Julie Elise Landry
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Overcoming lifelong lizard-phobia in Louisiana

11/25/2015

49 Comments

 
When I still lived with my phobia of lizards, I could not have read this post because it contains photos that would have disrupted my mental health.

On this other page, I have re-shared the below blog post and removed all photographs. There, anyone still living with lizard phobia can read my story without the visuals.

Picture
I knew I would jump over the railing of a balcony 10 stories high. I knew I would abandon a child in public. I knew if forced to choose, I’d have chosen an amputation. I knew I’d feel more at ease if taken hostage.
​

And while I knew most of those things weren’t true at all, they felt true. They felt possible enough.

I remember one encounter in high school, when my friends and I gathered on a second-floor breezeway at the front of campus after lunch. While I sat on the railings--my feet propped on the bottom rungs and my hands gripping the bars to support the majority of my weight—​I listened to the girls chatting but continuously scanned the area. Outside, my attention always split into two unequal partitions: a small one for people; a larger one for the walls, for the ground, for roofs and trees and bushes and furniture and shutters.

A lizard ran across the concrete breezeway, and my body shifted backwards, my legs and arms throwing me a few degrees closer to the open air--and to the ground probably 10 feet below me.

I don’t remember how I kept from jumping. I don't remember if the other girls noticed, if they chased the lizard away, or if they laughed at me. I don’t remember if the thing disappeared immediately or perched far enough away that I felt secure. But I remember my instinctive reaction to go over the railing rather than interact with a small, harmless pest. I remember how immediately I put myself into harm’s way, remember the complete absence of any cognizant decision. I remember that lurch in my gut and the stretching of my arm muscles as I leaned backwards into actual danger. I remember that fleeting sensation of lightness, of endless dream-falling.
​

Few people ever understood my lizard-phobia (a term far easier to say/type than scoliodentosaurophobia), how it felt, or how it consistently damaged me and my level of comfort in the world. But I remember.

How it felt

I tried to explain it. I used to say, “It’s not an ‘ew, gross, I-don’t-like-that-icky-crawly-thing’ fear. It’s an ‘I’m-alone-in-an-alley-with-a-gun-at-the-back-of-my-head’ fear.”


I’d say, “It’s not that I ‘don’t like’ them, it’s that I’m completely paralyzed by the entire concept of their existence.”

I’d say, “I know they can’t hurt me--that’s never my concern. There’s no concern involved at all. I see one, and I’m done, I’m out. It’s immediate.” When I took a psychology class, I learned the term “fight-or-flight,” and I incorporated it into my scripts.

As a kid, I didn’t know the word “phobia,” and I only learned the term “scoliodentosaurophobia” about two years ago. This lack in my vocabulary crippled me. I could only say, “I’m scared of lizards. I’m really, REALLY scared of lizards,” and those weightless words always provoked the same, unspoken curiosity, the same interest to see my potential reaction.

To this day, when the people I trust most in the world tell me to close my eyes and hold out my hands, I feel intense anxiety and discomfort. Because I know they’re going to drop a lizard into my hands, even though I know they’re not--even though that’s never happened.

In graduate school, I hosted large gatherings almost every weekend. My friends were dear, were loyal, were fun and passionate and overwhelmingly tolerant. And every weekend, I formulated my escape plan should someone decide to catch a gecko and test me. I rehearsed in my head as I’d fall asleep at night, prompting nightmares worse than my conscious imagination could supply.

Because once any person knew about my phobia—and I took great pains to mask it when possible—​that person had complete power and control over me (though I assume few ever considered my position in those specific terms).
How my phobia developed

A traumatic experience with lizards in my mother’s childhood followed her into adulthood. I always knew how scared she was when lizards were around, and in southern Louisiana, they’re always around. She tried not to react in front of me, but the entire problem with phobias is the person’s inability to control that reaction.

When I was four or five—young enough to strip off all my clothes, jump into my uncle’s pool, and nearly drown while the adults were still in the process of greeting each other—my parents took me to Florida on vacation with relatives. At some point during the visit, while my mom was otherwise occupied, my dad’s brother pulled me off into a back room and showed me a plastic iguana.

“I’m going to scare your mom with this,” he said, grinning, letting me in on the joke.

Two things about me: (1) I’ve always been intensely protective of the people I love. (2) I’ve always despised pranks. The idea of mocking a person you value for being naive enough to trust you has always bothered me on a level too intense for words.
The idea of mocking a person you value for being naive enough to trust you has always bothered me on a level too intense for words.
I told my uncle I’d hate him forever if he scared my mom with the iguana. I clenched my tiny fists and leaned forward, trying to make my four-year-old self sound serious.

No one takes advice from four-year-olds.

My mom sat on the living room couch. My aunt was vacuuming. When my aunt pushed the vacuum beneath the couch and pulled it back, the plastic iguana came with it.

My mother screamed, leaping over the couch and running into the adjacent kitchen. I could hear her crying.

I ran after her, screaming, “It’s not real! It’s not real!”

But she was standing on top of the kitchen table, too distraught to hear me. When I turned around, I saw the plastic iguana’s head inching into view. My uncle made it look like the toy had followed her, like it had crawled across the ground and was now looking into the kitchen.

Her hysterical panic paired with his roaring, red-faced laughter made me scream, cry, and run away, too upset and overwhelmed to sort out the confusion.

Every time my mother saw a lizard, even a fake one, her negative reaction was instantaneous. In turn, I learned my own instantaneous, involuntary response.

As I grew older, I became more and more phobic. I couldn’t look at cartoon drawings or say the word “lizard” without feeling intense discomfort. When I found a lizard in my bedroom, I evacuated, sleeping on our couch for over a year and only braving my room long enough to rip clothes from hangers and flee.

At the zoo, after they installed the komodo dragon exhibit, I stood stricken, small, and silent beside the glass enclosure, listening while a voice described the carnivorous habits of the lizards-larger-than-me, creatures I felt should not exist and simply could not exist. I imagined it biting my hand, poisoning me, following me around until I died, then consuming my flesh--as the voice explained was customary for their species.
I imagined it biting my hand, poisoning me, following me around until I died, then consuming my flesh.
Then I entered middle-school.

A long, covered walkway flanked by overgrown bushes and sun-drenched brick walls connected one half of the school campus to the other. Lizards covered those walls year-round. One night, I dreamed that when I was halfway down the corridor, four enormous, blue, adult-sized lizards trapped me—two lizard behemoths in front and two behind, the menacing bushes penning me in on either side—and steadily made their way toward me. 

Unless chaperoned by teachers leading the entire class, I’d always run from one end of the path to the other. And kids notice these things. (Also, at that age, I bet I told some of the other kids in an attempt to seem “unique” or “special.”)

One day after I’d been out sick, my friends told me, “So-and-So was looking for you yesterday! She caught a lizard!” I’d only narrowly escaped my worst fear, or so I thought. Looking back, my friends were probably lying to provoke a reaction. But I learned to be on guard.

