Hi, my name is Jessica, and I'm afraid of bleach.
Okay, that's not entirely true. I'm afraid to bleach clothing. Or sheets. Or anything else that's not a sink. Sinks are fine. Me, the sink, and bleach are all good. Is that rational? Is that even a thing? Bleachphobia? Or perhaps bleachaphobia? I don't know. But I have it.
I fully realize that this is completely absurd. Completely. I've been married for 9 years, have 4 children, and have yet to put bleach in my washing machine. It's come really close. Really close.
I can remember a couple years ago calling my mom and asking her how to bleach clothes. I'm certain we talked for a good 15 minutes. I clarified all my questions and built up some courage. After I hung up the phone, I put all the whites into the washing machine, got out the bleach, and then...added a double portion of regular laundry soap and called it good.
I've been building up the courage to do it ever since. In fact, I have a spot in my bedroom cluttered with white clothing that my family most definitely cannot wear due to their current state of not-whiteness. It's my "white stuff that needs to some year get bleached so my family can wear it" laundry pile. I've been known to just throw white clothing away when it gets too bad.
I don't know if I've ever had a true fear before. Other than the typical monsters under the bed and checking each bed sheet for spiders every night (doesn't everyone do that?). But clearly, I'm afraid of bleach.
Someday I'll use it in my washing machine. Someday. Until then, though, does anyone want to take home my whites pile and bleach them for me? :)