It's difficult to pinpoint the exact moment that this severe fear was imprinted forever in my psyche. Was it that time when, at the young and impressionable age of 8, my best friend and I were jumping over a small bush containing a not so innocent hornets nest? My friend fell right in the bush and I witnessed as she ran all around, in and out of the house being chased mercilessly by these vicious creatures who were out for revenge? As I recollect, she was in the hospital for a week. That probably planted the seed...but I think what really solidified was not long after that when my family and I were discussing various encounters with insects when I oh so innocently mentioned that I had never been stung by a bee. My Grandmother hypothesized that perhaps I was seriously allergic to bees and that maybe God was protecting me by keeping me from being stung.
So, I suppose my fragile brain interpreted two things. Bees are relentless and will never stop until they sting you...and I must be horribly allergic. Now...I know that these two things are (most likely) not true. My intellect knows that I should not be afraid of bees...but my fight or flight response is perhaps slightly askew in this instance. The longer I lived my life without being stung...the worse my phobia got.
Anyway....last year I discovered that, for some reason, when I'm holding my camera I have this unexplained bravery and tolerance for bees. As long as I've got the camera up to my eye I can manage to stand still and photograph these terrifying little creatures. Sadly, as soon as I put the camera down...it's back to a solid feeling of "WHAT'S THAT ON MY NECK?!" But I suppose it's good that I can face my fears. Maybe one of these days I'll get stung while photographing them and the fear will just go away.
|"She's facing her fear! She's facing her fear!"|