Who has their Own Kryptonite?

I mean something that leaves you, nerves shattered so badly your whole existence gives in and you're curled on the ground in a fetal position twitching, nearly insane?

No? Me, neither. Okay, I do. Bet you do to. Example:

Several years ago, a friend of mine and I were going daytrippin' to a beach over an hour away...you know, a real beach, meaning there would be a lot of girls we could pretend might like us...not that we'd go up to them, as there'd be no challenge to it they'd like us so much.

Anyway,
We had to take a highway there and we're going about 65mph, when suddenly my friend - who's driving - starts in a voice rising to a scream: Make it stop, make it stop, make it STOP, MAKE IT STOP!

And he SLAMS on the brakes, screeching us into the breakdown lane, leave part of his tires in a zig zag skid on the road. 65 to 0...like that. He grabs his head and holds on, breathing out and goes: I can't stand that.

Stand what? Styrofoam on Styrofoam.

It was the cheap cooler we bought to put ice and sodas in. The top had come loose and started jiggling on the less than smooth road we were on. So, his kryptonite? Styrofoam.

Me. Metal against gravel or tar...especially a shovel for some reason. I'm done. That twitching fetus on the floor. I can be talking and laughing and joking and ready to take on anything, shoveling away snow with my PLASTIC shovel and someone else will suddenly hit driveway with their METAL shovel, and I'm done. Baam. Like that. Mid-sentence.

And it's one of those slow-motion-twirling-round-and-down-as-motor-control-over-speech diminishes-to-that-of-a-person-who's-just-had-a-Novocaine-injection-and-I-all-but-collapse-or-do type of done.

Now kryptonite. Those are rare tiny fragments of Superman's planet Krypton after it exploded that rained as meteorites onto Earth. My friend and my Kryptonites can be purchased at any local store...for cheap.

And so, if we were the superheroes, all the criminals would have to do is rub Styrofoam together or repeatedly scrape metal on gravel. Not only would we definitely not get our own type of "Bat Signal", we wouldn't get a call. And if we called them: Thanks guys, but we've got this one handled...and as they'd hang up, we'd hear them laughing out: It was the SuperZeroes again.

So, your kryptonite?