While working on this book, I was often asked which phobias I was writing about. The question initially puzzled me – my intention was always to write about all phobias – though it does perhaps reflect the common but unhelpful assumption that each phobia is a distinct problem with a distinct cause and treatment. In fact, the root causes of fear could apply equally to triskaidekaphobia (fear of the number 13) or gephyrophobia (crossing bridges). This book is intended to be less a self-help book than an exploration of the ideas and thoughts driving progress in the laboratory and the clinic. Everyone with a phobia knows what it is to fight fear and I only hope this book properly acknowledges their courage. But it aims also to focus on the way doctors and scientists are improving our understanding and fighting fear on their behalf.

I am a freelance science and medical journalist and have worked variously in TV, radio, newspapers and magazines. I have no specialist training in phobias, other than a degree in medical sciences. I have never had a phobia or received treatment. My involvement with phobias began in the autumn of 1993 while I was working at New Scientist. The then features editor, Bill O’Neill, received a dossier on the subject from a remarkably well-informed former agoraphobic, Mary Dwarka (whose story is told fully in chapter 9). She had researched her own condition in huge depth and was suggesting that New Scientist run a feature on agoraphobia. Bill was somewhat perplexed by the range of science and arguments in Mary’s work and asked me to look through it to see whether I thought there was enough in the subject to make a feature.

There was more than enough. Enough for a book, I later discovered. At the time, I spoke to a couple of people with experience of phobias and a variety of scientists working on the subject, some suggested by Mary. The resulting feature was optimistic in tone, concentrating on the great advances in our understanding and how they are already translating into new treatments in the clinic.

It sometimes seems that the more one knows about phobias, the less clear everything becomes. Ask members of the public what a phobia is and they will tell you about extreme reactions to spiders or heights. Many will reel off an anecdote about someone they have known with a bizarre fear. And, of course, these are phobias. But as one delves further, boundaries seem to disappear. Where does normal protective fear turn into a phobia? What is the link between generalised anxiety and phobias? Or between panic disorder and panic attacks and phobias? When is agoraphobia a true phobia and when a consequence or the cause of depression? What about avoidance disorders, alcoholism, some personality disorders? Where does phobia end and psychiatry begin? Entire libraries could be devoted to the subject.

Equally, when you ask specialists, they very often produce good clear answers. But ask four professionals in different disciplines and you will be lucky to hear the same thing twice. The amorphous mass of phobia research needs to be simplified for us to get anywhere. Specialists emphasise different aspects, and while none is entirely wrong, none is entirely right either.

This book is an attempt to represent many different points of view. I have chosen to focus a chapter on each approach. Readers may find that some strike a chord while others seem less relevant. Where previous books on phobias have focused on a single approach, this attempts to be an unbiased account of all the advances in all the major schools of thought dealing with phobias.

Introduction
Fight the Fear

John gazed out of the window in private joy. Normally reticent, he grinned broadly at the beauty of the scene. A perfectly round orange sun sat above a plain of clouds but that was not the reason. After years of fear, John was sitting for the first time in an aeroplane.

Other passengers were more obviously excited – not exactly unruly but in exceptionally high spirits. They had come through against all the odds and were laughing with their fellow heroes. Triumph, infused with slight hysteria, prevailed. They slapped each other on the back, charged around kissing and shaking hands with near-total strangers, and one or two cried.

The crew encouraged the party atmosphere, urging passengers to take off their safety belts and walk around. Boisterous adults queued to see the flight deck. Cameras clicked. The aeroplane buzzed with laughter. There were cheers as the plane went through the clouds. Cheers for Mr Evans who had just celebrated his eighty-fifth birthday. Cheers for the pilot, cheers for passengers, cheers for any reason anyone could think of.

This extraordinary journey was solely for those afraid of flying. The forty-five minute round trip from Manchester Airport was the culmination of a day’s ‘Fly with Confidence’ course. This has been run by two British Airways pilots, Captains Douglas Ord and Peter Hughes, ever since 1986, when they realised that many on BA’s flights to view Halley’s Comet had no interest in astronomy. Nervous of flying, they simply wanted to try out a short flight. Since then, 10,000 have enrolled on the course and 98 per cent have boarded the aircraft at the day’s end. No detailed follow-up has been carried out, but Hughes claims nineteen out of twenty feel more comfortable flying as a result.

Single-session treatments symbolise recent progress in dealing with phobias. Immersed in the latest therapies, sufferers can find their years-old phobia conquered in one day. Within a morning, they have been taken through the technicalities of flight, had their views on its dangers challenged and been taught basic relaxation techniques. In the afternoon this brief training is put to the test when they get on an aeroplane. Similar courses exist for those afraid of spiders. Various therapies prepare them for entry into the spider house. The vast majority are then happy to allow huge spiders to run up their arms and even through their hair.

