Casadastraphobia? Eustachian Tube Dysfunction May Be to Blame

Note: I’m not a doctor or any kind of medical professional. If you think you have a medical or psychological issue, please discuss it with an actual professional. My intention with this blog post isn’t to diagnose or to dispense medical advice. My degree is in Spanish language and culture, not medicine.

In September 2025, I went to Shaky Knees — this giant music festival in Atlanta — with my good friend Megan. I was mainly there to see Mdou Moctar for my second time ever, and his set was absolutely worth braving the long walk through the park, but we stayed all day. Actually, Megan went every day of that weekend, which honestly makes her stronger than me. Just one day of trekking back and forth across Piedmont Park was pushing it for me, haha.

I just realized I didn’t take any photos of us together at Shaky Knees, but this was taken right before we headed out.

Obligatory photo of Mdou (and TAKAAT!)

At some point, while we were waiting for Vampire Weekend to go on, Megan and I whipped out a blanket and laid down in the middle of the open field, welcoming some rest after an action-packed day of walking around and standing in crowds. While sprawled out on my back, I looked up at the twilight sky and instead of feeling awe, wonder, and relaxation, I was instantly gripped with fear. Despite the fact that my whole body was on the ground, I felt like I was floating up into the sky.

The big, open field in question.

Panicking a little, I sat up, but that didn’t help. I kept getting hit with rushes of anxiety and, to ground myself, I had no option but to reach out and grab the grass in front of me. Even that proved ineffective, which begs the question: How do you prove to your brain that you’re lying down, when it’s convinced you’re floating up into the air? There’s not a lot you can do in that moment, to be honest. Standing up helped at first, but by the time Blink-182 went on, Megan noticed that I wasn’t feeling well. Halfway through their set, I basically dragged her up a hill so that I could sit under a tree because the field we were in just felt too open and even Blink’s nostalgic performance couldn’t tear me out of the strange sensation of doom I felt.

Ultimately, we wound up leaving a little early. I felt bad, like I’d forced my friend to miss the last songs of an artist she loved, but I couldn’t handle the feeling of dread any longer. I felt better while we were walking back to the Marta station, but the unease didn’t truly subside until I made it home and into bed with a roof over my head. Before I drifted off to sleep, I googled “fear of being sucked into the sky” and discovered that there is, indeed, a word for this oddly specific fear.

The fear of being sucked into the sky is called casadastraphobia, and I was fairly certain in that moment that I had suddenly become casadastraphobic.

That’s not actually where this story starts, though.

No, the story actually starts in August, 2025. In the hot days of late summer, the office wasn’t staying cool as efficiently as it once had, so my boss called in a worker to mess with the AC. In the process of whatever he was working on, I believe this hired hand stirred up dust or mold or both, because in the days and weeks following that, every employee that came into the office immediately started coughing, sneezing, or both…including me.

Exposure to those allergens in the office caused me to develop sinusitis. I’m no stranger to sinus inflammation. Quite the opposite: because my wisdom teeth are apparently in my sinuses (I must have a horrifying-looking skull) I’m more prone to sinus inflammation than most people. And very often, when I get sick, or even have allergies, those irritants get stuck in my sinuses for a long time, causing symptoms over and over again until I finally take the right combination of meds.

But this bout of sinusitis was different. It affected my inner ears more than anything else. My eustachian tubes — the passages that connect my inner ears to my sinuses — were full of fluid. Every time I yawned or swallowed, I felt this “wub-wub” sensation inside of them. I could feel the pressure in my head, the tinnitus — which I think I’ve had since I was born — got louder, and it was just very unpleasant overall.

I went through multiple doctors, who prescribed me steroids and even antibiotics at one point, because I kept getting sick and my eustachian tube dysfunction wasn’t getting better. None of the treatments I had been given helped long-term: It seemed like I kept getting sick every other week, and the fluid in my ears stayed right where it was, not budging.

After long nights of looking things up on the internet, desperate to understand my condition, I now know that eustachian tube dysfunction can throw off your vestibular system. The vestibular system is responsible for helping you understand where you are in space and helps you keep your balance. The most well-known symptom related to vestibular system dysfunction is vertigo, a sensation that the world is spinning around you. I never fully developed vertigo, thank God, but my symptoms were suggestive of a vestibular problem nonetheless. 

The eustachian tube dysfunction was diagnosed back in September. I haven’t been formally diagnosed with a vestibular disorder yet, but the symptoms line up, and the more I read about it, the more everything I’ve been dealing with over the past four months started to make sense. My poor brain has no idea where I am in space! That’s why I feel disoriented and anxious in wide-open spaces, without visual anchors like trees or buildings. The inner ears play a major role in your ability to balance; when they’re acting up, you may feel unsteady and, in some cases, floaty. So now I’m fairly certain that’s what’s happening to me.

Yes, I was afraid of floating up into the sky. But, more accurately, it felt like I was floating up into the sky, and that’s an important distinction. It was a very real and terrifying sensation that I now believe was caused by those same inner ear issues that have been plaguing me since August. Like I said in my disclaimer above, I’m not here to diagnose anyone, but I am here to suggest that, if you think you have casadastraphobia, you may want to look into inner ear issues. The cause of your fear could very well be vestibular, not psychological. And, if that’s the case, you’ll be relieved to know that it’s treatable! At least, I was. I cried with joy when I finally connected all the dots and discovered that the underlying causes could be addressed with the right medical support.

I have an appointment with an audiologist next week. Even though it’s only a phone visit, and I’m pretty sure they’ll want to see me in person, I’m highly looking forward to it. I’ve already tried one vestibular exercise I found online, one where you focus on a letter on the wall and move your head right to left a couple of times without moving your eyes, and I genuinely think that helped a little. Again, I’m not prescribing you a treatment, just saying that it made me feel more stable than I have in a while. It also made me irritable, I think, so try it with caution. Anyway, I have hope that, pretty soon, I’ll be able to enjoy looking up at the moon again. 

According to what I’ve read, it’s pretty rare for an adult to develop eustachian tube dysfunction, especially if they didn’t have constant ear infections as a child (I didn’t!) But I think it’s possible that this is one of those conditions that’s under-diagnosed, not necessarily that rare. Casadastraphobia is also a relatively rare phobia, but I wouldn’t be surprised if there were way more people out there who feel that anxiety, just don’t know the word for it. And I wonder how many of them are suffering alone, feeling disoriented and off-balance all the time and not knowing why. 

I feel for them, I really do.

If you made it this far, thank you! I hope you have a happy New Year and that 2026 brings us all a little inspiration.

I had this idea for a blog post at, like, 11:30pm and it’s now almost 1am. To me, that’s the purest form inspiration comes in: when you’re just lying in bed, ruminating, and realize: “It’s not enough to swype this in a phone note. I have to go type it out!” and, before you know it, you have 3 pages written in Google docs.

That’s the kind of inspiration I hope strikes you soon, dear reader.

Your friend,

Janvier Olszon