Blattella asahinai

I find phobias fascinating - the psychology of the condition; the fact that it can be all-consuming, uncontrollable, and evoke such extreme feelings of terror and dread, even when the perceived threats are not real. It's also interesting how certain phobias can be overcome, while others cannot.

I may be setting myself up for the worst unfunny practical joke from my meanest enemy, but I will entrust you with this: The one thing that instills the greatest fear and panic in me, above all else in this world,...which may make me pause if I had to choose between rescuing my loved ones from uncertain death and facing this nemesis, is...the dreaded cucaracha. I harbor such an intense abhorrence for this species that even writing the word in my first language makes me shudder.

While I'm pleased to have successfully overcome other phobias by facing them head-on -- E.G., conquered my fear of heights (acrophobia) at age 16 by "bravely" climbing 668 steps to the Eiffel Tower's 2nd observation deck via metal stairs that vibrated with every step and gust of wind (okay, to impress a cute boy, but hey, it worked); and triumphed over claustrophobia after a summer of studying bats in narrow and low-ceilinged lava tube caves -- my distress over "le crancelat" (in French) lingers.

I trace the original trauma back to my childhood, when I was a mere 6-year old, rinsing dishes on my tip toes at the kitchen sink. When I sensed someone...or something...watching me from across the room, I spun around just in time to see the brown 3-inch long-legged winged menace dashing towards me. It (brace yourself) made it half way up my exposed leg before my screams and violent flailing made it drop to the floor. I honestly can't remember what happened immediately afterwards, which I attribute to shock, but my next conscious moment found me curled up in my upstairs bedroom floor, crying and rocking.

I've come face-to-face with this adversary many times since then, in university housing, basement apartments, and most recently, during my Katrina relief work in New Orleans, where they get as big and fly with as much agility as the ones I grew up with. And to make things worse, they seem drawn to me! My teammates nicknamed me "Roach Landing Pad" after my second hurricane recovery trip for a reason. Needless to say, facing this phobia head-on has not helped me overcome it, but has instead intensified it. And I am ready to admit defeat. Damn you, little beast, damn you!