These commercial courses represent the new attitude towards treatment for phobias. Directed at a few specific phobias, they are not a real option for most phobia sufferers. But they do demonstrate the prevailing optimism. In mainstream medicine, doctors and therapists are now confident that they can offer a working solution. Hundreds of years of theories and ideas have finally begun to make an impact.

A simple but dramatic shift in thinking has cleared the way. Phobias were once thought just the tip of an iceberg. Psychiatrists and psychologists believed that therapy had to be undertaken extremely gently for fear of what might be unleashed. This meant that treatment could involve months looking at words or drawings before moving on to the next stage. Vast patience and stamina were essential to complete such a course and most phobias continued unchecked.

In fact, though successful treatment can have knock-on effects, they are usually positive. Some people’s self-esteem gets such a boost, for instance, when they overcome their fear of flying that it can improve all aspects of their life. One woman was completely distraught when she arrived. But fear of flying was only a fraction of her worries. She fretted about her journey home and what would happen if she was late to pick up her children. She was sure the ensuing chaos would make the family late to bed so they would all sleep in the next morning which would ruin the whole day. A catalogue of disaster stretched ahead. As it happened, she was so relaxed and delighted at her own success that she actually missed her motorway turn-off. Though late, the anticipated chain of events did not occur. Her new laid-back attitude persisted and she said later that the course had changed her life.

So phobias can be taken at face value and their symptoms addressed directly. This approach is standard in medicine. A girl with a bacterial infection normally improves quickly once on antibiotics. Her doctor does not have a philosophical debate about why she was the only child in the class to succumb. If she recovers quickly, the doctor has done a good job. Fear, like bacteria, can be confronted, and long-term inhibitions and preoccupations undermined almost immediately. This is tremendously encouraging for anyone with a phobia today. Treatments work and need not take for ever. The root cause may never be known but often has no bearing on the treatment.

Furthermore, phobias often disappear without trace. People suffering from depression may have to embark on a lifetime’s struggle to keep symptoms at bay. Many ex-smokers or drinkers know that they remain a single lapse away from addiction. Phobias, in contrast, can be wiped out for ever with a single course of treatment.

Some phobias are replaced by a fascination with the thing once so dreaded. People previously afraid of snakes or spiders may keep them as pets. A fear of heights might be replaced by the new hobby of rock-climbing. Diana, whose story is told in chapter 5, once had such severe agoraphobia that she was unable to answer the telephone or open a letter. She now gives presentations about her experience. She will never forget her years with agoraphobia or how much it disrupted her (and her family’s) lives, but she can no longer identify with the fear itself.

This new optimism should not, however, belittle the very real problems that remain unsolved. Phobias often go unheralded, unnoticed and, most importantly, untreated. The largest study ever, the Epidemiologic Catchment Area (ECA) Program in the US, aimed to discover how common various disorders are within the general population. More than 20,000 people in the community were interviewed about fifteen different disorders, among them phobias. Researchers found that fewer than one in four with a phobia had received treatment.

Treatments could be improved. Single-session treatments demand tremendous courage, too much for many. Thousands are helped but most phobics find the very idea of attending unthinkable. They often know about the courses, even acknowledge that they themselves could benefit, but their fear is far too great to allow them to sign up. People with phobias live with levels of unimaginable fear and this fear makes even a single day, which could eradicate their problem, too much to ask. Moreover, many who do attend are helped but not cured. Their terror is reduced but they remain exceptionally nervous. A rare few others are not helped at all.

Progress, though, is accelerating. Advances in psychology, psychiatry, genetics and molecular biology are all converging, improving our understanding of the causes of fear and providing new ways of addressing it. A range of much gentler approaches is now becoming available. Increasingly effective drugs can be used alongside behaviour and talking therapies. The talking therapies themselves are being streamlined to focus on practical improvements, rather than dwelling on childhood traumas. Improved understanding of how phobias develop may help us protect our children from ever developing them. Alternative, more speculative approaches suggest lifestyle changes which may make a difference. Whatever treatment is chosen, phobics can now expect relief from their fear in a limited number of sessions. This improvement has been one of the medical success stories of the decade.

The Hidden Epidemic

So, is that the problem solved? Well, no, not quite. For a start, the scale of the problem is immense. Community studies report that up to two in five of us have a severe dislike of something, and even full-blown phobias are common. Strictly speaking, there is no phobia epidemic, since an epidemic usually refers to an infectious disease that has struck an unusual number. There is no evidence suggesting that there are suddenly more people affected than ever before. But to get a rough idea of the scope, let us just compare the prevalence of phobias with a relatively common infectious disease like influenza.

