Brave...not ever a word I'd use to describe myself, at least not in the past 5 years. I'm the type of person who would boast about not being afraid of a haunted house, but turn heel as soon as I went inside. Now don't get me wrong I love being scared sometimes, I'm the first in line for a scary movie and love that adrenaline rush when something pops out on the screen.
But in the past year I have put the word brave back into my vocabulary. I did something I never would have imagined I could do. I stepped out of my comfort zone and took a leap of faith. I moved away, went to school, tried to pull this fear off from the top shelf, and for once put what was best for myself first in my life.
Like everything else in my life, this involves a long story...
I remember the day so well. I was in the middle of having a panic attack for the fifth time that day. My mom was pressuring me and did not understand what was wrong, which caused her to get mad at me. To her I was just being lazy in not picking a college to go to. I was just about to complete my second year of community college and needed to find another place to transfer to. But that included me moving away and being taken out of my comfort zone. I was not ready for that, and had the constant nagging of people close to me telling me that I could NOT do it.
I was fed up, my mom had come in and yelled at me again for being so apathetic towards not wanting to do anything with my life. Which was true, I didn't even know what I wanted to do. She told me to go online and find a school or else she was gonna kick me out of the house after I graduated from the college I was at now. But I didn't want to, I stayed in bed crying most of the night, missing dinner.
I don't know what happened next, I don't really remember what exactly was going through my mind, but I wanted to drive. I needed to get out of the house and go somewhere. Without my mother noticing I slipped out the back door and hopped into my jeep. I drove for about an hour, not caring which way I went. Eventually I got lost (of course) and that caused me to panic. I didn't know the area too well and decided to turn around in a school parking lot. When I pulled in I noticed that all the lights were on, which was odd for 9 o'clock at night. There were many cars in the parking lot as well, and for some reason I was nosy. There was a security guard who then came up to my window (scared the living heck out of me) she asked if I was here for the college fair...I was dumbstruck and I really don't remember what I said, but before I knew it I was walking into a packed auditorium with over a hundred representatives from schools around the country.
I'm not a huge fan of crowds, but I didn't care tonight. I walked through the rows of tables, snatching brochures and other little freebies. It was so overwhelming! I walked to the back, away from all the crowds. Off in the corner by itself was a table with a guy. Nobody hoovered around it, and I decided to make my way over to it. The green banner on the table said "Slippery Rock University." I had never heard of it, and was pretty sure that it was the coolest named college ever! I grabbed a brochure and had a conversation with the guy sitting there. He was so informative. He told me all about the school. Showed me pictures of the beautiful landscape, all the activities and majors, and the town around it. And for some reason I fell in love with it. I took home as many bits of information I could from that table, and even signed up to receive a newsletter. The guy who had seemed bored before I showed up handed me a t shirt with the school's logo on it before I left.
I drove home thinking about Slippery Rock, thinking about all the possible majors to choose from. The only downside was was that it was six hours away from home, but never for a second did I doubt I couldn't do it. It felt right, and no stupid anxiety was going to ruin that for me! I got home (much to my mothers freaking out and asking where I had been.) I unloaded my pile of pamphlets onto the table in front of my mom without saying a word, and marched upstairs with a smile on my face. For once I felt like I was taking back my life.
Skip forward a few months to where I went out and visited the school (loved it!) Came home and was so excited. I sent in my application and got accepted right away! I was nervous and excited at the same time, but despite many people telling me that I was too much of a "coward" to go away, I wasn't going to let that stop me. Like I said, I wouldn't use the word brave to describe myself, but in this instance that's all that I could be!
Monday, January 9, 2012
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Emetophobia: The Begining
Before I begin anything else, I want to share how this all started. If you had asked me a couple years ago if I thought I would ever be telling strangers online what I consider to be my closest guarded secret, I would have laughed but here I am...