My friends also tried to “fix” me, checking out a picture book on lizards from the library. One friend held the book, and I had to stand in front of it with another friend behind me, her hands on my back. The harder I pressed against her hands, the more scared I was, and the longer I’d have to look at that particular photo.
How everyone reacted

People seem to love when seemingly innocuous things bother other people. They love to watch the overreaction, to feel superior because they can withstand a thing that completely incapacitates someone else.

I noticed a trend as I grew older. Once a person learned about my phobia, they often wanted to tell me their “stories,” the times when they had unfortunate or crazy encounters with lizards.

The time he found one in bed, the time one dropped on her head from a tree, the time they found a nest in their closet.

I’d beg them to stop, and in between my pleas, they’d keep rambling. No matter how harsh I made my voice, how intensely I insisted that I’d have nightmares or develop additional neuroses based around their experiences, they’d grin and keep unfolding the horror story.

Worse, if a friend came across a photograph of a lizard that they knew would bother me, they’d often feel compelled to email it to me or post it on my social profiles, usually accompanied by lots of exclamation points and digital laughter and friendly emoticons.

The public references particularly bothered me, considering how genuinely (and absurdly, unnecessarily) concerned I was that someone who disliked me might mail me a lizard corpse at any time if they learned the truth.

A few weeks into the relationship, my first boyfriend asked me, “What would I have to do to make you angry enough to break up with me?”

I said, “Well, cheat on me,” because I didn’t want to lead with my actual first thought, and cheating seemed like an easy red herring. “Or, you know, test my phobia in any way...”
When I finally sought help

At times, my lizard-phobia put me in real danger—​not the perceived, hypothetical danger of realizing I might involuntarily jump to my demise to avoid a lizard, but genuine, reckless jeopardy.

Once, as a college student home for the summer, I drove to the store where my mother worked and parked my car beside some landscaping, too wrapped up in concerns of the moment to realize parking in front of a bush might be a bad idea for me. When I returned, I opened my car door like any normal person (without scanning the surface of my vehicle for threats, like I’d learn to do) and drove off down the road.

As I belted out the lyrics of whatever played on my radio, driving in the right lane, I noticed movement on the hood of my car.

The flick of a green tail. The bending of a wrinkled neck.

I managed to recover from swerving toward the ditch on my right, successfully avoided overcorrecting into the lane of traffic on my left, and somehow navigated into a parking lot without causing a pile-up. I sped to an empty parking space isolated from the other cars, groaning from deep in my throat, breathing rapidly, staring at the lizard rather than the road.

Parked, I let the terror--what I would later recognize as anxiety, not terror—​overwhelm me, staring at the lizard as it stared back at me, not knowing how I would escape this situation.

I couldn’t get out of the car. Even if I got away, I’d be abandoning my vehicle and letting the lizard out of my sight. What if, while I looked away, it got inside my car? What if it crawled its way to the door, preventing me from getting back into the car?

It perched just above my windshield wipers, and I considered turning them on, but I anticipated two possible outcomes: (1) The lizard would speed away onto the roof of my car where, again, I would not be able to keep an eye on it. (2) The windshield wiper would catch the lizard.

But lizards’ bodies aren’t flimsy like insects. Lizards have bones. I imagined the windshield wiper breaking the lizard’s back, pinning it; I imagined its thrashing body as it beat against the windshield, alive and disturbed; I imagined it furious, its mouth red and open and screaming.

Lizards’ movements, the unpredictability of where they might go, always produced the most anxiety in me. Their rapid, lurching, bobbing, slinking bolts for freedom...

With the windshield wipers too risky, my mother incapable of coming to my rescue, and my father at work across the lake, I had only one other option: my grandmother. She came and rescued me, though she added to my distress, attempting to kill the creature in much the way I’d anxiously imagined and losing track of its location in the process.

This happened once more in my life with much the same outcome. Still, the threat of dying in a car wreck didn’t convince me to seek help.
The threat of dying in a car wreck didn't convince me to seek help.
I thought I knew how phobias were cured: immersion. I remembered when my friends tried to cure me, and I’d seen movies and cartoons and reality TV shows where people “faced” their phobias in abrupt ways, similar to quitting smoking cold turkey.

If I wanted to overcome my lizard phobia, I thought I’d have to be tied down in a tub and covered with a sea of reptiles. For someone whose life was crippled by lizard-phobia, who maintained that phobia with a strict regiment of avoidance, not even the promise of living life phobia-free could entice me to agree to the worst-case-scenario of my fear.

When I turned 25, I moved back to New Orleans from Monroe, Louisiana. I loved (and still love) my new job, but as I soon discovered, the office had a small problem.

A small presence, I should say.

Because we’re located with a forest behind us, lizards found their way into the building with some frequency. I’d just started, and I didn’t want my new employers to decide they’d hired a complete lunatic. Unfortunately, I had to confess my phobia, still gulping past the word “lizard” and bumbling to convey the severity of the fear.

After I encountered one in the kitchen, I holed up in my office for weeks, not even using the bathroom during work hours. The organization hired an exterminator in an effort to accommodate me, but oddly enough, no one likes the idea of killing lizards.

I’d spent an exorbitant amount of time over the course of my life researching ways to poison or repel lizards, and a funny thing happens online whenever someone asks for help in this regard.

“Why would you want to KILL the LIZARDS??? They eat bugs!”
“LIZARDS ARE IMPORTANT TO THE ECOSYSTEM!!!”
“Lizards don’t hurt anyone! Just leave them be.”

That’s all fine and fair, and as a general rule, I’d rather not kill anything I can avoid killing. But let us consider the cockroach: a harmless creature, good for the ecosystem, that presents no threat to humanity other than the likelihood of outliving us.

How many exterminators offer cockroach killing services? How many drug stores and grocery stores sell roach spray in cans, right there on the shelves?

For whatever reason, no one’s interested in developing anti-lizard spray. So, I knew when my office hired the exterminator that their best option was to work on killing the lizards’ food source, and that likely, they’d have no real impact at all.

Eventually, as my lizard-brain had already anticipated, a skink found its way into my individual office, its wiggling black-and-blue body entering my last sanctuary and blocking my only exit.

I called across the hall for my superior, and she gave me the opportunity to escape while she and a co-worker wrangled the lizard now hiding behind my desk. I fled into our board room, clawing at the skin on my own arms, pacing back and forth in my anxiety as I drew blood, nails burrowing into flesh.

While I worked to regulate my breathing, I admitted the truth: I couldn’t live like this anymore. I loved my job too much to lose it to this thing, this fear that had humiliated and debased me all my life, making me feel worthless and pathetic and weak.
How I overcame my phobia

After a few abortive attempts to find a psychiatrist or psychologist or therapist that offered appointments during the nights and weekends, determined not to have a weekly “I’m off to lizard therapy!” conversation with anyone, I’d almost given up. Then I discovered single-session phobia treatment.
​
In 1989, Dr. Lars-Göran Öst published “One-session treatment for specific phobias.” (Öst’s OST, if you will!) According to the abstract, mean treatment time during the study was about two hours, and even after four years, 90% of patients were still much improved or had completely recovered from their phobias.