In the winter of 1999/2000, almost 400 out of every 100,000 in the British population went to their doctor with influenza, which means that it was approaching epidemic levels. The impact on the National Health Service was extreme. Hospital beds were filled with flu patients, so planned operations for cancer and heart disease had to be cancelled, and the NHS was in crisis. And this, at a level of 0.4 per cent.

Official figures are probably an underestimate, as many sensibly managed their illness at home, but even if only one in five consulted their doctor, that would mean the real figure affected was 2 per cent. How does this compare with the numbers affected by phobias?

The ECA study mentioned above found that between 4 and 11 per cent of interviewees had suffered from at least one phobia in the past month. From this, researchers estimated that more than 6 per cent of the population has a phobia at any one time.

We all knew at least a handful of people who were ill with influenza in the winter of 1999/2000. This guestimate suggests that, whether aware of it or not, we probably know three times as many with phobias. These figures give some idea of just how widespread phobias are.

A Few Famous Phobics…

Phobias strike across the board, irrespective of intelligence, beauty or success. Kim Basinger and Sir Isaac Newton both suffered from agoraphobia. Sir Isaac was housebound for years up to 1684, after a period of severe stress. His mother died, a fire destroyed some important papers, he was exhausted after finishing his Principia and he was arguing with Cambridge University. All must have been distressing, but none restricted him as much as the agoraphobia that followed. Kim Basinger developed agoraphobia after the birth of her daughter. In some ways it is harder to imagine agoraphobia in an actress: academics can succeed with limited socialising, whereas actresses are subject to the most intense public scrutiny. But Basinger’s experience of agoraphobia is typical of many women’s. The hormonal and lifestyle changes surrounding childbirth are profound, and not even the most glamorous women are immune. This is explored further in chapter 8, on gender.

Arsenal striker Dennis Bergkamp has had a golden career. He has been voted FIFA’s third best player and the top European. But he is unlikely to get a game in Greece, Turkey or Eastern Europe. For Bergkamp has a clause written into his contract ensuring that his club cannot insist on his flying. While the rest of the team take short flights to matches in the north of England or Europe, Bergkamp sets off by car, coach or train. He has flown in the past, but the last time was to play for Holland in the 1994 World Cup in the US. Since then, he has refused to fly at all and if he cannot get to a match overland, he cannot play. Bergkamp’s fear is common knowledge in football circles but he will not talk about the reasons behind it. He has said that after he finishes playing football he may address his fear, but that for the time being at least, he is grounded.

Hans Christian Andersen was middle-aged by the time he developed his fear of fire, following the death of his old friend Jette Wulff in a blaze aboard the Atlantic steamer Austria. After that, Andersen always carried a rope with him, so that he could escape through a window in case of fire. He never used the rope, but it can still be seen at the Hans Christian Andersen Museum in Denmark. His behaviour was exceptional even at a time when fires were relatively common because contemporary buildings were often wooden. But his fear did not prevent him travelling, it simply added to his luggage. He wrote about fire in at least three stories, ‘The Pixie and the Grocers’, ‘The Tin Soldier’ and ‘The Lovers’, but he never tackled his fear.

He had other, stranger fears. He was afraid of dying, of seeming dead while still alive and of being buried alive. He was also afraid of seeing the dead. These fears were not unusual for the time. The mid nineteenth century was a morbid era and many were fixated with death. At a New Year’s Eve party in 1845, he declared that dead people should mark their presence with tones. But then, both he and his hostess, Jenny Lind, the famous Swedish opera singer, were shocked and frightened when they heard a loud C ring out from an apparently untouched piano. However, he managed to capitalise on his fears. Twelve years later, in To Be Or Not To Be the hero hears a reverberating E and thinks it may be a sign from his dead beloved, Esther. So his fear was not entirely in vain.

…And Some Fictional Ones

Spiders, snakes and rats are convenient symbols for fear or disgust and our screens are littered with them. Film directors rely on our near-universal unease to set a scene within a couple of frames. These are obviously difficult viewing if they are the object of your phobia and chapter 2 explores how far the media might even contribute to some of our fears.

Direct portrayals of phobias are less common but in the film Arachnophobia, Dr Ross Jennings (played by Jeff Daniels) has been intensely afraid of spiders all his life. His first memory is of himself lying near-naked in his cot when a spider crawled through the bars and on to his leg. His limbs froze and he was utterly helpless, unable to stop it moving over his bare skin.

