Extermination of Pests—and Horror
Extermination of Pests—and Horror
Control your roaches and emotions.
Heather Story’s relationship with insects was fostered during childhood.
Her father, a professor of entomology at LSU and owner of Baton Rouge
Pest Control, taught her about insects. So, Heather took up the family
business with a deep appreciation of these creatures. This understanding
provided a bulwark for encounters that would send many of us to a
therapist. For a pest control technician, there’s no time for
counseling when roaches are pouring out from beneath a kitchen sink or
bedbugs are scrambling for cover from behind a headboard.
When faced with skittering insects in tight spaces, Heather admits to a sense of revulsion. It’s not as if she no longer experiences what we feel. Rather, she has developed a toolbox of mental tactics that bear a striking similarity to the methods used in the treatment of entomophobia.
Heather’s first line of defense is desensitization through repeated exposure. After several thousand hornets have dive-bombed, a few million fleas have leapt, and countless cockroaches have skittered, it takes a great deal of stimulation to evoke fear or disgust (together making for the experience of horror).
And when a situation crosses a perceptual threshold (such as having cockroaches scamper up her pant leg or wriggle into her hair), Heather’s next tactic resembles an approach advocated by therapists during exposure therapy. She focuses her attention on something positive or distracts herself with pleasant thoughts, such as the paycheck for an honest day’s work.
Heather is an extremely intelligent woman, so it’s not surprising that her most potent tool in fending off the rising sense of fear or disgust is rationality: “I think about how silly my feelings are over harmless insects, and I tell myself that the faster I put my irrational feelings aside the sooner I can get on with the job.” This sounds like the mantra of a patient undergoing cognitive behavioral therapy (positive self-instruction is a common tactic in CBT). Reasoning is a potent defense and as appalling as a houseful of vermin might be, there is actually little danger—when you think about it.
In the course of a CBT session, a therapist might have a patient imagine, “What if I had no fear?” and then act as if it were true to cultivate self-confidence. Or as Heather puts it:
“I did experience disgust early in my career but I knew I had to at least look professional so I swallowed my disgust and just got the job done.”
Heather also contextualizes the nature of her work, much like how some first responders set aside their own feelings to focus on those in need. Few of us think of pest control as being one of the “helping professions” but anyone who can attest to the improved quality of life that comes from exterminating the fleas in your carpet, the roaches in your kitchen—or the infestation of your mind.
When faced with skittering insects in tight spaces, Heather admits to a sense of revulsion. It’s not as if she no longer experiences what we feel. Rather, she has developed a toolbox of mental tactics that bear a striking similarity to the methods used in the treatment of entomophobia.
Heather’s first line of defense is desensitization through repeated exposure. After several thousand hornets have dive-bombed, a few million fleas have leapt, and countless cockroaches have skittered, it takes a great deal of stimulation to evoke fear or disgust (together making for the experience of horror).
And when a situation crosses a perceptual threshold (such as having cockroaches scamper up her pant leg or wriggle into her hair), Heather’s next tactic resembles an approach advocated by therapists during exposure therapy. She focuses her attention on something positive or distracts herself with pleasant thoughts, such as the paycheck for an honest day’s work.
Heather is an extremely intelligent woman, so it’s not surprising that her most potent tool in fending off the rising sense of fear or disgust is rationality: “I think about how silly my feelings are over harmless insects, and I tell myself that the faster I put my irrational feelings aside the sooner I can get on with the job.” This sounds like the mantra of a patient undergoing cognitive behavioral therapy (positive self-instruction is a common tactic in CBT). Reasoning is a potent defense and as appalling as a houseful of vermin might be, there is actually little danger—when you think about it.
In the course of a CBT session, a therapist might have a patient imagine, “What if I had no fear?” and then act as if it were true to cultivate self-confidence. Or as Heather puts it:
“I did experience disgust early in my career but I knew I had to at least look professional so I swallowed my disgust and just got the job done.”
Heather also contextualizes the nature of her work, much like how some first responders set aside their own feelings to focus on those in need. Few of us think of pest control as being one of the “helping professions” but anyone who can attest to the improved quality of life that comes from exterminating the fleas in your carpet, the roaches in your kitchen—or the infestation of your mind.