Fortunately for me, the Cognitive Behavioral Therapy Center of New Orleans practices single-session phobia treatment.

I dragged my feet for a while, still unsure even after watching videos of the process. I'd been enjoying the lizards’ winter hibernation.

But summer was coming.


Finally, I emailed the Center and made my appointment for March 20, 2015--the first day of spring.

Ahead of time, I’d scouted the location out with street view on Google Maps. Bushes and metal fences surrounded the place. I tortured myself with daydreams of arriving at my phobia treatment only to have to call the doctor to help me into the building, because a lizard would be by the door, and of how absurdly mortified I would be.

But I forced myself to go. That Friday, I took a personal day off work and drove myself to the Center. The building had two doors: one in the front, with a wooden staircase surrounded by bushes leading up to a porch, and one on the side, with a wooden walkway surrounded by a wooden fence next to a tree. I stalked around the edges of the property, finally determining that the main entrance was the fenced-off side door.

Taking deep breaths, reminding myself how wonderful it would be if I never felt this way again, I pawed at the doorknob on the gate. I knew if I shook the door enough before opening it, I lessened the risk of a lizard surprising me on the other side.

Fortunately, as I opened the gate and appraised the hellish walkway in front of me, nooks and crannies and lizard-topias abounding, the door into the actual building opened and a woman ushered me inside. I hurried, shutting down all my mental faculties as I’d always done in these situations, blurring my vision intentionally because I knew the main risk was in my seeing lizards, not in lizards actually being present.

When I met with the doctor, he walked me through the procedure I’d already researched heavily. We discussed “subjective units of distress,” or SUDs, which I would use to communicate my levels of anxiety. The scale ranged from zero to 100, with 100 being, “I’m so anxious that I have literally had a heart attack and died. You should have taken me to a hospital at around 90.”

Hearing about SUDs reminded me of my middle-school friends gauging my reaction by the force of my retreat. Their methods turned out to be insightful--I just wasn’t ready at age 11.

Before starting the exposure therapy, the doctor asked me to identify my “catastrophic belief,” the worst-case scenario with a lizard, the thing that I worried would happen if a lizard were to touch me.

“I’m not worried that anything will happen. I know nothing will happen,” I said.

He pushed me. I liked this man—​he joked at all the right times, never joked at the wrong times, and he worked to make me feel uncharacteristically comfortable.

After a bit of back and forth, I said, “I just wouldn’t like it. I’d just feel awful, my anxiety would be through the roof, just from it being there.” For me, a lizard’s presence was its own worst-case scenario.

And the doctor smiled, and he said, “So you aren’t afraid of lizards. You’re afraid of being uncomfortable.”

The entire core of my reserved, guarded, suspicious personality made sense. I protect myself from discomfort at all costs, avoiding confrontation, embarrassment, and certainly lizards with the desperation of a fugitive.

Over the course of my therapy, the doctor said something which has been my mantra in the months since: “Let yourself be uncomfortable.”
Let yourself be uncomfortable.
He pointed out that if I allowed myself the discomfort of lizards, I’d confront the transient, impotent nature of discomfort, and eventually not feel that discomfort at all.

The session lasted three hours. The entire concept of OST demands that the patient always be in control. No one would tie me down and dump a bucket of lizards on my head—I had to make the choice to take each next step, though often through the prodding of the doctor.

I progressed from looking at lizards in the wild, to moving closer to lizards in the wild, to tolerating his attempt to catch a lizard.

When he actively tried to catch a lizard and was unable to touch one, unable to get near them due to their fear of him—which I’d always rationally recognized—I felt my SUDs drop dramatically.

We returned to the Center, where he had a small garden lizard already trapped in a La Choy can. We sat on the frightening front porch, and I had to resist my urge to scan and appraise the environment in order to focus on the terror of the can.
Picture
First, I held the can. Then, he opened the can. Then, he held the lizard. Eventually, after a childish amount of vacillation on my part, I managed to touch the lizard’s head.

Despite all my daydreams and nightmares and invented scenarios, I’d never touched or been touched by a lizard.

He asked me if I wanted to name the lizard, and I’d expected the question, but my mind was too distracted to reach for any kind of name.

“I think you’re ready to hold it,” he said, smiling.

I disagreed fervently. “There are a lot more steps, a lot more progressions, between touching it while it’s trapped in your hands, and holding it in mine.”

We discussed our options and eventually agreed to go inside, where we could experiment without risking the lizard escaping back into the wild.

After poking the lizard with a stick (gently, I promise!) so it would move around in the can; after petting it in the can; after it escaped several times and I had to take a break because I’d begun to feel nauseated and dizzy; there finally were no more progressions between me and the end.

We practiced with a pen cap. He held the pen cap between his hands, I held my shaking hands beneath his, and he dropped the pen cap into my palms before I shut them tightly to prevent escape. We practiced a few times.

Though the lizard did escape during our first attempt, the doctor caught it again, and eventually, I sat on the ground with a lizard between my hands.

I sat there disbelieving. Eventually, I admitted, “I can’t feel it in there. I’ve convinced myself it’s not in there at all.”

He asked, “Do you want some help?” and I nodded.

He reached out and shook my hands in the air. The lizard jerked and thrashed against my skin.

Eventually, I was able to shake my hands myself. I began to feel sorry for the lizard, trapped in my sweaty grip, having been scared out of his mind by two humans for the past two-and-a-half hours.

Then, the doctor convinced me we had to take the last step. I set my hands against my thigh and let the lizard go.

He stayed on my jeans for a little while. I held my open palm against the side of my leg, and he crawled into my hand. He perched on my thumb.
“You know how after you say a word over and over again, the word starts to lose all its meaning?” I said, staring at the lizard that I’d provoked into crawling up my arm. “That’s what’s happened. I’m looking at this animal on my arm, and it’s not a ‘lizard,’ it doesn’t have any of the meaning or the significance that ‘lizard’ always had.”

I named him Eric. Eric “sounds green,” to me.

After the doctor took some photos of Eric on my shoulder, we put him back in the can and released him where the doctor found him. When we came back to the Center, I opened the gate and walked confidently toward the door.

A lizard crawled across the frame.

“I’ve never seen one here before,” the doctor said in wonder.

Though I’d spent my life petrified of this situation, unable to rent homes with landscaping or attend backyard parties lest a lizard block an entryway, I walked up to the door. I waited for the lizard to run away from me. And then, I passed through the door to the other side of my life.

The fact that it only took three hours is a credit to the power of the treatment, not an indication that my phobia was really a mild thing in the end.

