in remission

Hello friends. How have the last two years been for you?

I definitely did not intend to stop posting here in such an out of the blue way. Life got very busy, or maybe I should say it's been one giant change after another. I feel like if I put the me who wrote the last post and the current me next to each other, in terms of anxiety, in terms of perspective on life, they would not be recognizable as the same person.

I moved to a new place. I started a new job. I met new people. I had to travel a bit for the job. I had to do public speaking for the job. I had to do a lot of things for the job that forced me to power through intense anxiety, which, as you might expect, has led to me being somewhat desensitized to a lot of situations that used to make me panic (or that I would constantly avoid).

My emetophobia is essentially dormant right now. It's still there, it will always be there, but it's the quietest it's ever been. It basically tells me to avoid sick people and make sure I have clean hands before I eat, and that's about it.

I'm summarizing, because this is a blog, and the actual details could fill a book. At least if I allowed myself to go on as long as I'm naturally inclined to.

But I don't want to give the impression that this muting of my emetophobia happened quickly or easily (or even that healthily). I pushed myself way too hard the past couple years. I powered through way more than I should have, for way too long, and the stress broke me down. I am still experiencing a lot of anxiety (it has just shifted and is currently attached to other things more so than vomit) and depression.

So, as much as I wish I could say this is a perfect success story, that I conquered emetophobia completely and am a role model for anyone still struggling, that is laughably untrue. I'll probably never be free of mental illness; it likes to morph into different forms year to year, but it sticks around.

That being said, emetophobia has been one of those forms for about two decades, and I never thought it would (or could) get to the point of having this little effect on my life.

I remain a walking encyclopedia of tips for coping with emetophobia (this will always be the case, I'm sure), and ... that's all. I'm around. I'm here if anyone needs anything, or if there is something in particular someone wants me to blog about. Email (lilandbody@gmail.com). Or leave a comment. Or contact me through tumblr. Hope everyone is well. Love to you all.

work trip

It’s been a while since I posted. I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about posting. I finally went on that trip for work, and of course the plan was/is to talk about that – what went well and what didn’t. But it’s now been six weeks since it ended, and I wrote (literally) close to fifty pages in my journal about the experience, and I still feel like I don’t have a firm grasp on what I should or want to take away from the whole thing. The sort of “life lesson” – not that everything in life has to result in a life lesson, but this was so big that it feels like it should have changed me or my life in some fundamental way. Maybe that’s just a fantasy of the chronically anxious – “I did something terrifying and I handled it – aren’t I going to get anything out of it?!”

But nothing is really different, other than the fact that I’m not constantly thinking and worrying about this trip anymore. Which is strange in itself, because it took over my brain for so long. It was all-consuming. Almost every night before I fell asleep, I was going over some aspect of it in my head: imagining what I might say to people, what they might say to me, things I might have to do that I didn’t think I could do, what I’d wear, what I’d eat, how I’d get around, everyone I would have to see, how the flights might go, what the airports would be like, all the many ways things could go wrong. I probably should have attempted to stop obsessing, but it was so comforting, even something I looked forward to on some level. Now that I don’t need to do that anymore, it’s like there’s this giant void in my mind.

And I was prepared for that. I knew that when I no longer had this to dread and/or look forward to, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Part of me had been excited about it. It felt meaningful, to be forced by outside circumstances to live and interact with the world to an extreme. To an extent I could never force myself to. Now everything is simple again – calm and quiet, which is nice, but also dull. Time passing and normal routine and no Huge Event looming on the horizon to test my limits. I think if they had suddenly told us at the last minute to forget the whole thing, we weren’t going to do it anymore, I would have been miserable. Incredibly relieved, but also miserable.

In other words, I’m never satisfied. How can you be when you feel two completely opposite things at the same time? It reminds me (again) of what I’ve talked about here before, the connection between anxiety and excitement, between fear and the desire for what you fear. It does seem like the two frequently coexist in me.

I think if the trip had never existed, had never been proposed in the first place, I would be fine. I think I’m happier when my life is calm and quiet and dull. But with the alternative fresh in my mind, it’s very hard for me to let go of the fantasy of having a life that is non-stop excitement, intensity, and stimulation and becoming the type of person who can thrive in a life like that. I’m better off not thinking about it.

Anyway, now I’m home again, and I have all this restless energy left over, and I’ve been trying to direct it towards 1) being more productive at my job 2) writing and submitting poetry.

As for how the trip went, I would say pretty well, overall.

