It’s Time to Talk About Emetophobia
On a good day, I only think about it several times; and those thoughts don't linger too long – just a brief spike of anxiety that's quickly pushed away by a distraction of some sort.
On my worst days, I do not eat. I do not leave my room. I have several panic attacks. I can barely talk.
Emetophobia is the irrational fear of vomiting. It's embarrassing, and I rarely talk about it. When I do, I find myself making excuses. I know it's stupid or I'm being ridiculous.
I sometimes find myself wishing that I had a different phobia. A fear of flying, maybe, or an irrational terror of spiders. In the end, I know that's stupid. Phobias have one thing in common: aggressive, inescapable, irrational fear.
The problem with emetophobia is that I cannot escape the fear because that fear is inside of me. I could vomit at any time (and yes, writing that out made my heart rate skyrocket). Fact is, I cannot run away or avoid myself.
While emetophobes can't escape their fear the same way someone with a fear of heights can, we find various ways to cope. For example, I constantly carry medication on me at all times. I make sure that I can leave a social situation at any moment in case I start to feel sick. I know some emetophobes who have to carry lysol wipes in case they come in contact with germs; some swear by ginger candies to help with any sudden bouts on nausea. Some can't even say or read the word vomit
I can pinpoint the fear itself to an experience when I was 8. It was the night before the Fourth of July. I was with family in California, and I must have eaten something bad because I woke up in the middle of the night and full on Excorist-vomited all over the room. The next day, I was racked with fear that it would happen again. For years after, the fear plagued me. I became a vegetarian when I was 11 to avoid undercooked meat. Eating in general made me nervous, especially in restaurants where being sick would be obvious. Long car trips also terrified me. When I drink, I'm always nervous that I'll end up drinking too much.
At the end of the day, I know that the fear isn't just vomiting itself, it's the fact that I can't control the possibility of being sick. The resulting cycle usually goes like this:
A trigger: whether it be a stomach ache or heartburn, seeing someone gag or hearing the words "stomach virus"
Anxiety. I get anxious. The thought of throwing up grows bigger and bigger until I can't focus on anything else
Because anxiety so often manifests itself physically, I start to feel physical symptoms. Maybe it's just a pounding heart rate or sweaty palms, but sometimes (far too often) it's nausea
The nausea makes me anxious – am I gonna be sick?
I get more anxious, and I feel more sick.
The cycle continues until I die. At least that's what it feels like will happen
My emetophobia used to be, quite frankly, debilitating. Ironically enough, after throwing up when I was 8, I didn't throw up again until I was 20. I got the stomach bug when I was abroad in London in the fall of 2016. I puked on Halloween while dressed as Mary Poppins. Julie Andrews, I apologize.
I threw up again in March of 2017 when I got carsick on the way to the airport. That being said, I only regurgitated a banana, but still – trauma is trauma.
The last time I threw up was August of 2017 in my own childhood bathroom. It was, on paper, typical: a mix of wine, beer, and too much tequila on a stomach of only Thai food. To this day, I still can't eat Pad Thai.
I would love to be writing a success story at the moment – Suddenly, I realized there was nothing to be afraid of! But unfortunately, that is far from the truth. I still don’t eat red meat at all, and even though I eat chicken and fish, I get very anxious when I eat at a restaurant (food poisoning, of course). Stomach bug season is a nightmarish will-I-won’t-I-catch-it.
I don't talk about it. The reactions I've gotten are usually anything but encouraging. I mean, no one likes throwing up. Just get over it. Or worse. Just laughter.
Thus the title of this post. It's time to talk about emetophobia. You do not have to understand my fear, you don't have to experience it, but we have all experienced fear itself. So my request to anyone and everyone: when someone shares a fear with you, whether it be small or large, and whether you understand or don't, consider the common ground. You too have experienced fear, and that is where your empathy can come from. You don't have to get the phobia, but you can get the feeling of fear.
My tricks and tips for coping with my emetophobia are, in the long run, just a portion of overcoming the phobia. I talk to my therapist and psychiatrist about my experiences. I try to just name what I’m feeling to my friends – I feel a little nauseous so, of course, I’m pretty nervous. While I have made so much progress, I am by no means even close to the finish line of this shitty, shitty journey. Still, putting a name to my fear has helped me feel less, well, crazy. I hope that by sharing this, anyone else suffering from emetophobia will feel less alone.
And on that note, I am going to go eat some food and refuse to be afraid.