I’d still be furious if someone dropped a lizard in my hands. I doubt I’ll ever own a bearded dragon as a pet. But the next time a lizard showed up in my office, it didn’t bother me. The next time a friend hosted a largely-outdoors party, I not only joined my friends in the heat—​I leaned against the wall beneath a light fixture.

My whole life, I’ve wanted to explain the severity of phobias, the misery they can cause, and the frustration I felt when people treated my handicap like a silly quirk. But because discussing my phobia would have invited the world to test my phobia, I kept silent.

Now, I can say anything I want, because I know I’ve kicked this.

Phobias aren’t silly; they aren’t jokes; they aren’t easy to overcome.

So, respect and support the people you love who are battling a phobia.

And if you’re living with a phobia, seek treatment. You don’t have to live in fear forever.
49 Comments
Gilda
7/27/2016 05:07:28 pm

You're a braver woman than me!

Reply
Julie Elise Landry link
7/27/2016 05:19:05 pm

Thank you so much for saying something so nice, Gilda! Except I promise it wasn't bravery—I was terrified all the way through! But it was time to free myself, and absolutely worth a few hours of discomfort! You can do this too, if it's something you want! I believe in you :)

Reply
Grannynae
1/9/2019 02:50:44 pm

Nothing I have ever read to describe my intense phobia has come close to what you have described here. I am much older now and have lived my 56 years paralyzed with fear and even reading this made me jump, jerk and scream constantly and it caused me to feel genuinely nauseated. It isn't likely that I will ever overcome it...and it makes me sad and frustrated! To be clear, I don't think I would mind being "uncomfortable" to overcome my phobia because to me, it would be more terrorizing...and that I could not tolerate at all. I have been through counseling and hypnosis to no avail...not even kind of. I love in the desert on a golf course and see them from my windows--oddly, I can look at them from afar and though I am always startled, I can handle seeing them sunning, but when they scurry away, holy cow! I can't deal with how they move and their tails, OMG, I'm freaking out just writing this now!!!! My heart is racing so I am closing. Thank you for this because somehow, I don't feel as alone as I have all my life. I actually believed I was because literally EVERYONE I know or meet thinks my phobia is crazy. I hate it when they say, "they can't hurt you" or "they are more afraid of you than you are of them" - so not true!

Faiso
12/14/2018 06:00:02 pm

Thank you so much for taking the time to write this story and sharing your journey for everyone to be able to read. I recently moved to a country that has geckos and I’m beyond terrified of seeing it in my house. Last night my husband killed one and I don’t know how to be able to walk around my house like I used to.. I have a little daughter that I sometimes worry that if I see these small lizards that I would leave her behind. It sound outrageous and silly to even write it here let alone think about it. I don’t know what to do as this country doesn’t have a specialist for phobias or treatments. Your story was amazing I wish you wrote more on ways to get over ones fear on their own. Thank you thou!!

Reply
L.P.
12/4/2016 09:05:00 am

Thank you so much for sharing your story. I'm terrified of lizards,salamanders,skinks, etc. Living in Florida, I face this problem daily. You perfectly described how it feels and how other people react. In particular, these lines rang so so true:

"People seem to love when seemingly innocuous things bother other people. They love to watch the overreaction, to feel superior because they can withstand a thing that completely incapacitates someone else."

I don't know if I'll be able to overcome my fear as you did, but you've given me hope.

Reply
Julie Elise Landry
12/4/2016 09:12:51 am

L.P. — I believe you can overcome it! It's been over a year for me now, and the other day, I breezed through a lizard encounter that might have driven me entirely out of my house before that 3-hour treatment session.

It's so much harder to address it, when so few people truly comprehend the difficulty and the sincerity of the fear. Feel free to email me if you want a cheerleader! You shouldn't have to live in constant anxiety in a tropical climate like I did, and there's a way to opt out!

Reply
HG
1/20/2017 04:23:23 pm

Thank you for this. I have the same phobia and it was nice to hear someone else describe my irrational fear. I try to explain it but no one understands. So I say "it's like this, if someone put a gun to my head and said touch the lizard or die, I'd say pull the trigger" I'd love to not have this crippling, life altering fear but the idea of a treatment that will have me picking up a lizard is completely unacceptable. I want to get to a point where I can go on vacation in the Caribbean or not crash my car or wake up with nightmares. I applaud your strength.

Reply
Julie Elise Landry
1/20/2017 04:37:38 pm

HG, thank you for reading, and thank you for your kind comment—I assure you, that the idea of this therapy was completely unacceptable to me as well. And I used that same gun metaphor! I even turned down the chance to go to the Caribbean. But because this therapy put me entirely in control, because I could stop any time I wanted, it worked for me. If you ever want to discuss the phobia or your situation with it, please feel free to email me! <3

Reply
Susan
3/18/2017 02:55:51 am

Thanks ive only read the comments i didn't have yhe the courage to look at the pictures
3 weeks ago i came home and saw a huge lizard climbing on the wall in the front of my house
I was mortified
I was with my daughter and grand daughter
When it realised we were there it climbed on top of the roof
It looked like a scene in a horror film
I left home
I came the next day with some family and took as many things as i could and left
After 2.5 weeks i slowly built courage to come-back in the house
Then just when i was getting comfortable and calm
I saw another big one on ly kitchen floor
I ran out of the house
My body feels on edge
Im in my car all day till late at night
This is the first time this happened like this
We are going to move out
I no longer feel comfortable in this house
It has left a really negative feeling
Im in my room now
This is the only place i feel safe
I.feel like a prisoner
Any ideas of what i can do would be appreciated
Im glad to see I'm not y
the only one with this fear...

Reply
Julie Elise Landry
3/18/2017 10:56:37 am

Susan,

Thank you for commenting. I'm going to email you. I want to talk with you—I've been where you are.

I've also created a photo-free version of this post: http://www.julieeliselandry.com/photo-free-overcoming-lizard-phobia.html

I've known I needed a way for people to read this post without photos for a long time, but I couldn't figure out a method of accomplishing it. I figured it out this morning.

As I said, I'm going to email you. But if anyone else winds up in this comments section looking for a photo-free version of the post, here it is again: http://www.julieeliselandry.com/photo-free-overcoming-lizard-phobia.html

Reply
Karen Bland
3/14/2018 10:27:45 am

Hello, I just wanted to tell you that you're not alone. I live in Virginia
and I really want to go to Naples FL in May and I have booked a hotel
there but I'm on the verge of canceling because I'm terrified of lizards.
Please don't feel bad about moving out of your house. There isn't anything that says you have to adjust to the lizards to be normal. I would have nearly died on the spot if I found a lizard in my kitchen. I do hope you feel better and do overcome the fear but don't beat yourself up over it. My thoughts are with you.
Sincerely.

