The Process of Exposure Therapy
If you have an irrational fear of anything, you’ve come to the right place!
I was around seven years old when my qualms with crickets began, so before I sought help it had been over fifteen years. I was terrified of exposure therapy, because it meant that I would have to confront these creatures, but after researching the process, my anxieties were, at least partially, alleviated.
What I am about to describe has been my own experience with exposure therapy, which means it may not look the same for you. I had a licensed therapist on board, and I truly would advise anyone seeking help to do the same.
Reasons why working with a therapist is recommended (or necessary):
Structure — I rarely have days where I want to be working with crickets. As with any self-betterment, it is exhausting. Exposure therapy provokes anxiety and requires a lot of bravery, which is why it’s difficult to motivate yourself to keep going. There is no better motivator than the threat of a no-show fee!
Support — It’s easy to want to do too little or too much when trying to overcome fear. Having someone qualified to support you is essential, in that it allows you to lean on someone without a sense of judgement. Re: “Do you think I should keep my hand in the box for longer?” “Can I get out of my bathtub now?” You are the ultimate decision-machine in your sessions, but deciding anything while holding a dead cricket is hard, which is why you want an outside voice that only wants what’s best for you.
Logistics — As I will outline in the rest of this post, I started my exposures with imagination exercises and images. Now, how on Earth would I do that by myself?
Now that we’ve established it’s best to pair up with a professional: what happens?
The first thing you will most likely start with is detailing the ins and outs of your phobia. When and why did it start? Is there a deeper reason as to why you’re afraid of an insect that can’t harm you or a fictional character that doesn’t exist? It’s important not only for your therapist to know these things, but also for you to have some perspective on your fears. It might seem embarrassing to talk about your “weaknesses” like this, but when you know the ‘why,’ it will help you observe your own reactions without judgement.
Next, you will establish a hierarchy. For me, the most difficult thing was obviously encountering live specimens. Things that were more manageable were sounds and vague interpretations. Here is my hierarchy (lowest to highest anxiety):
The bright green colour that I associate with Polish grasshoppers (think ‘brat’ album cover)
The sound of many crickets outside
The sound of one cricket indoors
Cartoonish cricket drawings
Realistic cricket drawings
Pictures of crickets
Pictures of grasshoppers
Videos of one cricket
Videos of a lot of crickets
Videos of one grasshopper
Videos of multiple grasshoppers
Videos of locust swarms (Jesus Christ!)
One small dead cricket
Multiple dead crickets
Live crickets
Live grasshoppers
You get the idea.
Our first session was all about imagination. I would close my eyes (after doing some relaxation exercises) and imagine encountering a cricket on the sidewalk. To anyone who has never had an irrational fear this may sound funny, but I was sweating. When that stopped provoking anxiety, we moved onto ‘brat’ green. I was sitting in my apartment, touching an image of the colour on my laptop screen. Then, my therapist found a video of leaves moving through the green — that was hard. Crickets move too.
When I was able to sit through a “Relaxing Nighttime Field Sounds 8 Hour Loop” video without my hands shaking, we moved to images.
My first ever cricket friend was Specimen Zero. When I look at him now, I think he’s adorable and he reminds me of the baby cricket friends I keep in my apartment. At the time, he was a horrorshow.
For the first month or so, I only saw him blurred. Slowly, I would see this image in front of me sharper and sharper. It was like watching The Conjuring and seeing more and more of the demon that’s terrorising the house. When Specimen Zero became my friend, we moved onto other cartoon crickets. Stefan was the worst.
When I could sit through images and videos of crickets that weren’t real, I was able to finally do something spectacular.
I watched A Bug’s Life, Pinocchio, The Secret Life of Pets 2, and other animated media that I wasn’t able to watch before. I was a long way away from being fear-free, but I felt so much freedom already.
My first few real images were difficult and took much longer for me to get used to than Specimen Zero and Stefan. But habituating (everyone’s favourite term in exposure therapy) to them allowed me to do another thing I was never able to do— research crickets! I could learn about the environments they like, what kind of crickets and grasshoppers exist, and how to murder them effectively. Just kidding on that last one <3. I set the lock screen on my phone to some of the photos for more exposures throughout the week.
When we got through videos, I wasn’t afraid of finding a cricket or grasshopper on my social media feed anymore (now I can see lizards being cute without fear), and I had more movies I could watch!
A few years before starting this process, my cousin and I scheduled a time to watch the latest Jurassic World movie together. This was extra special because we live on different continents, and even when I’m home she’s still a three hour drive away. We grew up watching creature features and were so excited to see this one.
As I was doing my makeup to make the drive and go see her, my best friend texted me the bad news: “My friend just saw the Jurassic World movie and said the main villain was a swarm of locusts.” You must be fucking kidding me.
My cousin and I made a plan: we asked everyone when the first creature shows up in the movie, and I would close my eyes. She would then assess how realistic the grasshopper-dinosaur hybrid was, and tell me if I can open my eyes again. (She grew up with my phobia, so she was an expert.) Before the movie even began, she found a few pictures of the hybrid and showed me a few very-zoomed-in-on-certain-body-parts images while standing on the other side of the room. We were prepared.
As the kids ran through the field and one of the hybrids got caught on a fence, my cousin grabbed my arm like our lives depended on it and said: “Cameron, do not open your eyes under any circumstances.” I watched the whole movie with my eyes closed, like a podcast.
So now you know how special it was when I could watch the movie with her again, this time with my eyes wide open.
Then, I went to Petco to get my first ever dead cricket pet. I named him Jay, and he was much scarier in the box. I carried him home with my arm outstretched far in front of me, and broke a sweat every hour for two days straight, anticipating having to look at him in my next session. When I finally opened the box, he was… crispy? And small? And after a few months I had a collection of dead crickets that I could hold in my hands like it was a normal thing to do.
For live specimens, I started with adults. I kept them in a clear box and looked at them. I could hear their sounds in my apartment at all times, and while it made it difficult to fall asleep, it was real progress.
Then, I started herding baby crickets, which I was able to touch and hold after a while.
Then, I held crickets that grew up.
Then, I walked and sat in real grass when it was warm outside. My dog was overjoyed.
And now, I have weekly dates with crickets in my bathtub, so that we have more room for activities but I don’t accidentally cause an infestation.
I still have more to overcome, but this process has been unlike anything else I’ve ever done. Whenever I have to do something difficult, I remind myself that if I can hold my greatest fear in the palm of my hand, I can do that other thing too. It took a lot of tears and stress and bumps in the road, but once I finally run into a field, it will be so worth it. Maybe I’ll even go camping one day.