I have a little quirk I rarely talk about. I have a phobia about telephones. My late friend Jana was one of the few people that didn't kick in a huge amount of the phobia, but that's maybe because I knew her so inside and out I don't go through quite the same mental gyrations.
It's like a bad fit of stagefright. I constantly have to psych myself into it, going "I can do this..." just to pick it up. And I stress most of the time I'm on, because I don't have any clues to the other person's reactions. I obsess, later, over every shade of tone in their voice. It's a skill I've learned to cope with over many years, talking on the phone, but it hasn't really gotten much easier with even huge volumes of phone time.
I have concerned friends who've left me messages (all appreciated), like Meriday and tabbifli, but it's going to take a few days before I can get my gumption up enough to deal with the phobia again, in non-essential cases.
I hate phones, and I've had to be on the phone every day since Jana died, psyching myself into picking one up, and delivering difficult news. Talking to official people about availability of park space for memorials. Returning calls. I keep telling myself it's good for me. Keeps my ability to talk on the phone honed. But in my present state of mind, I never want to pick one up ever again. My personal version of hell is furnished with cel phones.
I keep reflecting I don't belong in the modern world...
