Wednesday, 20 June 2012

Hung up - Phone Phobia

(Photo by dissent_is_cool)

I'm trying to blog about my mental health a bit more, as despite knowing how common some mental health issues are, I still cringe talking about my own issues. I suffer quite badly from anxiety (not so much anymore from the physical feeling of anxiety thanks to tablets, but the thoughts are still very much there) and I am aware that some of the things I have anxieties about are absolutely ridiculous. I could even laugh at them if they weren't so crippling.


One of the many things I hate: phone calls. I hate phone calls a ridiculous amount. I hate answering calls, I absolutely despise ringing people. The only person I can ring without panicking is my mum. It makes me feel pathetic. Scared of phone calls? How ridiculous.


My landlord frequently rings and I ignore it. I just tried to apply for a volunteering placement, but then I panicked and realised they had my number and would probably ring me to talk about my enquiry for the position, so I didn't apply. When I say I hate phone calls, it's because every time my phone rings I get a sinking feeling in my stomach, I feel like I'm going to throw up and sometimes I even get dizzy because I get anxious so suddenly. It's completely ridiculous and yet I feel completely out of control of it. In the past my mum has tried to force me to make phone calls because she sees it as me just being awkward, when in reality I honestly feel like I'd sometimes rather chop off my own leg than call someone.


I get pissed off with myself all the time because of it. There are certain situations which I associate with extreme anxiety, and they remind me that despite generally feeling free from anxiety since I started on anti-depressants, deep down I'm still very much a puppet to my anxiety. The hardest thing for me is the anxiety being internal - it's not something external that I can eventually work my way up to battling...it's basically me working myself up to confronting myself, and my anxiety itself has a habit of making me try to forget about things bothering me. So I get confronted with the fear, try my best to forget about it, and push it to the back of my mind. Then each time the anxiety gets brought up again it gets more severe and makes me feel even worse about myself.


So ultimately, at the age of 20, I still avoid phone calls as much as possible, which is really beginning to interfere with things. I struggle to ring my friends so I find it hard to stay in touch unless I see people face-to-face or contact them over Facebook or by text. I struggle to make doctors appointments and I just went a week without anti-depressants because I had run out and was so nervous about ringing up my doctor and changing my appointment to an emergency appointment that I simply didn't do it, and instead made myself ill for a week.


On the rare occasions when I absolutely have to make a phone call it'll probably take me about half an hour to prepare myself before I can even pick up the phone. I'll have to have the things I want to say written out word for word and I'll probably have to say the words over and over again until I'm absolutely positive of what I'm going to say. Sometimes I read over the words so many times that they lose their meaning and I end up mincing my words anyway. However obviously phone calls are not scripted, and so the more off track a phone call goes, the less prepared I am, and the more uneasy I start to feel. Without exaggeration, when I'm on the phone to someone I feel about as tense as if I was stood on the edge of a 50 foot building and could fall off any minute. It's an absolutely horrible feeling, and made even worse by the fact that I know it's completely irrational and ridiculous, and that because of this I'm constantly told to stop being lazy and just make the call. No one really understands that when I say I'm scared of phone calls, I mean I am actually terrified of them, and at the moment, as has been the case for many years, I feel completely unable to do anything about it.


When it comes down to it, I think the thing that frightens me the most about phone calls is an immediate worry about sounding weird/coming across rude or awkward/mincing my words.  I've always been ridiculously shy, self-critical and very conscious of what other people think of me and I think that plays a huge part in it. Despite overcoming my shyness considerably in other situations, the fear of phone calls has always remained. The thought of coming across as rude whenever I'm anxious makes me worry, as I would end up feeling disproportionately guilty and due to anxiety, would think about it over and over again and end up feeling more and more guilty. The fact that I have nothing other than the sound of my voice to communicate panics me, as I can't use my body language or smile to communicate, and thus I feel like anything I say could be misinterpreted and reflect badly on me, or even offend whoever I'm on the phone with. It frustrates me that it bothers me so much, but I find it impossible to not worry.


The point is that when I'm anxious I feel vulnerable, and despite being 20 and supposedly independent, trying to overcome this has seemed like such a massive task to do on my own that I've simply avoided doing it at all costs. I feel like I would need someone to hold my hand the whole way, and yet to me it seems like such a ridiculous thing to be scared of that simply asking someone to help me to get through it would seem unnecessary. I think ultimately I won't try and confront this ridiculous fear until someone forces me too, or at least checks up on me and makes sure I'm actually doing it. I suppose I could start by ringing up friends and family and then work my way up to people I don't know, but the thought worries me so much that instead of wanting to face up to it, I just end up cowering away each time.


As for now, I'm stuck. At the moment I want to volunteer and yet the prospect of one phone call scares me so much that it's putting me off. It frustrates me to high heaven so I can only hope to somehow get over this damn thing. Until then I'm going to sit here on my arse and regret not doing anything about it. Hmph.



Sunday, 10 June 2012

Hairy Pits

(2 & a bit weeks worth of fuzz...)

