emetophobia and high school

I hate having emetophobia, obviously. It impacts every area of my life and generally makes everything a little more difficult. But I’ve been thinking lately about what it was like to have this phobia during high school, and I have to say that was probably one of the biggest challenges I’ve ever faced – getting through every single day of those four years while having to deal with this fear. I’m so glad to have that behind me and have the utmost respect for anyone still in that situation, because it is incredibly difficult.

You are pretty much trapped in one building for the entire day, going straight from one class to another. You have all the usual stress of schoolwork, interacting with your classmates (some of them nice, some of them psychotic), interacting with teachers and counselors and administrators and security guards and bus drivers (some of them nice, some of them psychotic), and then when you add anxiety issues and panic attacks to all of that, things start to get incredibly messed up.

I definitely made the situation worse, because I didn’t take care of myself physically in any way. I thought it was fine to get four to six hours of sleep a night. I usually skipped breakfast and sometimes lunch too. Many days I just ate one giant meal after I got home from school and that was it. Plus my diet consisted mostly of things like frozen pizza and soda (yes, tons and tons of caffeine), which I guess is pretty normal for adolescents, but definitely not healthy. I wasn’t even really aware at the time of how unhealthy all this was, but I’m certain it’s the reason I had horrible stomach aches so frequently.

I’ve been remembering some of the ways I used to cope with these stomach aches and the anxiety that came along with them. For the most part, my coping skills back then were pretty unhealthy and I would not recommend them, but I’m going to list everything.

***
1) Probably my main coping mechanism was to dig my nails into my skin (usually the backs of my thumbs or other fingers) as a distraction from my stomach hurting. Not the worst form of self-harm, but it did sometimes leave marks that were embarrassing.

2) I skipped school a lot more than I should have because of feeling “sick” when I woke up in the morning.

3) Along the same lines, I went to the nurse’s office an abnormal amount of times and sometimes went home early from school. This fluctuated. I went through periods where I was in the nurse’s office almost every day, and other times it would be more like once a month.

4) I guess you could say skipping breakfast/lunch was a coping skill I used, although a really bad and counterproductive one. I was even afraid to drink anything at times and would end up dehydrating myself.

5) I would leave class to go to the bathroom just to calm myself down. Getting myself out of the classroom where I felt trapped would usually make me feel a lot better, and then I could convince myself that whatever was happening was mostly in my head. But obviously I could only do this one time per class, so I had to try to save it for when I really needed it. Sometimes I would break down early and then regret it later in the class.

6) In my notes for class, I would draw lines, each one representing a minute, for however many minutes were left in the class. I would watch the clock and keep telling myself “I can get through this next minute. I can get through this next minute” and then scribble through each minute line as the minutes passed.

7) I had a bunch of questions I asked myself to try to determine if I was actually ill, like "if I was home right now, would I still be feeling this way?"

8) I heavily relied on my friends. I was open with almost all of them about my phobia. Most of them understood, even if some didn’t grasp the full extent of the problem. My closest friends knew almost everything about it and were an amazing support system. It was so great to be able to talk to them and have them reassure me. They had mental health issues of their own, and we actually had a simple hand code to communicate with each other about how we were feeling (for when we were around a lot of other people, or when we were in class but sitting across the room from each other). Holding up a hand meant “are you okay?” or “what’s going on?” Then two fingers meant the person was sad, three fingers meant the person was fine, four fingers meant the person was anxious. One finger was the response that only I used. It meant “I feel sick” and everything implied along with that.

After a while we started using these numbers in our notes/emails and when speaking to each other too. I can remember many times answering the question “what’s wrong?” with “I feel one” or “oneness.” Even though “oneness” is basically a philosophy of unity/harmony to everyone else in the world, it will always make me think of feeling anxiety-related sickness.

Anyway, having that code and knowing that I usually had someone around who would understand how I was feeling was a big comfort to me.

***

I would say numbers 5-8 are the only good responses, and #5 is iffy since it’s better to wait out your anxiety than flee the situation you’re in.

I so wish I had been aware of all the anxiety-reducing techniques I know now during those years. I know just making the changes to my diet and sleep schedule would have had such a huge impact on how I felt, and using affirmations, mindfulness, and breathing techniques would have helped with the rest.

But I would recommend telling friends if at all possible. Unless your friends are jerks and you know they would only use the information to make fun of you or torment you (in which case it might be a good idea to get some new friends), having them know takes so much pressure off. Before I started telling people, it felt like this huge weight/burden and this shameful secret I had to keep, and that tended to make the anxiety attacks even worse, feeling like I was not just trapped in the situation and in the feeling of anxiety but also trapped inside my mind, alone, with the secret of what was happening to me.

I still find that in any situation where I feel anxious, if I can say it out loud to the person I’m with, it helps diffuse a lot of the anxiety. And most people are understanding about it, many more than I would have imagined back when I tried to hide it.

In general, I was embarrassed by the way I acted a lot of the time in high school. I’m still embarrassed thinking back on some of these things. So I just want to say that if anyone reading this is in high school and feels this way, cut yourself some slack. Emetophobia and high school don’t mix well. You’re basically a superhero for every day you deal with both. Whatever you can do to get through it (aside from hurting yourself/others), it won’t be that big a deal in the long run. And college (where you have a little more freedom to design your schedule and can include breaks between your classes) is not nearly as terrible.