Anyway I can remember it perfectly. It was Christmas Eve of 2005 (we emets associate dates a lot) but I was having a great day, all ready for Christmas, then disaster struck. I didn't feel well (still not sure if I ever had a stomach bug that day) but you know what you do when you usually feel sick, you lay down and try to go to sleep. This time was different though...as I lay in bed, I was having a panic attack. In my mind I kept repeating "I don't want to throw up, I don't want to throw up..." Like I said before nobody likes to get sick, but I was petrified. When my mom came to check on me, I told her what I was thinking and she looked at me funny but sat with me for a long time as I cried.
The next few months were a downward spiral. I was pained with stomach aches constantly. I could not sleep, eat, and had a complete apathy towards most things I used to like doing. Obviously my family noticed that I wasn't myself and my mom tried to help me. I told her that my stomach constantly hurt and I was afraid if I ate that I would throw up. I can't blame her for not understanding and not knowing what to do. She brushed it aside, but I continued to decline. I would have panic attacks every night, which in turn would make my stomach hurt more. I would get into these ritualistic habits like washing my hands every three minutes, and thinking if I didn't do something a certain way, it would somehow make me sick.
It sounds crazy I know. But it was probably one of the darkest times in my life. I disowned my friends because I was afraid to leave the house, my grades declined big time, I started to lose my hair, and I dropped 30 pounds in almost two months. Well my mom saw my decline; she called the doctor and I went in. I remember sitting there as the doctor poked at me and told me it was all in my head. When I told him it wasn't, he started tossing out words like cancer and pregnancy (talk about stress.) But even with all these ideas with what was wrong, I got sent home and told to "not think about it" and to eat to gain weight. Every week after that I had to go to the doctor to get checked out, and I gained very little weight.
During this time it was in the beginning of winter, and you know what that means...stomach viruses. To add to my already queasy stomach, I had to hear about other people around me being sick. Not a day in school went by where I wouldn't go down to the nurse in a panic for tums. My life had no meaning. I lost all my friends because I turned into a zombie. I ate lunch alone, and sometimes just sneak into the bathroom to cry. Nobody understood what I was going through. Even my parents offered little comfort because this was out of their control.
I was advised to seek therapy, but that was both expensive and a waste of time. Of all the five therapists I went to, none of them knew what to do with me. I would tell them that I felt nauseous 24/7 and afraid of getting sick, and they would say "well I've never heard of that one before." Eventually in school a teacher got concerned when she saw me crying and she signed me up to sit with the guidance councilor. If I thought I had hit bottom at this point, I was wrong.
The day I hit bottom was around February of 2006. I was sitting with my guidance councilor for second time that day. Earlier that morning I had witnessed a kid get sick, failed a math test, and lost my hand sanitizer (worst nightmare) as I sat there crying hysterically she asked if I ever thought about killing myself...now I'm not going to say that I never thought about it, but I never harped on it nor was it a serious thought in my mind. (I recently had a cousin commit suicide earlier that year) I said 'no' but then she asked if I ever thought about how the world would be if I wasn't born. Well in true It's a Wonderful Life fashion I responded..."Yeah I guess" I wasn't really aware of the consequence of my answer would be at that point.
Within 20 minutes I was sitting in the principle's office surrounded by faculty. My mom was soon rushed in, tears pouring down her face. I didn't know what was going on. I was informed after a meeting with the faculty and my mother, that I was a 'danger to myself and other students' and that I was going to be sent away to a mental health center till they deemed me 'not suicidal.' Without being able to say goodbye to my friends or some family I spent a week in this dingy little place surrounded by people my age who had been raped, beaten, and some who had done those things to others.
For a week I was not allowed to talk to people outside the center, I was forced to eat food, and sleep alone in a dark strange room. I was miserable. But then came an angel. A young doctor came to see me one day along with a the therapist I had been seeing. He said that he thought I may actually have an internal problem that was causing me discomfort. So off I went to the hospital where my stomach was X-rayed. Inside they found to their surprise, four...count 'em FOUR stomach ulcers. My stomach was in ruin and my esophagus was damaged. Well thank God for that man. I was discharged with a heavy duty antacid, and allowed to go back to school.
