Taming the Fear Monster

For years, Kyle Hargreaves, 13, had a secret fear. It wasn’t a fear of snakes or spiders. It wasn’t a fear of heights or water. Kyle was afraid of costumed characters, like the ones you see hugging little kids at theme parks and the mascots you see goofing around at sporting events.

Such characters caused Kyle to experience true terror. His heart would pound. Sweat would pour down his face. He would have trouble breathing.

What’s wrong with me? Kyle wondered.

Kyle tried to control his fear, but he couldn’t. As time went by, the problem only seemed to get worse. Then one day, at a hockey game near his hometown of Reading, Pennsylvania, the sight of mascots caused Kyle such distress that his dad thought Kyle was having a stroke.

Kyle was suffering from a phobia: an extreme, irrational, and lasting fear of something. Specifically, he was suffering from masklophobia: fear of people in masks and costumes.

When people with phobias encounter—or in some cases, just think about—the thing they fear, they react severely. They may panic, vomit, or feel like they are going to pass out.

Millions of Americans suffer from phobias. Scientists aren’t sure what exactly causes them, but they do know they are related to fear.

But having a phobia is different from simply being afraid of something. With a phobia, the fight-or-flight response is triggered by something that isn’t as threatening as the person feels it is. And the feelings of terror don’t go away. People with phobias often understand that their fears are irrational, yet they feel helpless to stop them.

Given the intensity of the terror, it’s understandable that people with phobias sometimes go to extreme lengths to avoid the thing they fear. Someone with claustrophobia—fear of small, enclosed spaces—might walk up 30 flights of stairs rather than step into an elevator, for example. For Kyle, his phobia led him to avoid sports games, amusement parks, theme restaurants, and any other place where he might encounter a costumed character.

But avoidance makes phobias worse, says Amit Etkin, a professor of psychiatry at Stanford University. If you don’t interact with the thing that scares you, your brain will never accept that it’s not harmful, and the fear can become even more exaggerated. That’s why people with phobias are encouraged to work with a mental health professional, such as a psychologist or a counselor, to face their fears in a safe and healthy way.

And that is exactly what Kyle decided to do. Not long after the hockey game, his dad took him to the Child Study Center at Virginia Tech. There, Kyle was treated with a technique called Exposure Response and Prevention, in which patients with phobias are gradually exposed to what frightens them. For example, a patient with arachnophobia slowly moves closer to a spider. Over time, when nothing bad happens, the feeling of fear around spiders lessens.

Kyle’s treatment began when he was greeted by a man carrying a bunny costume. Kyle started to panic but didn’t run away. He knew he needed to face his fear. Once Kyle felt calm, the man put on the body of the costume but not the head. Kyle again became anxious, but eventually he relaxed. Then the two played basketball. After a while, the man put on the head and other costumed characters joined the game.

Kyle was anxious every step of the way. By the end of the day, though, his fear had dissipated.

That evening, he and his dad went to an annual event at Virginia Tech called “Gobblerfest,” where they interacted with many mascots. Kyle felt no trepidation at all. At one point, he even high-fived one of the mascots. To prevent his phobia from returning, Kyle had to interact with costumed characters several times a week for a month.

To celebrate Kyle’s new, fear-free relationship with costumed characters, his family decided to take a trip.

Where did they go?

Disney World.

Once upon a time in a village in Ethiopia, there lived a boy who was so shy and fearful of the world around him that his family and friends and neighbors called him Miobe: “frightened one.”

“Why do you call me that?” the boy asked.

They laughed. “Because you are afraid.”

Miobe pondered these words. He decided he must find a way to overcome his fear. So, he packed a sack and set off into the world to find what he feared—and to conquer it.

At the base of the mountain, Miobe looked up and felt a chill. The monster appeared bigger and more fiery than any dragon, fiercer than a pack of wolves or a nest of snakes. He remembered the days when he was afraid.

With a deep breath, he began to climb.

As he climbed, he looked up, but now he saw the monster seemed smaller. “How peculiar,” he said aloud.

He continued to climb. Halfway up, he looked again. He squinted, shielding his eyes, but the monster’s eyes no longer seemed as fierce, the flames no longer shot from its snout.

“The closer I get, the smaller he looks,” Miobe said, puzzled. He continued to climb, pulling his dagger from his sack so that he would be prepared.

As he came around a bend in the path, he saw the summit before him.

He gasped. The monster had disappeared.

Miobe looked behind him. Surely the creature would sneak up from behind to attack. But when he turned, he saw nothing. He heard nothing. He held his breath.

Then he continued on until at last, he reached the top. All was empty and quiet. Nothing was there.

Suddenly, he heard a sound at his feet. He looked down and saw a little creature—a toad with wrinkled skin and round, frightened eyes.

 “How did you become so small?” he asked.

The monster said nothing, so Miobe cradled it in his hands and walked down the mountain.

When he reached the village, the people cried, “He’s safe!” and they surrounded him. Miobe held out his hands and showed them the tiny wrinkled toad.

“This is the monster,” he said.

“What is your name?” the elder asked the toad.

The creature croaked, and the elder looked up at the crowd and said, “Miobe has brought us the monster. Its name is fear.”

This article was originally published in the May 2020 issue.