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Ella
5/24/2017 01:55:33 pm

Hi Julie. You're a very brave woman for being able to do that. I'm mostly uncomfortable around lizards, but my main phobia is gecko. I really can't imagine myself holding them. I can't even look at pictures of them without my body reacting with fear.

I live in Indonesia where we have lots of them. This is terrible and I got really terrified when I see them inside my room, or worse in such a small space like the bathroom.

On the last couple of years, I've been living in a big city and my room has air con which makes it less likely for a gecko to want to sneak into my room. However, I'm currently applying for a job that would require me to relocate to a beautiful touristy village, but unfortunately notorious for geckos (not just the small ones, but the giant one which can grow up to 11 inches and has very loud noises, so I'll know for sure they're near me!). I talked to my friends who have been to the village, and read the travel blogs, and the geckos do seem to be everywhere and there's absolutely no way of avoiding them. I can't tell you how terrified I am. But I also know how irrational it would be to turn down a job offer that I would actually love just because of this fear.

However I can just imagine not being able to move around my room because I spot them crawling on the floor, or not being able to take a shower or pee because they're in the bathroom, or opening up my wardrobe and have them crawling on my clothes, or see them on my makeup table. What if I can't sleep at night because I'm afraid they'll crawl into my bed. What if an 11-inch geckos hang out in front of my bedroom? The worse thing is I won't have anyone to help get rid of them :( I am genuinely and properly scared to relocate.

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Julie Elise Landry link
5/24/2017 06:31:04 pm

Ella,

Thank you for leaving your comment and describing your situation. I've been in similar circumstances, and I know how hard everything feels. It sounds like the amount of stress you'd have to endure if you took the new position would make life nearly impossible.

Before you put yourself in a situation where you might feel trapped, see if anyone in your area offers any kind of phobia treatment. I could never, never have pictured myself facing this fear—until I decided to face this fear. And my life is better for it.

If help is unavailable, please prioritize your mental health and emotional stability. Yes, it would be "irrational" to turn down the job, but it's NOT irrational to recognize that a situation isn't comfortable for you. If you feel trapped in your own home, you won't be able to focus on the new job.

Sending lots of love and encouragement your way, and hoping that you find a reasonable compromise that makes you happy.

All the best,
Julie

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Sonia Nihalani
6/15/2017 04:15:48 am

Hi Julie,
I suffer from this very same crippling phobia of lizards. Even it's thought is enough to torture me. But it's unbelievable how you have managed to put it into words so efficiently. Like most people with this phobia, I often fail to make people understand how serious this issue is for me. I've often told people that locking me in a room with a lizard is all I one needs to do to kill me. I'll die of extreme anxiety and stress. The sight of a lizard leads me into uncontrollable running and jumping around, trembling, muscle cramps and crying. Even once the episode is over I keep swaying back and forth trying to get over it.

It's great to hear that it's even possible to treat this phobia.

I would definitely want to take up this treatment. Can u please send me some links about the exact process of this treatment.

Thank you so much for giving a ray of hope to people like us.

Regards,
Sonia

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Julie Elise Landry link
6/15/2017 05:13:38 am

Sonia,

I used to react the same way as you. The nervous, terrified energy would run through me, and make me pace and shake and move back and forth. And I've had nightmares like you described, about being locked in a room with one.

If you're interested in the treatment, this video is the best place to start to get information: https://youtu.be/zKTpecooiec

It shows a woman going through the process of overcoming a snake phobia.

If you have any other questions, just ask! I'm here to be helpful about this however I can!

—JEL

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Sonia Nihalani
6/16/2017 04:47:21 am

Thanks!! Saw the video. It would need a lot of courage to undergo this treatment but better to face it once and for all. It's stressing to live in so much fear of something so insignificant and practically harmless!

Thanks once again!

Vikas
4/6/2018 11:01:50 am

Have you overcome the phobia?
I’m in a real bad spot with this problem from childhood and now when i live alone this has become a nightmare and I’m anxious all the time,cant sleep properly!

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Nam
6/25/2017 08:57:56 am

Julie,

I grew up in India and this post describes my entire life. I currently live in NorCal where I do not see them on a daily basis. However I really enjoy the outdoors and there are some very large scary lizards in the mountains. I gave up my favorite sport, rock climbing after I saw lizards crawling up the walls and more recently I avoid hiking unless I know that the path is wide enough for me to able to spot the lizard from a distance. I have been through nearly all of the situations you've described, some of them with my current husband who is insistent on me getting treatment (for my own sake).
Have you been able to sustain the level of comfort you had right after therapy?

Another question I had was about the origins of your fear. My mother has a phobia similar to what you described. However over time mine seems to get worse and hers better (probably because she still lives in India). Also my sibling doesn't seem to have any fear. How is it you think you were so affected by her phobia? Most folks think there is a specific event in my childhood that may have caused it but I really can't pinpoint any.

Thank you so much for writing this. I have never come across anything like it. It gives me hope that one day I will be able to get past this.

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Julie Elise Landry link
6/25/2017 09:24:42 am

Nam,

I have been able to sustain the same level of comfort. I still notice lizards more than others, and I still do keep some distance, but the reasons have pivoted. Now, when I see a lizard, I'm not anxious. When I avoid them, it's because I want to avoid having a negative experience that might re-activate my phobia—not because I want to avoid *them*. Which may sound like a strange distinction, but I'd bet you and others living with this phobia would understand. At the same time, in certain situations, I find myself seeking out lizards! I'll move toward them, watch them, smile at them, take photographs of them. It's been an odd experience, to be sure.

Regarding the origins of my fear, I'm not sure. I can talk about specific instances that contributed to my fear as it escalated, but I don't have one specific story that *started* the fear. With some phobias—to my non-professional knowledge—there's one specific event that triggered the fear, but others just sort of build up over time. You avoid a thing a little bit, then a little bit more, until you've isolated yourself from it out of fear. (Human minds are a strange and complex thing.)

I'm glad that my story can be helpful to you! Please know that it is possible to overcome this phobia, and I'd bet treatment is accessible in California. You can do it! And then you can go hiking and rock climbing anywhere! =)

—JEL

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Garima
12/29/2017 05:21:54 am

Hi, this is story of my life and it's good to know that I am not alone... I grew up in India too and it's very hard for me to explain folks that how it's a Phobia and not general fear... My email id is garimag@gmail.com please let me know if you feel you can find a cure

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Mae link
7/20/2017 08:20:42 am

Hi, I'm amazed by what you have achieved. I've been facing this fear for almost 15 yrs now, and just a few minutes ago I encountered this baby lizard waiting on my bathroom door and I can't go in! I just feel so scared thinking it would jump on me, now I'm back in my room I hope it's gone in the morning. Lizards just incapacitate me, but thank you for this post, you gave me hope.

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Julie Elise Landry link
7/20/2017 07:09:10 pm

Mae,

I'm sorry you had this experience—I know how debilitating it feels. Just know you're not alone, you're not broken, and you CAN find a way out of the feeling.

