Here's my story.
Hi all. Ever since I was about 5, I have had an intense fear of vomiting. It all started when I was laying on my couch watching tv, while it was only me and my brother home. He wasn't feeling good, but I thought nothing of it because I didn't have this terrible.. sickness. He ended up throwing up right in front of the tv, but I decided not to move. I put a pillow in the way so I couldn't see it, and I was fine. I truly wish I would still be fine like that today. I stayed like that until my parents got home. I can still remember how I didn't think it was too gross, I wasn't grossed out by it. Ever since then, I have been so affected and afraid by vomit. It is so bad that I hate going into public restrooms because of the fear that someone will run in, throwing up. This kills me. I have a great life, but this is slowly tearing me apart. I can't go a day without thinking about this fear. I usually lack sleep at night, imagining hearing a cough or hack coming from the bathroom. This makes me spring out of my bed and look around. If I notice someone is in the bathroom while this is happening, I run to the door and stand outside. This usually makes me look stupid because it never really happens, but I don't care. I need to get away from that vomit.
I would rather go to the bathroom on the side of the road than go in a public rest stop.
Recently, I was on a long car trip with my mom, dad, and brother. My mom felt very nauseous while driving. I didn't know this until she asked for a paper towel. I asked why, no answer. After about ten times of me asking, she mumbled,"I don't feel good."
Those words alone can make me so nervous and anxious. It makes me jittery, and nauseous myself. This doesn't make the problem better. I sat with my eyes closed and blasted loud music.
She ended up not, you know, and it would have literally ruined my vacation if she did. I wanted to cry.
Why me? Why? Why did that one event affect me so much?
If only my brother knew, if only he knew what he has done to me. How he has ruined my life.
I don't ever want to share a roommate in college, which dampers my education a lot.
I can't work in anything health related (doctor, nurse, etc..) because of the possible vomiting.
I don't want to have kids because I won't know what to do if they ever get sick, which they will.
I feel like if I got married, my husband would either get sick of my phobia or get sick himself, which I wouldn't be able to deal with.
I can't go on planes because a close encounter with someone holding a barf bag to his face, not actually vomiting. Thinking of other people feeling sick makes me feel sick.
I honestly think that this fear.. phobia is going to ruin my life.
And it's all my brother's fault.
He has no idea, no fucking idea. If he did, maybe he would be nicer to me and care a little more about this 'stupid fear'. But he has no idea he has ruined my life forever.
I can't tell him, either.
Everything. Everything is affected by this.
Therapy, by all time low.
 It relates to my life so much. I listen to it atleast once a day and cry. I can't help it.
Some lyrics,"Give me therapy, I'm a walking travesty but I'm smiling at everything." relate to me the most.
Everyone knows me as a girl who is always smiling, never stressed. The truth is, I probably shouldn't be smiling after everything that is going on in my head. I'm trapped, I'm miserable. But I always smile.
I feel like I would be letting my family down by telling them I need mental help.
I need to go to therapy. I need to be hypnotized and get over this fear. They think I'm kidding, I've mentioned this to them before.
I just want to show my mom this letter I'm writing, and burst out crying. But I can't.
I can't tell them that this is real, and ruining my life. It'd be so much easier to be a 'normal' child without any vomiting phobia.
I'll never drink. (I'll never throw up from drinking)
I'll never go to wild parties. (I'll never witness other people drunk and vomiting)
I'll just stay inside, by myself. I have a feeling I'll grow up alone.
Tonight, I was visiting my mom's best friend's husband in the hospital. He had a stroke.
I laid on the hospital bed that was next to his, and I felt like I belonged there. How messed up is that? I actually felt like I was supposed to be there.
I have a serious mental condition, and I don't know how to treat it or what to do.
None of my friends, not even best friends know about this. They just think I don't like it, I don't like throwing up.
That's not even the beginning.
I feel like if I tell them, they won't understand how tough it is. They may just laugh and think it's a joke.
Here's some news, It's not a joke.
It's just my pathetic struggle of a life due to Emetophobia.