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.  

happy new year

Happy New Year! I hope 2012 is a great year for everyone. I feel optimistic that it's going to be a better year for me. 2010 was a crazy hurricane / whirlwind of anxiety. 2011 had its intensely bad moments too, but it was better than 2010, so I seem to be heading in the right direction. Also, I am determined to get it together this year and actually do the work I need to do (like eating healthier, doing CBT, etc.). I had to go back to my long list of New Year's resolutions and revise it into a plan that I think is realistically achievable. This is something I've never done before. For some reason, letting go of the idea of "perfection all at once" tends to fill me with a squirmy reluctance to try anything at all. But that reluctant feeling wasn't as strong this year. More evidence of progress!

So the last book I ended up reading in 2011 was Living with Emetophobia by Nicolette Heaton-Harris. I bought it months ago, maybe around September, but I have been putting off reading it, because I had heard that it was mostly a long description of emetophobia, and I had a feeling it would only end up upsetting me or triggering me in some way. I figured it would not be helpful at all but might add more irrational thoughts or behaviors to my list. A few times, reflecting on that, I thought about never reading it. But since it is pretty much the only book on emetophobia out there, and I am writing about the same topic on a regular basis, I had to check it out.

All the reviews I heard were correct. The book mostly explained emetophobia in depth, all the different thoughts or behaviors an emetophobic person might have. I could relate to most of it. Some of it made no sense to me. (Am I the only emetophobe that doesn't feel compelled to look at someone who may be getting sick? When I see a car parked on the side of the road, I shut my eyes or look away and feel no urge to witness what I fear might be happening.) In addition to the explanations and personal stories, there were about four pages of advice on how to cope, including nothing more advanced than deep breathing, distracting yourself, and taking small risks whenever possible to try to expand your comfort zone.

But as bad as I felt it was objectively, I am hesitant to really criticize it, because it exists, at least. It's something that takes emetophobia out of just the Internet world, and I have to think it has had some positive impact in giving the problem more weight / attention. Also, if what an emetophobic is looking for is validation of their issue and the knowledge that they are not alone, the book does provide that.

Unfortunately, I'm way past that. Thanks to the Internet, I've known for years what the name of my issue was, and I've read stories from and talked to many people who are also dealing with it, and I'm betting that's the case for most of the emetophobes of my generation. It's not enough anymore. I'm not looking for someone to swap horror stories with. In fact, I generally feel like it might not be a good idea for me to ever meet another emetophobe in person. The idea of emetophobia support groups all over the country raises some doubts in my mind. Would we not just feed off each other? If half of us in the meeting felt nauseous from anxiety at being at the meeting, and the other half found out about it, wouldn't we all just be scared one of us might be legitimately sick? I don't know.

My real issue with the book is that I felt a little damaged and hopeless after reading it, and that feeling stayed with me all night. I rang in the New Year with a vague feeling of sadness at knowing that this phobia touches every part of my life and that there is no cure for it. I don't think the author meant to leave the reader with that impression, at all. But I feel like she spent 95% of the book talking about all the ways emetophobia manifests in a person's life and then ended the book with the message that it could be contained but not cured. It's hard not to focus on the bad parts of that instead of on the ray of hope that is "containment."

This morning, though, post-sleep, I felt better and able to see it all in a more positive light. Containment may be settling, but that doesn't mean it dooms me to a life of unhappiness. Everyone is settling for something in their life. Like someone might have a bad ankle because of an injury when they were young. Of course it would be better if they didn't have to deal with that, but they do, and they work around it. I know from experience exactly how contained emetophobia can be. In college, it was there, but I rarely felt upset about it. I wasn't doing anything special to contain it. It was just out of luck, I guess, or maybe because I had so much going on (schoolwork, friends, events) to distract me from it.

So that's my hope for 2012, that I can get my phobia as contained as possible. With the knowledge about managing anxiety that I have now, I should be able to reach a level of containment even better than the one from college.

And if I want to be wildly optimistic, I have heard of some emetophobes who have been able to cure themselves. Plus with more research into it, maybe a cure that works for everyone will be discovered / developed. It's possible.

wisdom teeth

Not much has been happening. My anxiety has been extremely manageable since we got back home from the trip. I'm amazed - I definitely wasn't expecting things to go this well. But since they are, and I have nothing new to report, I'm going to post an old story. I got my wisdom teeth removed about two years ago. It was an experience I was dreading, because I felt sure it would put me in danger of throwing up. But it actually turned out completely fine, and I consider it one of my greatest successes ever. I'm so glad I didn't chicken out, because now I know I don't have to worry about them ever again.

So it started out with a consultation with the dentist who was going to perform the surgery. That part was awful. He was definitely not skilled in dealing with anxiety issues. I had envisioned that the consultation would be in a quiet back room with a closed door, but it was in a little examining room right next to the front desk, and he left the door open the whole time. And he talked incredibly loudly. I was of course trying to get all my points across the same way I had rehearsed them earlier, but after I mentioned the phobia, he started talking (shouting) about the possibility of me getting sick and how I was afraid of getting sick, and I was very aware of the fact that the people at the front desk could hear every word. I guess dentists don't expect you to be self-conscious.

