My name is The Pumping Mama, and I have a phone problem.
It’s basically a ridiculously irrational fear of using the telephone. I used to be good at it, I’d get in from school and then spend hours on the phone to my best mate whilst absentmindedly picking the wallpaper in the hallway. (Remember when phones weren’t cordless?)
Then I stopped contact with my Dad, so wouldn’t answer the phone at home, in case it was him calling to speak to my brother or sister. The sound of the phone ringing would fill me with anxiety and panic. This went on for many years, and fast forward to now (a good 15 years later) and I rarely use the phone.
I’m better if its me doing the calling. I can decide when I’m ready, make notes of the things I need to say, make my excuses and hang up if I start to freak out. I can manage work calls, its almost as though its not really ‘me’ answering the phone. But I am getting better at answering it randomly. Today I even answered a call from a private number. Go me.
Isn’t it funny how things from way back, over a decade ago, can affect you for so long? Childhood events absolutely shape the person that you become. I’ve just got to try not to fuck Moo up too much.