• The closer I got to the trip, the more I felt like the only way I could get through it was to be upfront with people about my anxiety and my limitations. Which I think is a very good idea in theory. Unfortunately, it got a little out of control to the point where I was probably revealing too much (and too quickly, since I was interacting with people who were essentially strangers). Which possibly means that a lot of people I work with now have a skewed idea about just how extreme my anxiety is. And it doesn’t matter that now my mind has settled down again and I’m behaving more normally, because that was their first impression of me, and it’s nearly impossible to correct a first impression.
• Other than that, I felt like the social interaction went better than I had expected. I’m not sure why I feel that way, because I avoided people and I was quiet and when I had to speak, I was almost always panicking that any second I would say something that would somehow ruin my entire life. But I didn’t say anything that ruined my entire life, and other people told me I was coming across as normal (because – see bullet point above – I wouldn’t stop talking about how socially awkward I was), so I’ll count it as a success.
• I had a hard time eating before or during work, which led to me feeling shaky and nauseous most of the time. In the evenings I would eat in my hotel room and feel a little better, then wake up the next morning feeling like shit again.
• Even with feeling sick so much of the time, I did not have any extreme panic attacks and only a couple minor (and short-lived) anxiety attacks.
• I slept better than I thought I would. I woke up early every morning because I was so paranoid that I would sleep through the two different alarms I had set. But it still worked out okay, because I was going to bed early too and didn’t have any trouble falling asleep.
• I was able to concentrate on training. That was one of my biggest worries, that I just wouldn’t be able to focus or retain any of the new information I was supposed to learn, so I was happy that wasn’t the case.
• I work with some incredibly nice people who (many times) went out of their way to make things easier for me. So I’m glad I was more honest about what I wanted/needed than I usually am. I just need more practice navigating the line between ‘self advocacy’ and ‘presenting my entire identity as Anxious Person.’
• There were no major issues with the actual traveling part. I still don’t like flying, especially taking off and landing. But by the time I was flying home I had gotten to the point where I almost felt at ease when we were actually up in the air. 12 flights in about four months, and I finally got a little bit desensitized.
• I’m alive? And still employed? And to my knowledge, I didn’t make anyone hate me. I’m pleased with that outcome.

obsessive thoughts

I can't decide if I'm doing a particularly good job lately of living by the "emetophobia shmemetophobia" motto. I guess in some ways. But I've been noticing many areas where I need serious improvement.

I volunteered to help out at an event at my old college this weekend. I was at a registration table for some of Friday and most of Saturday, which meant having to socialize with a lot of people (and reflect on how terrible my social skills are, but that's a whole other issue).

It was early afternoon on Friday when I first got there, and one of the very first things that happened - I mean, probably within fifteen minutes of me showing up - was that a janitor walked by and stopped to inform me that I should be glad I hadn't been around this morning, because someone had thrown up in that room. She of course didn't know about my phobia and was just following that weird custom of gossiping about any vomit one has seen or heard about recently. I don't quite understand why people love to do this - maybe they feel compelled to because of their own disgust over the situation. I've encountered it many times in my life, but this was probably the first time in several years. It gave me déjà vu, because it's always so similar with the person lowering their voice and giving you this sly and almost gleeful smile. I've got something good, it's really really good, it's going to make me super popular with everyone, because it's about vomit! It's stuff like this that makes me want to stay home and never interact with anyone again.

She didn't give too much detail except to say it was "gross" and that it had all been cleaned up, but after she left I could not stop thinking about it. Wondering where it had been. Was I sitting right on top of it. Wondering, of course, if it had been from sickness or drunkenness or something else. I couldn't let it go, and it tainted the whole weekend for me.

My one success is that I still ate, and I ate pretty normal amounts. I'm proud of myself for that, because having heard this story, I didn't particularly want to anymore. I also only had one brief period (about five to ten seconds) of feeling on the verge of panic because of imaginary "sick" feelings. The rest of the time I felt fine.

But I couldn't bring myself to eat in the campus dining hall (the closest available food) and walked to a restaurant in town instead. The dining hall is buffet style, and I kept thinking the most likely way to catch any sickness going around would be to share food with all the students.

What really bums me out about this is that when I was a student there, I ate in that dining hall almost every single day and usually didn't worry about it that much. Now it seems like a terrible and dangerous idea. I've been thinking about this and realizing that my germophobic tendencies have gotten much worse since college. I guess that makes sense, because these days I am usually at home, which means I feel like I'm rarely in contact with other people's germs. That's not true at all. I still go out places, and even if I didn't, my wife does, and other people come to visit here occasionally. I'm not at all isolated, I just have the illusion of being isolated. It makes me feel safer, and then on the other hand it makes me much more anxious about certain situations and places that I used to be able to handle.