About three weeks ago I decided that as a little experiment - and frankly because the exam period is a long, boring one and I wanted something to do - I would grow my armpit hair.


Why? From the moment I developed armpit hair, I'd never considered doing anything with it other than shaving it off and pretending that it didn't exist. It's hammered hard into girls from a young age to deal with "problematic" body hair, because if you are hairy you don't fit into the polished expectation of what it is to be female. I don't see hairy armpits in magazines. Every female I know (as far as I'm aware of) uses some form of hair removal on that area. If you have hairy underarms you'll probably get plagued with "eww"s from the opposite sex, and your mum might even beg that you shave it off because it's not ladylike to have hairy underarms. You are not acceptable as a female unless you modify your body, as apparently the female body in its natural state is not good enough. Isn't that a bit...odd? It's not so much a choice between shaving or not shaving - for the majority of women the only real option is to shave or be deemed disgusting, unfeminine and unattractive. Without the male-dominated view of female beauty as dainty, pristine and hygienic, would women even shave their underarms?


Now I look back I feel sorry for my 13-year old self for feeling pressured into shaving, but I think doing something like this would prove to myself that I can still feel confident without shaving my armpits and more important, not feel like I'm compromising my "sexiness" by doing so. I hoped to prove to myself that next time I go to a festival, instead of worrying  about how on earth I'll stay fuzz-free for a week I'll instead worry about more important things, like running out of vodka. I don't particularly care about having hairy armpits, and I can't quite believe it's taken me this long to realise that if I don't want to shave...well...I don't have to.

Why just armpit hair? Basically because I frequently don't shave my legs for extended periods of time anyway (I'm lazy and I don't really care) and I only started altering my pubes when I become sexually active (what a term, ha). For me personally there's a lot of debate about whether to shave/wax/trim/vajazzle your pubes but no one ever discusses whether to shave or not shave armpit hair. Some people go wild over hairy vaginas and yet I don't think I've ever heard one person say "Armpit hair? Mmm, yeah, that's hot!" It seems that armpit hair is one of those things that's always been seen as inherently unfeminine or unhygienic. 
Even the word "armpit" seems so repulsive that we often replace it with "underarm" because it sounds a bit nicer.


So anyway, I haven't shaved for three weeks-ish and I have a nice little armpit bush growing. Not so much like the Australian bush, a bit more like a slightly feeble Manchester bush that's struggling to grow in a garden after a harsh winter and not a lot of rain - I blame fine hair and being naturally blonde - so it's a bit pathetic, but it's a bush nonetheless. I've found the whole process surprisingly easier than I thought it would be and I don't really know why it never occurred to me to try it before, especially as in the past year I've come to the radical conclusion that my body is my own and I can do whatever the hell I want to it. Obviously no one is chaining us up with our armpits in the air and mowing the fuzz off with a Bic disposable razor, but if you're a woman and you feel that you have to shave your armpits otherwise you'll feel unfeminine, ugly, disgusting and face similar negative comments, then someone is essentially chaining you up and making you shave, and you should be really quite pissed off at being made to feel that way.


The big test was last week, as I went on a night out in a top that allowed me to get my fuzz out in public, and I was pretty nervous about doing so. Obviously when you're dancing you're going to put your hands in the air and do some pretty embarrassing dancing - if you're me, anyway. No one mentioned anything despite the fact that I tried to get my armpits in every photo and was dancing with my arms in the air and pointing to them and generally trying to get them out at every possible moment like a proper drunken idiot. I felt great. Either no one mentioned anything because they were being polite, they didn't notice, they just didn't give a fuck, as it should be. Either way, I felt good for it and I know that if someone did confront me about it, or insult me I'd be confident to unleash a can of feminist rant on their ass. We're all allowed preferences, for example on a guy I absolutely despise soul patches and deep V necks but I don't go round expecting all lads to stop having soul patches and wearing deep V necks just because I don't like them. If you don't like underarm hair it doesn't make you a bad person, and that's perfectly fine, just don't think you should expect me to shave to please you.


Verdict? 


I didn't feel any less "womanly", I felt about as sexy as I always do, and if anything I felt more confident. At the end of the day, probably the most important thing I learnt is that it's only hair. It really shouldn't matter, yet body image expectations are such a massive source of unhappiness for many that it suddenly does matter. It's not really about whether or not you shave, it's about feeling comfortable to do what you want with your own body and to realise that it's okay to not fit in with expectations. I think often people get so hung up in the shaving/not-shaving argument that they miss the point. Shave if you want to, and if you don't want to shave...don't shave! The thought that anyone should actually care about a bit of hair coming from your body to the point where they feel like they can get you to change your body to suit their needs? Tell them to fuck off. The most important point is to do what you want. I could decide to shave, I could decide not to shave. I could dye my armpit hair turquoise and plait it and sew sequins onto it. What do it matter to anyone, honestly? Is it even that big a deal? 


[If you want to read more on the subject of body hair alongside body fascism I would massively recommend this post by Nyika.]