Philemaphobia or Philematophobia- Fear of kissing.
Philophobia- Fear of falling in love or being in love.
Fear of missing out on something good/great/fantastic because you’re afraid you’re in too deep, getting too close? Is there a word for this? (And, no, that’s not it. Not the words I’d use, exactly, but close.)
Not too deep nor too close. It’s this: you are effectively closing off your usual escape hatches and exit routes. You’re feeling, maybe, a tad committed, even geographically? Your house is in almost-fully in contract; one and only offspring is in college; things with The Man are nice, friendly. Loving and relatively smooth for a learning curve. Work is enjoyable, entertaining, informative, educational and – totally – stimulating. So, Life is, essentially and blessedly, perking along quite nicely. What’s the problem?
And, now you’re starting to feel stuck…or fear ‘stuck’ is about to make an appearance. (By the way, *this* is the problem.)
Two hours later, during lunch: spellcheck, revisit, and admit some awkward but truthful things
I always wind up leaving. Volunteering and over-booking my free time; taking every free shift at a job, asking for overtime; taking a second or third job; putting others first (who do not deserve to be in that spot). There are several avenues of exit, mostly pertaining to use of free time. i.e.: I am not home nor available for anything other than being useful and, in that usefulness, there is no time or risk of connecting with a partner.
So, later, I will think about how not to mess everything up and allow joy.