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Fast forward...at 24 (future untitled phobia):
Jillian glanced around at the clutter in the small spare bedroom she called her office. To her dismay, it was getting beyond her ability to find things again, and she would need to set aside time to go through everything and either file for future reference, or file for the recycling bin. As adept that she was for anything electronically stored, she had no such ability for the actual paper trails. She spent her first couple years of her adult working life in many offices; going from one assignment to another perfecting her ability to manage other people's and eventually corporate lives. For some reason though, it never took hold for her own life. She always felt out of touch slightly with reality. Continually having to make apologies for missing an acquaintances birthday, party, and such. Perhaps that was more by subconscious design than by absent minded accident though.
For as long as Jillian could remember, she had never felt comfortable in front of as well as in crowds of people. She never felt she belonged anywhere she tried to fit in. Junior high and high school were pure emotional hell for her, besides the part caused by traumatic events. Even with all of the different clicks there are to be found in school, from the preps and jocks to the nerds and hoodlums, she could not find one niche that she felt she belonged to. Instead she learned to become a chameleon and quietly blend in wherever she found herself at the moment.
Adulthood proved to be just as bad, yet with fewer emotions. After puberty, she learned to shut down some of her emotions and just float, as she calls it, from one performance to another. One moment she would be the confident secretary who swiftly handled all office crisis with ease, and then in the next the happy go lucky girl out with the office girlfriends wooting it up at the local after hours watering hole, while all the time she just wanted to run and hold up somewhere with her back to the wall, alone.
Her sensitivity to others emotions and thoughts would constantly barrage her, and shutting those incoming missiles was a constant strain on her mentally. She once tried the professional route to 'fix' her problem, without the mention of possibly being empathic, but it was to no avail. Psycho versus psyche; two subjects that do not go together. She ended up seeing a psychologist who looked like a reject out of a bad 70's flashback. His idea of coming to the office professionally dressed was to rebel completely against the idea. She could tell that he was a back sleeper, as his tightly curled coal black, bushy like Jeff Lynn, hair was just that everywhere but in the back. The short beard he wore was kept in the same disturbed manor; sometimes it even contained the last thing he may have been snacking on as well. He wore dark rimmed glasses that were slightly larger than his face. Faded tee shirts and shorts were his normal business suit, only to be outdone by the knee high socks and sandals that he wore to accompany it.
This smartly and professionally dressed psychologist diagnosed Jillian with a fear of success, social phobia, and anxiety disorder. He prescribed a so called 'mild' medication for anxiety attacks, and did nothing but constantly ask Jillian why she thought she felt that way. The medication made her loopy, so she wouldn't take it, and the questions weren't getting her any answers, so the sessions lasted for only about a month.
To Jillian, the term fear of success just made absolutely no sense what so ever to her. To date in her life, everything she has ever set out to do, she has completed to some degree of success. She did well in school, then became constantly employed working with a temporary placement agency; never missing a week of work because she was well know as a quick learner and very good at the new skills she acquired. Even when she decided to work for herself, at the early age of 22 and few years under her belt, but many jobs, she had become comfortably successful at it. Not to say she was wealthy from it, but comfortably was more the bills got paid and she had a little to put back each month. So the term fear of success was ridiculous to her.
Her social phobia was a different animal. That was something she could have put an answer as to where it may have stemmed from; if the answer didn't make her sound delusional that is. Jillian just knew that if she had told the psychologist that she felt that the phobia came from when she was younger and had Haptophobia, or the fear of touch, and she learned, while being held in some alternate reality, that only the touch from those who had no innate magical essence within them would hurt her, he would have locked her up in the psych ward immediately. Alternate realities, magic, the Skywalker premise of the evil father trying to draw her to the 'dark side', things like that don't go over well in the real world where magic isn't seen as real...
This one:
Current phobia project:
Jillian glanced around at the clutter in the small spare bedroom she called her office. To her dismay, it was getting beyond her ability to find things again, and she would need to set aside time to go through everything and either file for future reference, or file for the recycling bin. As adept that she was for anything electronically stored, she had no such ability for the actual paper trails. She spent her first couple years of her adult working life in many offices; going from one assignment to another perfecting her ability to manage other people's and eventually corporate lives. For some reason though, it never took hold for her own life. She always felt out of touch slightly with reality. Continually having to make apologies for missing an acquaintances birthday, party, and such. Perhaps that was more by subconscious design than by absent minded accident though.
For as long as Jillian could remember, she had never felt comfortable in front of as well as in crowds of people. She never felt she belonged anywhere she tried to fit in. Junior high and high school were pure emotional hell for her, besides the part caused by traumatic events. Even with all of the different clicks there are to be found in school, from the preps and jocks to the nerds and hoodlums, she could not find one niche that she felt she belonged to. Instead she learned to become a chameleon and quietly blend in wherever she found herself at the moment.
Adulthood proved to be just as bad, yet with fewer emotions. After puberty, she learned to shut down some of her emotions and just float, as she calls it, from one performance to another. One moment she would be the confident secretary who swiftly handled all office crisis with ease, and then in the next the happy go lucky girl out with the office girlfriends wooting it up at the local after hours watering hole, while all the time she just wanted to run and hold up somewhere with her back to the wall, alone.
Her sensitivity to others emotions and thoughts would constantly barrage her, and shutting those incoming missiles was a constant strain on her mentally. She once tried the professional route to 'fix' her problem, without the mention of possibly being empathic, but it was to no avail. Psycho versus psyche; two subjects that do not go together. She ended up seeing a psychologist who looked like a reject out of a bad 70's flashback. His idea of coming to the office professionally dressed was to rebel completely against the idea. She could tell that he was a back sleeper, as his tightly curled coal black, bushy like Jeff Lynn, hair was just that everywhere but in the back. The short beard he wore was kept in the same disturbed manor; sometimes it even contained the last thing he may have been snacking on as well. He wore dark rimmed glasses that were slightly larger than his face. Faded tee shirts and shorts were his normal business suit, only to be outdone by the knee high socks and sandals that he wore to accompany it.
This smartly and professionally dressed psychologist diagnosed Jillian with a fear of success, social phobia, and anxiety disorder. He prescribed a so called 'mild' medication for anxiety attacks, and did nothing but constantly ask Jillian why she thought she felt that way. The medication made her loopy, so she wouldn't take it, and the questions weren't getting her any answers, so the sessions lasted for only about a month.
To Jillian, the term fear of success just made absolutely no sense what so ever to her. To date in her life, everything she has ever set out to do, she has completed to some degree of success. She did well in school, then became constantly employed working with a temporary placement agency; never missing a week of work because she was well know as a quick learner and very good at the new skills she acquired. Even when she decided to work for herself, at the early age of 22 and few years under her belt, but many jobs, she had become comfortably successful at it. Not to say she was wealthy from it, but comfortably was more the bills got paid and she had a little to put back each month. So the term fear of success was ridiculous to her.
Her social phobia was a different animal. That was something she could have put an answer as to where it may have stemmed from; if the answer didn't make her sound delusional that is. Jillian just knew that if she had told the psychologist that she felt that the phobia came from when she was younger and had Haptophobia, or the fear of touch, and she learned, while being held in some alternate reality, that only the touch from those who had no innate magical essence within them would hurt her, he would have locked her up in the psych ward immediately. Alternate realities, magic, the Skywalker premise of the evil father trying to draw her to the 'dark side', things like that don't go over well in the real world where magic isn't seen as real...
This one:
Current phobia project:
creative