*Trigger Warning!*
`
`
`
`
`
`
`
`
`
`
`
`
In this blog post I will be talking about Emetophobia. If you’re easily triggered by talk of vomit(v*), please skip this blog. I know how hard it is, I have been trying to write this article for months. It triggers me and I have to stop often. But I want people to know that this is a real phobia and one that is not easily controlled. Simply because we don't have a lot of control about when we (or others) v*.
What Is Emetophobia?
“Emesis” comes from the Greek word “emein,” which means “to vomit,” and “phobia,” obviously means an irrational fear.
Put "emesis" and "phobia" together, and what do you get? Emetophobia, the fear of v*ing.
I suffer from emetophobia. It started when I was around age 10. It’s a terrible fear to have, because you really can't avoid v*at some point or another. Sometimes you get sick, sometimes someone else gets sick, and as a mom especially, your kids are going to v*. A lot. Basically, v* happens in life and you can’t avoid it forever.
Unfortunately.
Emetophobia can be being scared of v* or v*ing, and of being around others who v*. The sight, sounds, or even the thought of v* can send a person with emetophobia into anxiety or a panic attack (or both). I mean, no one likes v*ing (it’s super gross and painful we can all agree on that!) People with emetophobia will avoid all situations that can in any way possibly lead to v*ing. Mention of the stomach flu? Avoid! Food that’s been in the fridge too long or near or past its expiration date? Throw that out! Kiddo has a tummy ache? Tag, Dad, you're in!
I didn’t always know that emetophobia had a name or it was an actual thing. I didn’t even know that other people had it. I honestly thought I was the only one in this shitty and exclusive club. I just knew that I had an intense and extreme fear of v*ing. It has ruled my life for many years and led me to avoid so many situations and experiences just because I was scared of the possibility I might v*. Because of this, I want to share my experience with all of you in the hopes that I can educate people about this phobia and hopefully help someone out there who reads this to know that they aren’t alone.
My journey to emetophobe began with what I call "The Arby’s Incident."
My Mom worked nights and my Dad would get home from work and take over when my Mom left for work. That evening he had brought home Arby’s for dinner. I remember telling him I had a stomach ache but he forced me to eat my dinner (something I am still so pissed about and will NEVER force anyone to do). Afterwards, I went to my room and laid in bed (on the top bunk, bad choice). I was laying in agony just feeling terrible, that nauseous gross feeling you have before being sick. I will spare you the details but I did end up getting violently sick. Everywhere for the next 12 hours. I lost count of how many times I v*. I remember praying to God to please just let me sleep and not v* anymore. This was the illness that triggered my phobia. It was a horrible bug or food poisoning, but it was bad. I didn’t eat for days after I recovered for fear of being sick again. This incident would leave an impact on me for life.
I became hyper aware of my stomach and my body. I constantly felt sick. I avoided Arby’s. Even the word. Never again. I lived in fear of when and if it would happen again. I couldn’t survive if it did. At least that’s what my irrational brain was telling me. I would wake up in the night panicking and that was just the beginning.
From there, the panic attacks would start and sneak up without warning. I remember waking up one day and feeling panicky and nauseous. I wouldn’t eat anything, since I was afraid of throwing up again. I never wanted to feel that panic again. My Dad would coax me with crackers and gentle foods he promised wouldn’t upset my stomach. I eventually started eating again, but that fear remained and to be honest, I ate a lot less in case I over ate and got sick. And continued to do so for many years to
come.
The Peak of Fear
I had become obs
essed with not v*ing. Or being around v*. Or seeing v* Or hearing someone v*. I even become obsessed with the idea v* in general, despite the fact that it scared me so much I would obsessively check the labels on food to make sure they weren’t spoiled or else I would get food poisoning. I couldn’t watch any movie that had a puking scene in it. You know that one iconic scene in The Sandlot? I used to be able to watch it and laugh, but just the thought of it would make me go crying into my room. Even comedic scenes with v* in them would send me in a blind panic. This led me to begin pulling my hair out as a coping mechanism, I guess. That's a whole other issue for a different blog post because that's a good topic to bring awareness to as well. It got so bad that I took to checking a website for parents that reviewed all the inappropriate things in movies to check for scenes of v*ing to mak
e sure I could watch the movie in peace.
My little sister and I shared a room and she was a notorious middle of the night puker. So often that I would fly out of bed at the slightest cough because more than once she v* with me in the room and once even the same BED. THE HORROR. I believe that that factor was also a huge trigger for me. I became hyper vigilant of everyone around me, constantly asking people how they were feeling or avoiding situations and people where someone might v* or had v* recently.
I ate less and less-in case it would make me sick, or to keep my stomach empty in case I got sick. In retrospect I guess I had an eating disorder, but I didn’t see it as that because I was not starving myself to be thinner, or because I didn’t like my body, I was just literally afraid of food because food is what makes you v*. See where I rationalized this in my head? And also, see how eating disorders are not always black and white? *jotting down a note for another blog post about eating disorders*
This lasted for many months, but not years. Well, not consecutive years. Sure, there would be a trigger that would send me spiraling, but I was an active kid and busy and so I didn’t think about it as often. Until I went to college. It was there, at age 19, that I had a complete mental breakdown involving a bad stomach bad incident on our dormitory floor. I literally peaced the eff out of there and moved back home with my Mom and sister. That is how bad my coping skills were/are. That was the first time a panic attack landed me in the ER. And would be the beginning of a long road to recovery. I started seeing a therapist and began medication. This helped my general anxiety and I had rescue medication for my panic attacks, but it was bandage, not a cure. I went into “remission” when I met my now husband, but relapsed when I became a Mom.
Where I Am Now With My Phobia
I have three kids, ages 10, 8, and 3. They have all v* at some point or another, and each time has sent me spiraling. Some incidents were worse than others, and I have had long periods of being pretty OK, but I am nowhere near cured, or in a good place. It is an almost daily battle in my own head. I lay awake at night for fear one of the kids will be sick in the middle of the night. If my husband isn’t home, I barely sleep in fear. But that’s the thing. Sometimes the thought and anticipation of v* is worse than the actual act (not that the actual act is pleasant. It’s the total opposite). Because the anticipation is really the fear of the possibility of v* It’s that fear of losing control that somehow forms and clamps onto something physical that is really the problem.
The next step in
my recovery process needs to be cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT). It has shown great success in treating many phobias, but especially emetophobia. I haven’t brought myself to do this yet 1) because I simply haven’t found anyone around me who specializes in it (I will admit I didn’t look hard) and 2) It is essentially “exposure therapy” and will make my brain go there. You know there, the place in your brain you don’t dare allow yourself to go. Yea, I don’t want to do that. Like at all. But I know I need to, if I want to improve my life.
One good piece of information, I did FINALLY eat Arbys again…like 5 years ago! That PTSD seems to be fading
at least.
This was a very emotional and hard post for me to write. I feel like most posts regarding my mental health are. Sometimes it can be painful to go back to such dark times and talk about what makes us our most vulnerable. But I’m so glad I wrote it if it helps educate people and helps someone else who may have emetophobia. Please share this to spread awareness about this phobia and please let me know in the comments if you’ve ever dealt with emetophobia or you’ve even heard of it before. I’d love to hear your thoughts!
Love and Light,
Jacque