When the Phobia Belongs to Someone You Love

So far this month — in "Fear or Phobia?", "How a Phobia Is Born" and "Inside a Session" — I've written to the person carrying the phobia. This week is for everyone standing beside them — the parent of a child who panics at the dentist, the partner who books the aisle seat every time, the friend who quietly drives the long way round.

Helping is harder than it looks, because the two instincts that come most naturally both tend to backfire.

The first is reassurance by argument. There's nothing to be frightened of. It's perfectly safe. The odds are tiny. All true, all useless — because, as we saw in "How a Phobia Is Born" (10 August), the alarm wasn't installed by logic and doesn't respond to it. Worse, it can leave the frightened person feeling unheard, and rather foolish besides.

The second is rescue. You cancel the appointment. You take the long way. You handle the thing so they don't have to. It comes from love, and it brings immediate relief — which is precisely the problem. Relief is the reward that teaches the brain avoidance was the right call. Do it often enough and the phobia grows a little larger each time, quietly, while everyone is being very kind.

So what does help? Three things, mainly.

Take the distress seriously without taking it on. "I can see this is really hard for you" does more than a hundred reassurances. You're not agreeing the danger is real; you're agreeing the distress is.

Mind what you model. This matters enormously with children. A child watches how the adults in the room respond far more closely than they listen to what those adults say. If you can be visibly calm at the dentist, in the waiting room, on the plane, you're teaching something valuable without a word.

Offer a route out rather than a rescue. "Would you like me to come with you?" keeps them moving forward. "Shall we just cancel?" doesn't.

And if the phobia is well established, you may not be the right person to shift it — which is no failure on your part. A phobia held for twenty years rarely yields to a loving conversation, however well judged. It does often yield to focused work with someone trained in it.

Next week, in the final issue of this series — "The Phobias We Don't Mention" (31 August) — I'll look at the phobias people are most embarrassed to admit to — and why embarrassment keeps far too many people from getting help that works.

If you would like to talk through any of this, my contact details are below.

Warmly Denise