my irrational fears. Which let’s be honest aren’t really all even out of the realm of possibility. Is there any such thing as an irrational fear? Airplanes crash into houses. Creeps are everywhere. A sinkhole opened in a parking lot across the street from my house last month. My mother-in-law found a snake in her car a few years ago. These things happen.

But what are the chances they’ll happen to me, and why do I spend so much time worrying about them? Sometimes I think I’m taking a Bob Wiley approach to life: “If I fake it, then I don’t have it.” That’s not healthy. I know that. But I can’t stop myself. I think it comes from reading too much John Irving in my formative years.

(Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be paranoid. Don’t let ’em read Irving, Dean Koontz or Stephen King. Make ’em read Austen and Alcott and such.)
Continue reading Maybe FDR was right about that unreasoning, unjustified terror →