I got physically better in no time, but mentally I was still damaged. I was still afraid to eat and I was still alone. My saving grace that year was joining the spring musical where I made dozens of friends! (I credit them for saving my life everyday) I got better, the fear was gone...so I thought.
Although I am nothing what I used to be in regards to this phobia, I am not without fear. I have been able to get a better grasp of it in recent years, but in to way is it under control. Even 5 years later my heart skips a beat if I hear about someone being sick and lose my appetite, or stay up till the wee hours of the morning (like right now lol.) But that is my story, not my best I'm afraid but just a chapter in my life!
Anyway I can remember it perfectly. It was Christmas Eve of 2005 (we emets associate dates a lot) but I was having a great day, all ready for Christmas, then disaster struck. I didn't feel well (still not sure if I ever had a stomach bug that day) but you know what you do when you usually feel sick, you lay down and try to go to sleep. This time was different though...as I lay in bed, I was having a panic attack. In my mind I kept repeating "I don't want to throw up, I don't want to throw up..." Like I said before nobody likes to get sick, but I was petrified. When my mom came to check on me, I told her what I was thinking and she looked at me funny but sat with me for a long time as I cried.
The next few months were a downward spiral. I was pained with stomach aches constantly. I could not sleep, eat, and had a complete apathy towards most things I used to like doing. Obviously my family noticed that I wasn't myself and my mom tried to help me. I told her that my stomach constantly hurt and I was afraid if I ate that I would throw up. I can't blame her for not understanding and not knowing what to do. She brushed it aside, but I continued to decline. I would have panic attacks every night, which in turn would make my stomach hurt more. I would get into these ritualistic habits like washing my hands every three minutes, and thinking if I didn't do something a certain way, it would somehow make me sick.
It sounds crazy I know. But it was probably one of the darkest times in my life. I disowned my friends because I was afraid to leave the house, my grades declined big time, I started to lose my hair, and I dropped 30 pounds in almost two months. Well my mom saw my decline; she called the doctor and I went in. I remember sitting there as the doctor poked at me and told me it was all in my head. When I told him it wasn't, he started tossing out words like cancer and pregnancy (talk about stress.) But even with all these ideas with what was wrong, I got sent home and told to "not think about it" and to eat to gain weight. Every week after that I had to go to the doctor to get checked out, and I gained very little weight.
During this time it was in the beginning of winter, and you know what that means...stomach viruses. To add to my already queasy stomach, I had to hear about other people around me being sick. Not a day in school went by where I wouldn't go down to the nurse in a panic for tums. My life had no meaning. I lost all my friends because I turned into a zombie. I ate lunch alone, and sometimes just sneak into the bathroom to cry. Nobody understood what I was going through. Even my parents offered little comfort because this was out of their control.
I was advised to seek therapy, but that was both expensive and a waste of time. Of all the five therapists I went to, none of them knew what to do with me. I would tell them that I felt nauseous 24/7 and afraid of getting sick, and they would say "well I've never heard of that one before." Eventually in school a teacher got concerned when she saw me crying and she signed me up to sit with the guidance councilor. If I thought I had hit bottom at this point, I was wrong.
The day I hit bottom was around February of 2006. I was sitting with my guidance councilor for second time that day. Earlier that morning I had witnessed a kid get sick, failed a math test, and lost my hand sanitizer (worst nightmare) as I sat there crying hysterically she asked if I ever thought about killing myself...now I'm not going to say that I never thought about it, but I never harped on it nor was it a serious thought in my mind. (I recently had a cousin commit suicide earlier that year) I said 'no' but then she asked if I ever thought about how the world would be if I wasn't born. Well in true It's a Wonderful Life fashion I responded..."Yeah I guess" I wasn't really aware of the consequence of my answer would be at that point.
