Yet again, current events have drudged up old, otherwise forgotten childhood stories, that I no doubt buried deep into my memory for obvious reasons…
I seem to have this odd fear of swarms of birds since my grammar school years stemming from a few mild live occurrences [which wouldn’t affect any normal child.]
To start, I suffered extreme emotional distress when trying to memorize the entirety of Edgar Allan Poe’s "The Raven" for a fifth grade homework assignment. My inability to understand poetry combined with my diagnosed chronic migraines made it nearly impossible for me to retain/memorize/speak coherently about any piece of literature; that is until I grew out of the migraines [and also the poetry portion of my education.]
The second event is relatively hazy, or perhaps not even a separate event at that, but I remember distinct images I used to envision during our bird unit in Language Arts. Our class either read a book about a man trapped in his home being swarmed by angry flocks of birds, or I had come to this very detailed visual on my own. Since I doubt the Sudbury School System would allow eleven year olds to read about killing birds, and the latter certainly wouldn’t surprise me, I am sure I came to this vision on my own [probably still scarred from my memorizing days.] Regardless, however this vision did originate, I have a strong memory of a swarm of crows flying down a brick chimney and killing me…one would ask the question of why I wasn’t put into therapy or on anti-psychotic meds much earlier in life.
Similarly, later in life, I was on a leisure run, minding my own business [ha, ya right, since when is running ever leisure] when I was rudely confronted by a giant goose. Whether he mistakenly took my heavy breathing for death threats, or he thought it would just be a funny joke, I soon found myself sprinting away from a charging Canadian Goose. I mean, come on, I already hate running, do we really need to add in attacking animals when I am trying to do something good for my body?!
At any rate, ever since then, I have always had an awareness of birds, their droppings, and their potential sneak attack from above, behind and any other direction; especially if said bird cannot fit in the palm of my hand.
Imagine my distress/anxiety/freak out when I found out there are now birds falling out of the sky in masses.
Yes, there are birds falling out of the sky.
On New Years day, in the little town of Beebe, Arkansas, thousands of birds mysteriously fell from the sky. Don't believe me? Google it.
This is my ultimate nightmare. I am scared of getting hit by water balloons and bird poop, never mind getting sideswiped by a dead bird carcass. This just gives me even more anxiety whilst walking in the street: it doesn’t matter if I avoid stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk if I get whacked with a falling bird. Just sayin’.
Also, does this mean I should stop saying things like: “yeah, okay, when pigs fly?” Because that is a phobia I am just not ready to think about coming to reality.
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