Exclusively sporting equipment type balls being thrown in my direction. I am not afraid of balls of the testicular variety; although I do not have a particular affinity for this type of balls; nor am afraid of edible balls such as cheese balls, crab balls or popcorn balls. I am hesitant, however, to eat actual animal balls. Further, I am not afraid of those mirror balls in gardens; although I question their purpose. I am also not afraid of disco balls (but would be if one was being thrown at me) or Magic Eight balls or ball point pens.
As in when I am up high without a parachute or a man wearing a parachute. If I have a parachute, I am not afraid, because I can simply jump and end my anxiety.
I am a writer afraid of committing to words on paper or in Pages (or word or blogger or wordpress or twitter or anywhere). The delete button is my crutch and my three children are my excuse.
4. Small groups
Give me a crowd of 10,000 and I will rock out a presentation like I am Mick Jagger. Give me a small group of 4 and I choke. It is simply too intimate and too close; everyone can see my wrinkles.
It takes one wayward cell, and suddenly your 14 month old is a cancer patient. Cells are just so small, like a splinter in the molecular structure of humanity. Cancer could be anywhere; simply waiting. There is no parachute for cancer. Nor is there a delete button. Cancer is lonely and singular and intimate. And when it appears, it is always thrown right at your head.