Apiphobia and Alcoholics Anonymous

The smell of spring is in the air. What does that mean to me? The fear of summer soon lurks around the corner. What does that mean in general? Bees. Now, I went over to Bossy Britches, who inspired me to write this post. If you all haven’t visited this unique blog, you should take a gander. It revolves around bees. What does this mean for me? I will still read it, but with EpiPen in hand.

Here’s the deal… I have manias. I have so many phobias and disorders to make your head spin. I’m okay with it, I just need a little help now and then. Meds come in handy, and alcohol comes in daily.

I know, you’re thinking to yourself that I am allergic to bee stings. No. Not to my knowledge. See, the mere thought of one of these ugly creatures inserting their stinger in me makes me cringe and fear for my life. You hear about these people who have never been allergic to bees all their life—until one day, one particular bee gives them that ‘deadly sting’. They blow up like a fricken tick and die. Yes, die in some cases. If you have EpiPen handy, at least you get a fifteen minute head start to the emergency room. Ah summertime. It feels so good to even write it. The warm breezes, the sultry air, the hot sun making your skin feel nice and warm and laying out by the poolside drinking a pina colada. What’s better than that? For me? Summer nights. Summer nights mean no bees are out. That’s when I come out. I hardly sit outside by my pool, because they all swarm near me. And no—I do not have a bee problem at my house. It’s just ‘me’…I swear. When my friends or my sisters come over the house, they all gather around the pool and relax. Not ONE bee crosses their path. As soon as I make my way outside to join them, I am covered with them.

Conclusion? My name is “Debra”. What does that mean? “Debra” means “queen bee”. I am not lying to you. I seriously think there’s something to this theory. Here’s the funny part about it, these bees that swarm around me never, ever sting me. They just want to sit on me and relax. Yes, at night I do wear perfumes and hairspray, but during the day if I am going to be sunbathing, I take a shower & wash my hair. They still flock to me. It never fails. Then I end up running away from them like a fricken mental patient. People laugh at me.

Quick story… I was working for the phone company a few years back in their call center. The company wanted me to ride with one of their technicians, so I can see the technicalities that go into installing phone line. Fine. Whatever. It gets me out of that awful cubical and into the fresh air. I was happy about this. The day was perfect. It was 80 degrees, sunny and not a cloud in the sky. Problem? A bee flew into the window of the utility van that we were driving in. I started screaming and swatting my hands in the air. I told to the technician to stop the van. He did. I ran outside so fast, and that bee was still following me—I kid you not. The technician looked at me as though I had severe mental problems. Well…yeah, but we won’t say anything.

Second quick story…I went to a winery with my mother and sister one Sunday afternoon. It was close to 85 degrees—again it was bright and sunny with no clouds to be seen. They had this pavilion outside full of tables and chairs. In the front, they had people stomping grapes with their bare feet for fun. It was a contest to see who can make more grape juice. It was cute; mostly kids were participating. I was enjoying myself and the wine--very much. We had fun…until I saw the swarm. There were a million yellow jackets surrounding the garbage cans which surrounded each side of the pavilion. Great. I’m going to need a beekeeper’s suit to get the hell outa’ here! I started to panic. I knew they would detect me. Their radars would soon find me and then make their attack. I gulped my wine faster and asked my mother and sister if they would like to take a tour inside the winery itself to see how it’s made. Oh no. They wanted to sit outside and enjoy the show. I had to confess and let them know that I was having a severe anxiety attack, and that I would wait for them inside. I ran... I ran fast. I stayed inside for an hour by myself sipping wines---and not spitting them out. (For those that aren’t familiar with wine tasting—you “should” spit out the wine when you're tasting; or you’ll get hammered of course.)

Hammered, plastered, ossified, intoxicated, piss-ass drunk, three sheets to the wind---they had to carry me out. My mother wasn’t so stable herself. She was hysterically laughing at me; more about my fear of bees than my blood levels. I even bumped into Jeff Daniels (the actor) who advised me to try the Riesling. I told him it tastes like 7Up and walked away—not recognizing him due to my inability to comprehend anything that was going on around me. And, he’s one of my favorite actors. How could I not recognize him?

Do I blame this on my fear of bees? Or do I simply call AA ASAP? Hard call. I guess for the meantime, I’ll have to place the blame on my apiphobia.

“A Prayer Away From Healing” is a book I just published. It’s a Christian-based inspirational book about my life and how God helped me through certain trials. It deals with break ups, forgiveness, relationships, anxiety, depression, self-esteem issues and how to love others unconditionally. It shows that even though we will never be perfect; God’s love for us will always be. It focuses on not judging others; to let God be the only judge. To get an e-book or a hard cover, please visit this site, go to the online bookstore and type in, “A Prayer Away From Healing” to get your copy!