Mysophobia: Living With The Fear Of Germs

I'm going to assume that you have a healthy fear of germs. By that, I mean you don't want to get sneezed on, but if someone does happen to sneeze on you, you can just wash it off and go on with your day. You don't want someone to cough in your face, but if someone does cough in your face, you can just turn your head away and go on with your day. You normally wash your hands before you cook, but if you get halfway through cooking a meal and you realize you forgot to wash your hands, you can just wash them and keep cooking.

For a mysophobe, none of that is possible. If someone sneezes around me (it doesn't even have to be on me), I stop breathing. But I don't do it consciously. It feels like my throat closes and I just can't breathe until I run outside where there is fresh air. The same thing happens if someone coughs. And if someone were to sneeze or cough on me, I would have to scrub my skin with soap and then wipe the area down with alcohol. Once, someone sneezed on my face. I threw up. If I were to forget to wash my hands before cooking, the entire meal would be thrown away. In fact, I once threw away an entire meal because someone came into the kitchen and coughed while I was cooking. And when I cook, even if it's something that has to simmer for 4 hours, I have to stay in the kitchen the whole time to make sure nobody contaminates the food.

That's the difference between mysophobia and having a healthy fear of germs. For a mysophobe, avoiding germs is the most important thing in their life.

I'm not scared of every type of germ. I'll pick up bugs, play with the dog and dig in the dirt with no problems at all. My fears are focused on what I call people germs. I believe everybody, including me, is just riddled with germs. Most people take that to mean that I think they're dirty, so they take offense. But that's not what I think. I just think they have germs.

Let me put it like this. When you think of the word germ, what do you think about? Does it affect you at all?

It makes me feel sick to my stomach. When I think of germs, my mind conjures up images of disgusting little creatures crawling all over people just waiting for the chance to get on me. When someone coughs, sneezes, talks or breathes with their mouth open, in my mind I can see millions of germs flying through the air and attaching themselves to me. There are times when I think I can actually feel them on me.

It gets even worse when it comes to milk products. For some reason, I see milk products as being a germ paradise. I imagine them swimming around having a little hayday until they can get in my body and infect me. I'm okay as long as I'm eating by myself and as long as I eat the milk product within 3 minutes of getting it out of the fridge. But if someone comes in the room and I'm eating a milk product, I know my food is instantly contaminated, so it gets thrown away.

In case you're wondering, I don't obsessively wash my hands. I do wash them more often than other people, but if I feel dirty, washing them once is good enough for me (as long as I can dry them on my own personal towel).

I normally don't eat around anyone. It's too hard and I can never finish a meal. If someone coughs or sneezes, even if they are across the room, I have to throw my food away. If someone breathes too close to my food, I have to throw my food away. If someone nearby talks to me, I have to throw my food away.

Plus, I have a hard time eating food that someone else cooked. What if they didn't wash their hands? What if they double-dipped when doing a taste test? What if they coughed while the food was cooking? There are just too many questions. So if someone else cooks, I'll usually just make something else for me.

I'm extremely sensitive about milk products. If I'm eating a milk product and my husband comes in the room, I'll yell "milk product!" and he knows to just turn around and leave.

My food is kept separate from everyone else's food. I have my own fridge and my own food cupboard. I have to have my own jug of milk, my own jar of jelly, my own jar of peanut butter, my own loaf of bread, etc. If I even suspect someone got into my food, I'll throw it out. I even have my own salt and pepper shakers, which I keep on the highest shelf in a closed cupboard so they have a better chance of not getting hit if someone sneezes. When I cook too much and I know there will be leftovers, I put some in my fridge before anyone else even knows supper is ready. That way no one has the chance to breathe in my food.

I can't drink out of glasses or cups. I can't even drink out of a soda can. I only drink out of plastic water bottles that I can close. And if I accidentally leave my water bottle in a room when I walk out, it gets thrown away because I'm too scared someone might have drank out of it.

I'm very lucky because my husband, John, is completely understanding about my mysophobia. The best thing is his attitude towards it. After 3 years, he knows it's real and he knows it's serious. He also knows how bad I feel for making him put up with it. So he does his best to make me feel better while still giving me my space. And I know it's hard for him because he never knows if I'm having a good day or a bad day.

You see, I also suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder. And when I'm having a hard time handling my BPD, the mysophobia gets worse. There's been days when he can't even touch me; days when he can't even kiss me on the cheek; days when he can't even be near me because I'm so scared of getting his germs. His response to my bad days is what makes him the best husband in the world. If I don't let him kiss me or touch me, he'll say "That's fine right now, but I get extra later." and then he'll laugh and leave me be.

I know he puts up with a lot and it makes me love him even more.

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