Childhood Fears...

She was a grown ass woman and still couldn't sleep with her closet door open. 

Before she turned out the lights in her bedroom she had to make sure the closet door was closed. Tightly. No cracks. No gaps. If she could figure out a way to weather strip it without it getting snagged along the carpet she would. Airtight. That would be best. 

And if she somehow forgot to turn out the light inside the closet before shutting it up and turning off the bedroom light? There would be no sleep that night. She couldn't just turn on her bedroom light, open the closet door and shut off the light. She would instead lie in her bed paralyzed with fear. Convinced she had turned off the light, she ALWAYS turned off the light after all, and that there was something in there ready to pop out. 

When she was a teenager she stopped going on sleepovers because it was too embarrassing to admit to people that she needed that door shut before they turned out the lights.

As an adult she had ended relationships with people who didn't understand that the closet door being shut was a nonnegotiable. Including one very public break up when the man she had been dating for a few months thought her fear of an open closet door was a hilarious anecdote to share at a dinner party. She had gotten up from the table and told him he could find someplace else to sleep that night and every other night. Then she had left.

She might be afraid of an open closet door but she was not afraid to stand up for herself. And as she explained to a girlfriend when she shared the story, it wasn't about the closet door at that point, it was about him mocking her fears. It didn't matter if her fear didn't make sense to him, it still wasn't a joke to tell at parties. 

Once in her twenties she was visiting a friend who lived in an old Victorian style house. She had apologized profusely that there was no closet in her guest room. None of the rooms had closets. She had been acquiring armoires for each space but the guest room still didn't have one. It was the best night's sleep she could ever remember having. 

If she ever bought a house she thought it would be a Victorian like that. No closets would end up being a selling point for her. But for now she was a renter and every apartment had closets. Including the one she was in now. A giant walk in closet. 

A friend who knew her phobia suggested turing the closet into a dressing room space. Take the door off completely. Put a small dressing table in there instead of clothes. If she could think of it as a different space maybe that would be better? Like her Victorian dream house. But she knew it would still be a closet. You couldn't just unmake a closet. 

It wasn't rational. She knew that. It was a room like any other room in her apartment. Or even less of a room really. No windows. Just the one door. One overhead light. That she always turned off before she shut the door. Always. 

But no matter how much she told herself it was a silly fear she still was terrified. 

Lying in bed. Seeing the light through the crack around the door. Listening to the soft knocking.