Mental illness through history often gets overwritten or overlooked... largely because it makes certain people's stories less tragic. ("Organic" catastrophe is always more poetic.) But many disturbed historical figures lived during times when only physical afflictions ever garnered any validity or research, leaving the mentally burdened to fend for themselves in the only ways they could.
Moreover, if mentally ill historical figures did receive treatment, it generally came in the form of history's terrifying mental asylums, those outdated horror chambers that surely exacerbated more problems than they ever solved. All in all, being mentally ill proved to be a double whammy against you: No one took your diagnosis seriously, and if they did, they imprisoned or electro-shocked you for it.
Many of the great artists and innovators of the world were also historical figures with crazy phobias - disorders that are largely absent from textbooks or biographies. Thankfully, the modern world generally shows more sympathy for famous figures with anxiety and other forms of mental illness. But victims of archaic medicine enjoyed no such privilege, and for that reason their afflictions (some of which undoubtedly contributed to the works that the world continues to appreciate today) deserve recognition.
Poet, director, playwright, and actor Antonin Artaud, a key figure in the Surrealist movement, is known for many things, including his electrifying and eccentric performances and his seminal work The Theatre and its Double. But he's equally famous for his insanity, which took on forms that were as insightfully bizarre as they were insightfully tragic. Always passionate and quirky, Artaud didn't actually cross the line into "bonafide insanity" until later. But when his madness began to flower, it came out in full force. He spit on imaginary figures, threatened pedestrians with his "magic cane," and took a trip to Ireland to find the tree-worshipping druids who'd fashioned said walking apparatus.
Artaud spent his final years in institutions. He once described himself as “a dead man at the side of a living man who is no longer himself,” and once remarked, poignantly, that “blows were the only language in which [he] felt comfortable speaking." His work, however, lives on.
Beloved Danish author Hans Christian Andersen wrote many of the world's most timeless and beautiful fairytales, which run the gamut from "The Little Mermaid" to "The Ugly Duckling" to "The Emperor's New Clothes." Though Andersen is a legend throughout the world, not many people know that he also suffered from taphephobia, otherwise known as a fear of being buried alive. (Though such terror actually wasn't all that uncommon back in the days before foolproof medical technology and foolproof embalming.)
Premature burial was only one of Andersen's many phobias. According to his biographer, the author kept a note on or near him at all times which read, "I only appear to be dead." In his last days, he even begged his friends to cut his veins and bleed him out after his passing... all the better to ensure that he'd really bitten the dust.
All of which is the stuff that great stories (and great horror stories) are made of.
No list of famous phobias would be complete without Salvador Dali's raving genius (and multiple fears). In truth, there were few things Dali couldn’t turn into objects of surrealist terror (he feared female genitalia, for example, an aversion his muse Gala eventually cured him of... more or less). But he also suffered from a fear of insects, a condition otherwise known as Ekbom syndrome.
According to the Smithsonian, the disorder induces "tactile hallucinations," meaning that the victim "feels" imaginary insects crawling along his skin. The piece goes on to describe the artist's hellish experience with the neurosis, which apparently debuted when he was alone in a hotel room and woke to the sight of what looked like a bug burrowing into his flesh. When he found no insects amid the sheets, Dali ran his hands over his body, and found a small bump on his back. In panic, he began gouging at it. As it turned out, the bug was one of his own moles, but as Dali explained in his autobiography:
I made a drastic decision, and with the savagery proportionate to my frantic condition, and to my horror, I seized a razor blade, held the tick tightly between my nails, and began to cut the interstice between the tick and the skin, which offered an unbelievable resistance. But in a frenzy I cut and cut and cut, blinded by the blood which was already streaming. The tick finally yielded, and half-fainting, I fell to the floor in my own blood.
Poe himself couldn't have described it more vividly.
Renowned film director Alfred Hitchcock had an assortment of fears (he was profoundly disturbed by cops, in particular), but not many people know of his deep loathing of eggs. His description of this particular phobia gets deeply visceral:
That white round thing without any holes... have you ever seen anything more revolting than an egg yolk breaking and spilling its contents of yellow liquid? Blood is jolly, red, by comparison. But egg yolk is yellow, revolting. I’ve never tasted it. And then I’m frightened of my own movies. I never go to see them. I don’t know how people can bear to watch my movies.