My Unique Phobia, And When It Started

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

1311

Abstract

Is this a big deal that interferes with my life? No. As long as I am in the United States, where there are handicap laws that require an alternative to escalators, I’m fine. I never go up escalators unless I know there is an alternate way down.It becomes challenging in two locations. One of them is malls where the the limitation makes navigating challenging. Avoiding malls is easy since I can’t stand them. I’m not sure whether that is because of the escalators, the boring chain stores, or the concentration of mindless, zombie shoppers. I’m fine with never going to another mall again.The other is airports and subways, where waiting for an elevator is fine if there is one, unless you are traveling with someone else, who finds the inconvenience a weird time waster.Few people have asked me about how this phobia came about but I know. I was about 4 years old. My family lived in a suburb of Philadelphia that was about a half-hour train trip to Center City, where my father had an office. A couple of times, my mother took me to visit my father at his office.The train stop where we got off was the Reading Terminal, where to get to the street from the train (at least in the early ‘60s,) you had to take a long, wooden # Options escalator. No one else had any trouble getting on it, but I could not and would not take the step. So, my mother would find a man to pick me up, and the stranger would carry me and deposit me at the bottom of the escalator.This didn’t happen more than twice because first of all, there was no guarantee we’d even find someone to do this job, and second, I was getting too big to be carried.The escalator phobia didn’t intrude much in my life for many years. since, as a suburban child over fifty years ago, there were virtually no escalators in my life. It wasn’t until much later, when I moved to New York City and traveled around the world, that it became obvious that this escalator thing was an issue that most people didn’t have.I know it wasn’t about that escalator in Philadelphia because people of all ages, including kids, had no trouble getting on the escalator which terrified me. Objectively, it wasn’t that scary. And going back up to take the train home was no problem.I’m sure a therapist would say (and I would agree) that it was a fear related to visiting my father. But as long as there are elevators and stairs, I’m not interested in delving into that question. Some mysteries are better left unsolved.</article></body>

I know what, when, and where, but will never know why

I’m willing to bet you never met anyone with my phobia. I have had it since I was a child. There is no name for it, although I refer to it as downescalatorphobia. I’m afraid to go down escalators. I am comfortable going up escalators unless they are extremely long, but down — no way ever.

I know the day it started and I remember every detail. It’s only about going down, not up escalators. But let me describe how it feels.

When I stand at the top of an escalator, I am terrified I will miss a step and I see myself tumbling down head first, so I can’t take that first step.

“Why don’t you just go down backward so you don’t have to look?” some have suggested. Others say, “I’ll get in front of you. Just go ahead.” Well-meaning ideas and unhelpful to say the least.

Is this a big deal that interferes with my life? No. As long as I am in the United States, where there are handicap laws that require an alternative to escalators, I’m fine. I never go up escalators unless I know there is an alternate way down.

It becomes challenging in two locations. One of them is malls where the the limitation makes navigating challenging. Avoiding malls is easy since I can’t stand them. I’m not sure whether that is because of the escalators, the boring chain stores, or the concentration of mindless, zombie shoppers. I’m fine with never going to another mall again.

The other is airports and subways, where waiting for an elevator is fine if there is one, unless you are traveling with someone else, who finds the inconvenience a weird time waster.

Few people have asked me about how this phobia came about but I know. I was about 4 years old. My family lived in a suburb of Philadelphia that was about a half-hour train trip to Center City, where my father had an office. A couple of times, my mother took me to visit my father at his office.

The train stop where we got off was the Reading Terminal, where to get to the street from the train (at least in the early ‘60s,) you had to take a long, wooden escalator. No one else had any trouble getting on it, but I could not and would not take the step. So, my mother would find a man to pick me up, and the stranger would carry me and deposit me at the bottom of the escalator.

This didn’t happen more than twice because first of all, there was no guarantee we’d even find someone to do this job, and second, I was getting too big to be carried.

The escalator phobia didn’t intrude much in my life for many years. since, as a suburban child over fifty years ago, there were virtually no escalators in my life. It wasn’t until much later, when I moved to New York City and traveled around the world, that it became obvious that this escalator thing was an issue that most people didn’t have.

I know it wasn’t about that escalator in Philadelphia because people of all ages, including kids, had no trouble getting on the escalator which terrified me. Objectively, it wasn’t that scary. And going back up to take the train home was no problem.

I’m sure a therapist would say (and I would agree) that it was a fear related to visiting my father. But as long as there are elevators and stairs, I’m not interested in delving into that question. Some mysteries are better left unsolved.