To the best of my knowledge, there is no technical name for my phobia. Although if we were to backtrack, I suppose it’s more of a fear than an actual phobia. Phobias directly impact your everyday way of life; this fear does not. I don’t wander the streets phobic that strangers are going to throw themselves on me for an instant cuddle puddle, because frankly, if that was acceptable societal behavior, I would have moved to the Yukon years ago.
We could start at the very beginning with my first breaths in Beverly, Massachusetts, but considering both my parents loved and cuddled me at, what I’m assuming, was a proper amount, it seems silly to delve into those first few weeks or months and try to find a reason. Keep reading »