Within 20 minutes I was sitting in the principle's office surrounded by faculty. My mom was soon rushed in, tears pouring down her face. I didn't know what was going on. I was informed after a meeting with the faculty and my mother, that I was a 'danger to myself and other students' and that I was going to be sent away to a mental health center till they deemed me 'not suicidal.' Without being able to say goodbye to my friends or some family I spent a week in this dingy little place surrounded by people my age who had been raped, beaten, and some who had done those things to others.
For a week I was not allowed to talk to people outside the center, I was forced to eat food, and sleep alone in a dark strange room. I was miserable. But then came an angel. A young doctor came to see me one day along with a the therapist I had been seeing. He said that he thought I may actually have an internal problem that was causing me discomfort. So off I went to the hospital where my stomach was X-rayed. Inside they found to their surprise, four...count 'em FOUR stomach ulcers. My stomach was in ruin and my esophagus was damaged. Well thank God for that man. I was discharged with a heavy duty antacid, and allowed to go back to school.
I got physically better in no time, but mentally I was still damaged. I was still afraid to eat and I was still alone. My saving grace that year was joining the spring musical where I made dozens of friends! (I credit them for saving my life everyday) I got better, the fear was gone...so I thought.
Although I am nothing what I used to be in regards to this phobia, I am not without fear. I have been able to get a better grasp of it in recent years, but in to way is it under control. Even 5 years later my heart skips a beat if I hear about someone being sick and lose my appetite, or stay up till the wee hours of the morning (like right now lol.) But that is my story, not my best I'm afraid but just a chapter in my life!
Emetophobia: (n) Pain in the A$$
I think it is appropriate that before I go into what my life is like dealing with Emetophobia, we should start as square one...
What is Emetophobia???
*drum roll please*
Emetophobia is the fear of..........Vomiting!
Yup you heard me right. It is the fear of vomiting (ie. get sick, heave, hurl, puke, ralph, throw up.) Now I know what you are thinking, nobody likes to vomit. It sucks! But Emetophobia is more than that! As a sufferer of this fear I will go to extreme measures to avoid being sick or being around people who have been sick (wait till you hear some of my stories) Yes its irrational, and NO not thinking about it will not make it go away, I've tried millions of times.
So yes I know it's weird, I honestly would rather be afraid of ANYTHING else in this world. Try to imagine how many times you hear about people being sick...Now imagine that when you heard someone talk about it, your body breaks out into a sweat, you go numb, fight or flight takes over, and you start to feel like you can't breathe. Yup it's not fun! Not only that but even the tiniest twinge of pain in our stomachs send us into a full blown panic sometimes, in fear that we are coming down with something! And what makes it worse is that many times when people panic in general, their stomach begins to hurt...vicious cycle then starts again.
Believe me I have not even scratched the surface of what it is like to live one day with this phobia, but now that we know what it is we can move into more detail.
What is Emetophobia???
*drum roll please*
Emetophobia is the fear of..........Vomiting!
Yup you heard me right. It is the fear of vomiting (ie. get sick, heave, hurl, puke, ralph, throw up.) Now I know what you are thinking, nobody likes to vomit. It sucks! But Emetophobia is more than that! As a sufferer of this fear I will go to extreme measures to avoid being sick or being around people who have been sick (wait till you hear some of my stories) Yes its irrational, and NO not thinking about it will not make it go away, I've tried millions of times.
So yes I know it's weird, I honestly would rather be afraid of ANYTHING else in this world. Try to imagine how many times you hear about people being sick...Now imagine that when you heard someone talk about it, your body breaks out into a sweat, you go numb, fight or flight takes over, and you start to feel like you can't breathe. Yup it's not fun! Not only that but even the tiniest twinge of pain in our stomachs send us into a full blown panic sometimes, in fear that we are coming down with something! And what makes it worse is that many times when people panic in general, their stomach begins to hurt...vicious cycle then starts again.
Believe me I have not even scratched the surface of what it is like to live one day with this phobia, but now that we know what it is we can move into more detail.
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