Logically I know that someone has probably thrown up in every single room on that campus, and that it was even happening when I was living there. I lived there for four years and encountered plenty of illnesses. I caught a lot of colds but managed to avoid the stomach bugs. Possibly that was just luck. Either way, it makes much more sense that I would have gotten sick then, while living there, than now, when I was just working there for the weekend. But it didn't feel that way to me. I felt like I left the safety of my apartment and walked into a hotbed of various illnesses.

On both days, the first thing I did when I got home was put my clothes in the hamper and jump in the shower. Then I thought about how that behavior has been gradually developing over the past few years, where I feel the need to get rid of all contact with the outside world when I come home from certain places that I feel were particularly dirty or germ-filled. In some of the books on OCD I've read, they talked about how people with extreme germ-focused OCD will have "outside clothes" and then have to change into their inside/home clothes as soon as they get home. This reminds me of that, and while the thought of me getting to that point seems ridiculous right now, I probably shouldn't dismiss the possibility. Which is unsettling.

All that extra anxiety just because I happened to hear about an instance of vomit that happened that day, even though it's likely happening all the time without me hearing about it. It's so difficult to get something like that out of your head once it's in there. It makes me think about how I watched the original short for the horror movie Mama on Youtube a few weeks ago and ever since then, I can't stop myself from imagining her standing behind me at night when I turn off the lights to go to bed. I normally don't let myself watch anything in the horror genre anymore. It was a tiny act of defiance (against my own limitations) that was clearly oh so stupid.

Sometimes I stop right before I flip the light switch and wait until I can think of something that is not scary that will hold my attention long enough for me to get to the bed. Sometimes that works. I wish that technique was as effective in the emetophobia situations, but there is no destination point (like the bed) where it feels like the obsessive thoughts can be let go, so instead I just have to keep reminding myself to replace them with positive thoughts, over and over and over.  

movie scenes

I didn't write about it at the time, but a few months ago, I finally decided to sit down and force myself to watch some movie vomit scenes I usually avoid. I had seen most of them, but I tend to hide even from those I've already seen by covering my face or leaving the room, just because they make me uncomfortable. But two scenes I saw for the first time, the scene from Drop Dead Gorgeous and the scene from Bridesmaids. I had heard about how graphic these scenes were from other people before seeing the movies, so I made sure to always leave during them.

The Bridesmaids one in particular has already become a frequent mention on emetophobia forums. I've seen a bunch of threads talking about how awful it is, other people disagreeing and saying it's funny, debates starting about whether vomit should ever be shown on TV or in movies.

Of course it should. I may sit around at home and complain about it and get really angry and say it's completely unnecessary. But so is everything else in shows/movies. I'm choosing to watch, and I know what I'm getting myself into. There's no way of knowing what will pop up. I also don't particularly like excessive gore. And I hate how movies about babies almost always include some disgusting poop-related scene. Oh well. Other people like those things and think they add to the drama and/or comedy. Vomit is a somewhat extreme act that can be used for either purpose. Of course they're going to keep taking advantage of that. It's up to me to desensitize myself as much as possible.

I was pretty surprised at how nervous I was. I watched the scenes without any volume at first. Which I would highly recommend, because that made them totally manageable. Once I had seen everything that happened without having heard any of it, I watched them again with a little volume, and then a few more times with normal volume. They were definitely unpleasant. I can't say I ever enjoyed them (even the Bridesmaids one - I didn't think it was that funny), but it was easy to get to the point where I could tolerate them.

With new movies/shows, I won't be prepared. I won't know when the scene is, and I may not have heard the basics of what happens. And a lot of times they like to surprise you when it comes to vomit, to have it come out of nowhere. But I feel like this desensitization exercise has a broader effect than you would think. I haven't been flinching as much when I encounter new TV/movie vomit.

It also helps (with vomit, gore, any gross thing in movies) to remind yourself every time that it's fake. Of course you already know that, but actually thinking about how they did it takes away much of the ickiness. I don't know what they use to make movie vomit, but I'm guessing it's usually some mixture of food. This website talks about how they use a vomit machine to project tomato soup in one movie.

Plus with Drop Dead Gorgeous, Denise Richards is in it, and knowing that she has emetophobia makes me feel oddly comforted about the scene in that movie. I guess it's knowing that someone is involved who understands how I feel (although I don't think she is actually in the vomit scene). Who knows? This may be true of other actors/actresses as well, and they just haven't come forward about it yet.