Rooting for you,
JEL

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Yamini
1/14/2018 05:22:37 pm

Oh wow! I'm in the same phobia boat as many who have commented here. MAJOR MAJOR fear of house geckos. I feel i will die if im alone with one in an enclosure! Same answer, pull the gun trigger instead of touching a gecko.. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE HELP with any advise to overcome or even reduce this phobia... would love to just respect it as another living creature of the universe but right now can't and wish they would be extinct!

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Jennifer
4/5/2018 04:00:31 pm

Thank you for your post and sharing. I live in Florida and developed a lizard ( still hard to type the word) phobia when I was 4 after one got in our house and ran up my father’s pant leg. Lots of jumping and loud laughter my adults that had come in to visit and let the critter in. I ran and hid, thinking a monster had attacked my father. The fear was then reinforced over time with several more close encounters.
Hearing you describe the hyper vigilance and anxiety so mirrors my own experience, it was very therapeutic and similar to what people experience in Support groups. I am a licensed clinical social worker with undergrad degree in psychology. I have studied phobias and treatment options. I even did hypnosis which helped, but the therapist associated the Geico Gecko with my fear and now I am more tolerant to geckos but not my main fear of the anole lizard.
I am considering going back to the hypnotherapist this summer.
I guess I am at the point where my aversion is so strong that I don’t want treatment that will put me in contact with the actual thing. I too had to scroll past the pictures of you... bravo by the way!
So I guess I am inspired to continue to seek treatment and rid myself of this anxiety about it. Just this year I had to make a change in work space from a Portable where I would regularly have them on my desk, on the floor etc, to a regular office building with other people around. My boss had to get permission from her boss, which was quite embarrassing even though we’re all social workers and I would think they understood. My husband and I recently went to buy plants for the yard and I made him check and recheck everyone before they were put in the car and then I sat with clenched hands the whole time. My house is lizard proof as much as possible with my kids knowing how to check entrance ways and doors for me to NEVER let one in. If that happens, no one rests until it is caught.
Thanks for this outlet that I could share on. And everyone else reading this, know you aren’t alone.

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Julie Elise Landry link
4/5/2018 04:59:22 pm

Jennifer,

I understand completely! The anole was my chief horror, largely due to its movements and prevalence in Louisiana (which I'm sure is replicated in Florida). I've no experience with hypnotherapy, but I can promise you, the one-session treatment I underwent has ABSOLUTELY "held" all these years later. I won't go into the details of my current situation, as I know I'd have been plagued with nightmares just hearing/reading about it, but let me assure you—if my phobia were ever to resurface, it might be under my current circumstances. And I am *still* free of this phobia. Please remember, that with one-session treatment, YOU are in control throughout the entire process. If you want to change your mind, back out, and go home? You can. I know the exposure component can feel insurmountable, but the whole purpose of the treatment is to ease you into a place where it *doesn't* feel insurmountable, so you can face it and move past it.

Whatever path you choose, consider me your cheerleader!! I know how humiliating it feels to accept those special accommodations (though it shouldn't), I know how hard it is when simple household chores are ever more complicated, and I know how much one small accident with entering/exiting a house can wreak emotional havoc.

But I don't live that way anymore, and you *can* move past it.

As I offer to everyone here, please feel free to email me if you want to talk about your situation. I'm by no means an authority or a therapist, but I'm happy to offer support and encouragement! We're not crazy or unique or doomed! =)

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Precious Weathers
4/22/2018 01:56:04 pm

I'm glad I found this. I just started a new job working in a garden center. I LOVE the job but the other day a lizard jumped out of one of the plants. It didn't touch me but I threw the plant . The worst part was when I looked to make sure I wasn't on me I looked down and it was sitting on the ground not moving. It wasn't dead but it didn't run off. I screamed and started crying . Most often customers looked and asked was it a snake. When they realized it wasn't a snake. It was basically funny to everyone except for me. I continued working but in a different area. I am honestly considering putting in my 2 week notice if I can't overcome this fear soon

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Dipti
7/11/2018 01:06:25 pm

Hi Julie

Thank you for sharing your story... it's wonderful to know someone else (and from the comments, a lot of people) share the same phobia as me. And you are so right in people not understanding it.
In my case, I believe I know what triggered it.
As a child, living in India, I was always scared of all creepy crawlies. One time in the middle of the night I got stuck in the bathroom with a huge white and nearly transparent skinned lizard sitting just near the lock on the door. I filled up a tub with water and stood in the water thinking it would not come near the water. I spent over 3 hours in the bathroom standing in water and staring at the lizard until the creature decided to move away from the door, giving me a chance to escape. I ran to my bed and must have spent another hour crying. It was after this incident that my fear turned to a phobia where I can't even look at a pic of a lizard without my heart rate increasing.
I now live in the Middle East and tonight for the first time in the 8 years I have lived in this country, I saw a lizard... a baby one.. just inside my main door. With the help of my 4-year-old I managed to spray it with bugspray and push it out through the door. But it brought all the old fears back and now I'm in bed after checking and double checking every wall and ceiling in my house.
Your story gives me hope. Though I must admit I was kind of hoping for some hypnosis treatment where I would just fall asleep and wake up cured and not have to look at, let alone touch, the vile things.

Thanks again and kudos to you!

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Saras
7/26/2018 08:02:40 am

I'm reading this as I runaway from my home because I saw a gecko crawling on the side of my bed. I screamed for help, my housemates came up to my room, but didn't do anything enough to convince me that the gecko's gone. They know I'm scared of geckos, but this event made me realize that they don't have the clear idea how terrified I am of geckos. It's not their fault, but somehow I'm mad.

P.S. sleeping in my office, don't know what to do tomorrow...

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Federica
8/2/2018 01:24:48 pm