The film climaxes with a replica of this incident. Now adult, Jennings is lying motionless, trapped by fallen rubble: the cellar is starting to catch fire. He watches horrified as a huge Venezuelan spider approaches his foot. This time the spider’s bite would be fatal. It moves up his leg and onto his shirt. Is Jennings paralysed with fear again? Or does he have a plan? With impeccable timing, he waits until the spider climbs over a piece of wood lying across his chest, and then thumps the far end of the plank, catapulting the spider across the room into the fire. He and his country are spared.

George Orwell’s 1984 tackles the subject of specific fears more directly. Winston Smith pales and endures ‘a black instant of panic’ when a rat appears in the secret room he shares with his girlfriend, Julia. Later, when his opposition to the all-pervading Party is discovered, he is sent to the Ministry of Love. He is beaten with fists, truncheons, steel rods and boots. He endures high-voltage electric shocks, is deprived of food and sleep, undergoes hours of questioning and makes numerous confessions, but still he loves Julia. Then he is transported to the notorious Room 101.

Room 101 contains ‘the worst thing in the world’. His captor, O’Brien, tells him: ‘The worst thing in the world varies from individual to individual. It may be burial alive, or death by fire, or by drowning, or by impalement, or fifty other deaths. There are cases where it is some quite trivial thing, not even fatal.’

This sounds rather like phobias. Winston’s Room 101 contains two enormous hungry rats in a cage held close to his face. O’Brien continues:

There are occasions when a human being will stand out against pain, even to the point of death. But for everyone there is something unendurable – something that cannot be contemplated. Courage and cowardice are not involved. If you are falling from a height it is not cowardly to clutch at a rope. If you have come up from deep water it is not cowardly to fill your lungs with air. It is merely an instinct which cannot be destroyed. It is the same with the rats. For you they are unendurable. They are a form of pressure that you cannot withstand, even if you wished to.

O’Brien is right. As the cage is brought so close that ‘the foul musty odour of the brutes struck his nostrils’ and the wire touches Winston’s cheek, he starts shouting frantically: ‘Do it to Julia! Do it to Julia! Not me! Julia! I don’t care what you do to her. Tear her face off, strip her to the bones. Not me! Julia! Not me!’

With this betrayal, Winston’s punishment comes to an abrupt halt, he is released but he is broken. He lives a humdrum existence until the ‘long-hoped-for bullet’ enters his brain.

The torturer’s insights into extreme fear may be more telling than the routine assurances of health professionals. The idea of ‘an instinct which cannot be destroyed’ is untrue, as I will show, but describes how many feel when confronted with the object of their phobia. O’Brien also notes, correctly, that the cause of fear can be trivial and yet unendurable for that individual. He recognises that the fear is so intense that courage and cowardice become irrelevant and says that even people who could endure pain to the point of death will be unable to withstand it. Unlike health professionals, of course, he then goes on to exert just this level of pressure.

Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo is another extreme phobic portrayal. Detective Johnny Ferguson (James Stewart) is chasing a criminal across wet rooftops. He slips and is dangling over an edge, clinging on by his fingertips. A colleague above leans down to him and offers a hand, but Ferguson is dizzy and unable to take it. The colleague loses his balance and falls to his death below.

This is Ferguson’s first inkling of his vertigo and he quits his job with the police force. ‘There’s no losing it,’ Ferguson is assured by his friend, Midge, who says that only another emotional shock will cure him. Rejecting this, he tries out some homespun behaviour therapy of his own, standing first on a stool and looking up and down. All is going well so he tries some higher steps. Unfortunately, he glimpses the street below out of the window and promptly faints. Thus his treatment ends. His vertigo is then assumed so permanent that others can base a murder plot on the certainty that he will not make it to the top of a tower at a crucial moment.

The three very different stories all successfully convey the extent of phobic fear and the individual cost. Ross Jennings, a highly respected doctor, has spent his life dreading spiders and relying on others to kill or remove them. Winston Smith betrays his girlfriend and, in the end, himself, through his fear of rats. Johnny Ferguson gives up a long-held ambition to become Chief of Police when he quits his job and, worse, is unable to save the life of the woman he loves because of his vertigo.

All three carry the fatalistic and depressing message that phobias are as much a part of us as our height or eye colour. It chimes with and may even have shaped the widespread perception that phobias are for life. Sadly, this is often true as we accept limitations on our lives far too readily and only a small proportion of phobias ever receive treatment. But, as this book sets out to show, phobias can be and are being cracked.

12 İz.

Phobias: Fighting the Fear

Bu kitabı arayanlar okuyor