I have a gas problem…

I know what you’re thinking… but no this isn’t the kind of gas problem that affects most pregnant women (though I’m not admitting I don’t have this one also)… but I have a completely strange disorder, and truly it too stinks.

I am scared to death of putting gas in my vehicle.

I don’t know why, honestly I don’t. I’ve gone over in my mind thousands of times the multiple of reasons why I may have this fear. I used to choke it up to lack of experience, because my manly husband didn’t think gassing up a car was woman’s work – fine by me! Then I went through the visions of my car exploding while I’m filling up and going through in my mind how I would try to unbuckle and save each of my carseated children. But it’s not that either. Is it the smell? The grunge appeal of a gas station? I have no clue. All I know is that when my gas gauge hits the half-way mark my anxiety begins. I try driving as little as possible, compiling in my mind the errands I can run at the same time in the same area, walking as much as possible and when driving attempting to use the gas as infrequently as I can – using the hills and cruising as much as possible. I’m nuts, don’t worry I know. At a quarter tank visions of running out of gas in the most dire of circumstances float in my head and I keep one eye on the road and the other on the gas gauge at all times. Now as I hover near empty and the inevitable fill-up looms before me, each short trip in the van fills me with fright.

My husband cannot even begin to comprehend, and mocks me quite openly. I don’t blame him. I tried to compare it to his fear of flying (sorry dear, this is the day we divulge all our secrets online!) When I first married this big strong man and we were on the plane to our honeymoon, I was shocked to find that he spent the flight clinging to me with his head in his lap – scared to death. Now when he knows he is going to be flying, he’ll spend the preceding week biting his nails and being completely nerve-wracked about his upcoming flight. He can’t help it. I don’t get it; I LOVE flying, but gassing up - UGHHHH! Mr. Man told me last night that I can’t compare this fear to flying, as gassing up takes less time than it does to fill up the bathtub and I’ll never be forced to gas-up for 13 hours (as we’ve had to fly).

So the time has come, any suggestions on soothing this completely unexplainable phobia would be fabulous. I need to fill up all the way to prevent the next fill-up from coming any sooner. The glorious feeling after I fill up is one of both relief and empowerment. I can do it! I just need to get it over with! Wish me luck.