Hi Julie, thank you for sharing your story :)
For the first time in years I felt that I finally found someone I could relate to... I am not alone!! I've lived with a terrible phobia of lizards all my life and, unlike you, I really have no idea why I am so terrified. I wish I had an explanation that could at least help me to find a root to this issue.
I am from northern Italy, and my summers have always been a struggle, trying to avoid the outdoors as much as I could unless I was absolutely sure they were lizard-free. I moved to London 10 years ago, and during all this time I distanced myself from lizards naturally.. there's no such thing as a free lizard in London!
But things are going to change soon...
I accepted a new, exciting job in Florida, and I will move there in 1 month. I will be living in West Palm Beach and I visited the area 1 month ago to check it out... I knew that lizards were common in Florida but I was overwhelmed by the quantity. Nonetheless, I am firmly determined to fight this fear with all my means. Once I came back I asked my work colleagues and my flatmate to print out pictures of lizards and I had to stick them around my flat and my workplace. I have now started to watch videos, mainly educational videos, that I find extremely helpful. I found a great Youtube Channel called Brave Wilderness and I am absolutely in love with it. I also started to watch videos of lizards' owners where they explain how they take care of their animals. I have to be honest, it is slowly changing my perception of these animals, as now I know so much more about them. I am working on changing my perspective in order to fight discomfort. The next step will be to go to a pet store next week and to walk around the aisles: I am not sure I can face the idea of touching a lizard just yet, but that is my goal. I have decided that I am not going my fear of discomfort to stop me from living my life and travel to all those beautiful places where I would like to go. I find extremely inspiring to read stories of people like you and some of your readers who are not afraid to put their experiences out there, and I also find incredibly reassuring to listen and to watch videos of people who LOVE lizards. At the beginning of the week it took me 1 entire afternoon to just click on the link of 1 video and now I literally jump from 1 video to the next (sometimes with discomfort, but I do my best to keep on looking). Important to say I always pick educational videos, videos that I know will not "scare" me. I don't know how it will be once I will be living in Florida... I know that the first few months will be a great struggle... but I am determined to go to the Everglades and perhaps also have a tour with one of their official guides to find some lizards. Also, I realised that constant exposure help so much: I try to watch lizard videos at least once a day now, to become used to it. Thank you again so much for sharing your story, I hope you're well and that your phobia is still under control :)

Federica

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Ashley Kazarian
8/9/2018 09:10:41 pm

Thank you so much for sharing your story! I came across it looking up how to fix my “crippling lizard fear”! I am not joking when I say reading this I had to remind myself that I wasn’t the one writing it. I can never explain how serious my phobia is to anyone without fear that they will present a lizard to me! You have given me hope that it is possible to leave my house without running down my steps in order to not see a lizard or to be able to go somewhere that has even a few bushes and not have an infant fear that I will happen to see what I call my “nemesis” I can’t thank you enough for sharing your story! I feel so ready to find a center around head that can help me! Thank you!

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Julie Elise Landry link
8/9/2018 09:20:50 pm

To everyone who has commented and continued to comment: thank you.

I am beyond amazed at how many people all over the WORLD have experienced this phobia—and in such similar ways! Your stories touch me, and you should all know, that I am still legitimately COMFORTABLE with lizards after seeking the single-session phobia treatment. My boyfriend and I are even dreaming about owning an axolotl one day! (An aquatic lizard—do not look up photos if you have a lizard phobia.)

I never thought it would be possible that I could "escape" this fear, but all these years later, I'm still celebrating the fact that I can engage with the outdoors without the terror I used to face.

I've been bad about responding to everyone individually, but please know I am always here to listen. If you are interested in the treatment, or if you are about to go through the treatment, I am happy to be a part of your support network!

We are not alone; we are not crazy; and we CAN feel better. I believe in you!

—JEL

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Rubaina
9/5/2018 02:33:44 am

Hi Julie,

I can't tell you how relatable your story is to mine. I Googled how to deal with lizard phobias and landed on your page! I recently found a lizard in my bedroom and have been sleeping with my mom since then. I always have this fear in my heart, even when I'm at home. This is affecting my everyday life. Could you please suggest me some treatment that doesn't involve interacting with the lizard because even the thought of it sends chills to my nerves.

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Naomi
9/20/2018 02:42:57 pm

I have goosebumps. I can’t believe someone else has gone through what I go through daily! I say the exact thing. It’s paralizing. I do the same thing with exterior doors. I shake them before I open them. I can’t handle it. You are exactly right about when people know you are afraid of them, it’s like they can’t help themselves but to have you prove it. I want to be free from this but I can’t even fathom being near a gecko.

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Yogesh
9/22/2018 09:45:28 am

Thank you very much Julie. Until reading this article I didn't believe that someone else could have the same reactions as I do when I see a lizard. I just can't tolerate the presence of lizards. And ny story is almost identical to yours including the childhood egwana incident - difference is that I have still not conquored this fear! I am 38 years old and live in India. Latetl I had to relocate to a different city in India and renting aprtmentap is quite a challenge due to this phobias. I would be glad to talk to you sometime. And yes I shall try to seek medical advise although I doubt if any psychiatrist here would take my probelm seriously.

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Madeenah
4/17/2019 09:25:57 am

Hi, Julie. Reading ur article and it almost sounded like I wrote it. I have a general fear of lizards but my main phobia is the skink. Today is the first time I'm looking at pictures of lizards (skink especially)up close and not cringing (even if it's only on the screen) I grew up not liking them so I can't trace my phobia to a particular period but I remember the experience that ingrained this fear of skink in the very core of my being. Recently we moved to an area where there's a lot of bush all around so I can't avoid seeing them cos they're everywhere. I would notice them from miles away, almost like i was sniffing them out. After so much exposure to them (skink) I became constantly anxious, then depressed that I eventually had a nervous breakdown n was seriously contemplating suicide. This would sound pathetic to anyone so I couldn't talk about it except to my husband who saw me in that moment and I was telling him to just let me die cos I couldn't take it anymore; so we sought help. At the clinic, i was mostly being treated for depression so i was put on some anti-depressant which i've been on for about a year now. When i spoke to the psychologist about my phobia, she talked to me about exposing myself even more to it and to try and change my negative perception of them. I'm trying to, but the moment I saw another one I become weak in my resolve to face my phobia head on. But i know i can't keep living with this fear; it's affecting my mental health and i know its going to affect my kids either directly or indirectly and that is why i've resolved never to give up the hope of overcoming this phobia. I doubt there's any kind of treatment for it here in Nigeria and that's why i decided to research everything i can find about skinks and just start from there. I actually just found out the english name today; I'm from Nigeria and only knew its native name. And today, i've been able to look at them closely enough (on my phone screen) for long enough. Maybe I might be able to overcome this? I pray it happens someday soon

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Beaulah Sahana
9/8/2020 12:52:53 pm

Hi Madeenah, I cannot tell you how much I can relate to your story. I'm from India, and I don't know what a skink is (and I'm scared to Google it, but I think it's a kind of a lizard) but I'm terrified of lizards. Yes, I have considered suicide because of this extreme fear too, and it sounded so crazy and stupid even to me. But, living with lizards around is a living hell for me. I wish i was stronger, i wish i didn't have to live like this. But reading about all your stories makes me feel understood and somehow, cared for. And i want you to know that though we're all continents away, we're always connected and in this together. Much love ❤️

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Madeenah
4/17/2019 11:49:41 am

I want to add that i'm so happy to have stumbled upon this page today. Thank u so much, Julie for writing this article and to everyone else who shared their experience, and helping me realise I'm not alone in this struggle and that I'm not crazy, weird, "different"or weak for having such a phobia.

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Sherelle
6/4/2019 12:11:58 pm

I found your story and tears came to my eyes because I felt like I was reading about myself. I didn’t think anyone else experienced the fear of lizards in a way that I do. But even in reading your story, I couldn’t bring myself to even LOOK at the photos of the lizards...and when you got to the point of touching one...or even holding it in the jar...I was saying to myself that there is NO hope for me because I could never do that. I know that is the phobia talking...but still. I want to seek treatment so bad because I know I am not living my life to the fullest because of it. Thank you for sharing your story...you are a brave woman.
Also...I’m a NOLA girl too ⚜️

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Julie Elise Landry link
6/4/2019 05:47:50 pm

Sherelle,

There is ABSOLUTELY hope for you. It's hard, it's so hard, but you *can* do it—especially with the help of the folks over at the Cognitive Behavioral Therapy Center on Magazine. Here is their website: http://cbtnola.com/psychotherapy/phobia/

I was terrified when I went there. You know that I was. But the session was unimaginably helpful. I LIKE looking at iguanas now. That is how far I've come. And I know you must be dreading the New Orleans summer as much as I always did. <3 (I still don't like when they get in the house, but the paralyzing fear isn't railroading my sanity anymore.)

I'm going to email you this comment, to make sure you see it. I completely understand if you aren't in a place where you can pursue treatment—I wouldn't have been ready even a few months earlier. You have to take your own time and go at your own pace. That's the whole point.

We are *amazingly* not-alone. There are people suffering with this phobia worldwide. But in our NOLA backyard, and plenty other places, there's help to be had.

I'm in your corner.
—JEL

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Mani link
7/1/2019 06:50:20 pm

Julie, I am so grateful to read your post as it resonates with me completely, I am petrified of lizards from childhood it. I moved from India to Singapore and lived with this phobia throughout. Then lucky for me I moved to Canada and never saw them so totally forgot about my fear. However, as luck would have it I moved to Texas and the old fear has returned in full force.
I love gardening but can’t step into my garden without someone with me. I am petrified if I happen to see one anywhere. My biggest fear is what you described- seeing one inside the car when I am driving!
I desperately need help and so good to hear that there’s light at the End of this gory tunnel. You are inspiring. Thank you.

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Sonali
10/6/2019 08:46:45 pm

Amazing article! I loved it.

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Bagz
10/6/2019 11:23:27 pm

Thank you for this article. I don't have a lizard phobia - that is I do try to avoid them and am not very happy if they are roaming near me, but I don't feel serious anxiety when I see one. However, I do have a phobia for spiders and similar many-legged insects - they render me paralyzed with fear. After reading your article, I have newfound hope that there might be a way to get rid of this phobia!

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Amanda
3/24/2020 04:46:38 pm

Fellow Louisiana gal here. I couldn’t even read this story with out my heart beating harder and my breaths shorter. Your phobia sounds much more intense than mine and I don’t think I could hold a lizard after 3 hours. The phobia gets much worse when it comes to skinks, MUCH worse! Panic attack level. When we bought our home, it’s like the grounds were infested. I wasn’t sure if it was the in ground pool or the landscaping. I had my husband remove every piece of mulch, all landscaping timbers and all bushes from around my house. I laid out traps, I researched, I’ve prayed...they still terrorize me. I absolutely hate the fear/phobia. Especially living where we live. As you stated, they’re everywhere. The little geckos like to get inside too. I would love to garden and have beautiful landscaping but the slithery little dinosaurs and snakes with legs...they keep me away 😭

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Donna
6/20/2020 06:39:21 pm

Your story gives me hope. I just moved to Texas from the northeast. I am not use to lizards. We bought a nice home with a front and back porch. I couldn’t wait to enjoy them. Instead I see geckos crawling around. They are even in the doors when I open them. One got inside and I was petrified. I eventually got him out since he was afraid if my dog and ran out when I opened the door. I’m afraid to leave my house after dusk. I’m afraid to come home at night too because I may have to walk by then and they might get into the house. I feel trapped in my home from dusk to dawn because of them. And I wake up at night looking around the ceilings to make sure there isn’t one in my room. This is an awful way to live.

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Julie Elise Landry
7/15/2020 08:51:11 am

Because I haven't been responding directly to everyone, I want to let you all know that I read EVERY COMMENT on this blog—I just don't always know how to provide individualized advice and comfort without it sounding like I'm a robot repeating myself.

Almost five years later, I am still phobia-free. I cannot recommend CBT single-session treatment strongly enough for anyone who can manage to access/afford it.

For the rest... Know you are not alone. Know that I understand how you feel. Know that people WORLDWIDE understand how you feel.

Phobias like this impact our lives daily and interfere with our abilities to feel happy, safe, comfortable. We do the best that we can, and we are here to support everyone! I believe in you and your strength!

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Erica R link
1/2/2021 10:28:13 am

Thannks for a great read

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Tanu
2/11/2021 05:32:00 am

Hi, I came across your story while searching for ideas that could help me with my lizard phobia. I had a lizard fall on my head as a child while I was opening a door. I'm 37 now & haven't been able to forget that unpleasant and awful incident which created a hell lot of fear inside me. I'm even petrified of a lizard which I know is dead and won't be able to harm me in any way. Everyone loves summers and I hate them for the only reason that i'll have to bear the sight of these awful creatures. I hate myself for being so weak and am often an object of mockery & ridicule between family & friends because of my phobia. Seeking therapy is mostly viewed as a sign of mental weakness in this part of the world esp for something like the fear of lizard ! I'm alone in my fight to overcome this phobia because I don't want it to affect my wellbeing throughout my life.

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Zoya
6/8/2022 08:42:22 am

What you felt regarding lizards, is me in a nutshell. However, when I was reading the part where the lizard was in the open can and then in your hands, I felt very nauseous and my hair stood on end.
The funny thing is that I have no issues holding snakes, rats or other 'creepy' creatures. I would love to find some therapy for this, I live in NJ, USA to help me, as I refuse to even visit a state where there may be lizards, like Florida and Arizona :(

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temujin
11/8/2022 09:55:09 am

Lord have mercy. This nightmarish phobia will be the death of me. I have cancelled vacations because I saw a lizard crossing a road. I asked my husband to carry me on his back from the car to the house because our host casually asked us to not keep the door open just in case a lizard gets in. I moved the bed to the middle of the room so that no lizard can get to me from the wall. I was India recently. I held my pee in for hours because there was a lizard outside the bathroom. I get ridiculed by AIRbnb host for asking if there have seen a lizard in their home. I am sick and tired of nervously scanning a room for a lizard. This phobia is so bad, I cancelled my beloved Bronx botanical garden membership because I saw a lizard dart across the path. I absolutely loved that place.

I am so grateful to you for capturing our fear so beautifully through your writing. As others have pointed out, you are brave. I think I would seriously pass out if I even tried coming close to a lizard, Their pointy tail, their bumpy skin, that sudden movement...arghhh....I am getting goosebumps just writing this. I really hope one day I will muster enough courage to face this fear and walk down a similar path of recovery. I wish you the best.

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    Julie Landry

    n. (1) A New Orleans native. (2) One who adores musicals and violent horror movies. 
    v. (1) to overthink

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