He didn't have any comforting information either. He said that even prescribing me a strong anti-emetic might not keep me from getting sick, because 1) most people get sick immediately after the procedure before they've had a chance to take it and 2) people won't usually take it until they start feeling nauseous. Plus if they are going to sedate you, any kind of sedation makes you nauseous, so he said they already add anti-emetic to the drip and that none of it is any guarantee. Then he said 5% of people or 1 in 20 will throw up, and usually it is from the pain medication. He recommended sedation for me, based on my X-rays, and he said he thought everything would be uncomplicated for me. But obviously he didn't see the vomiting thing as a big deal, no matter how much I tried to make him see it that way. He prescribed me two anti-emetics, a regular one and then a more expensive one that he said was super strong. This was my first experience with prescribed anti-emetics. I later found out the super strong one was Zofran. Of course I planned to use that one, because I wanted the strongest one possible.

I was pretty freaked out when I walked out of there, but it still seemed like I could possibly avoid getting sick. I decided I would take the anti-emetic before the procedure, I would not be sedated, and I would not take any prescribed pain medication.

The morning of the procedure, I took the Zofran before even leaving the house. It dissolved on my tongue easily and tasted okay but had kind of a bad after-taste. I didn't notice any bad side effects from it either. I also had three 45-minute Kathy Griffin comedy routines on my iPod so I would have something really hilarious to distract me during the surgery.

The first thing they did was put two giant Q-tips in my mouth with a bad-tasting goo on them to start numbing my mouth. Pre-numbing to get me ready for the long needle that really numbs you. Then the doctor gave me about eight shots with the long needle. I only felt an uncomfortable pinching sensation. After that, they told me good job, I had gotten through the worst part of it. I did not believe them. But it was true. I felt no more pain after that.

I was left alone for a while, and my mouth, lips, chin and even the sides of my face up to my ears got extremely numb. Then the doctor came back, and he and an assistant went right into the procedure. It all started so fast I hadn't had time to start my iPod, so I was fumbling with it while they continued shoving tools in my mouth. I finally got it playing, and as soon as I did, I shut my eyes really tight because I knew it would be bad to see anything that was going on. They started drilling, and the drill was so loud I couldn't hear the iPod anyway. I was just catching snatches in-between, and I couldn't really concentrate on it, because I was focused on the pressure and the sounds and wondering exactly what they were doing to me and marveling at the idea that they were hurting me extremely badly, but I could not feel a thing. They were having a pleasant conversation the entire time. I wasn't really paying attention, but they were laughing and talking like they were just sitting down having coffee.

I only had two wisdom teeth, both on the bottom. They started with the right side, and after probably three to five minutes at the most, they stuck a wad of gauze in there and switched to the other side. I wondered if they were done but couldn't really believe it could be so. They spent the same amount of time on the left side, and then they stuck a wad of gauze there too and said I was finished. I "said" (mumbled) "really?" and they said yes, and the doctor said that I definitely wasn't a patient that needed to be sedated, and that most people needed to because they couldn't handle the stress of it. I was shocked by all this, shocked that it was over, shocked that I was pretty comfortable the whole time, shocked that they were making it sound like I was one of their least anxious patients.

That was it. Then the assistant gave me a speech about how to take care of my mouth and what I should eat that day (cold, soft foods). I had a bunch of questions I wanted to ask her, but I couldn't speak. I don't remember what they were, but I guess they weren't that important, because it all turned out okay. Later on, when the anesthesia wore off, my mouth felt extremely sore, but it was not the terrible pain I had heard described by other people. I think I took some Aleve for the pain, nothing else.

The end. I know the experience will be different for each person, but I wanted to share my happy ending. Everyone I had ever talked to about it had made it sound like a nightmare of excruciating pain and unavoidable sickness. Maybe I got lucky, or maybe people just love to exaggerate this type of story in a bizarre "whose life sucks more" competition. I couldn't say for sure. With all the horror stories, it was only my fear of facing worse problems in the future from not getting the teeth removed that pushed me into it, but I'm really so glad I got it over with.

vacation update

I'm still on vacation. I have had Internet access but up until now have been either too busy or too overwhelmed to even think about what to write here. I'd love to make this entry have a coherent message, but I'm guessing it's going to be more of a blow-by-blow recounting of events. I haven't gotten the best sleep this week.

The first two days were the traveling days. We drove for six or seven hours each day. We got lost twice, once around NYC, once around Philadelphia. I managed my anxiety pretty well while in the car, except for the fact that I hardly ate or drank, because I felt "nauseous" a lot of the time. It was the first nights in the two different hotels that really threw me. It took hours of reassurance from my wife (that I wasn't going to throw up, go crazy, die, or always be this way) before I felt okay enough to get any sleep.

As is usually the case, two days of bad sleep and inadequate eating/drinking led to me feeling horrible. When I woke up Tuesday morning, I felt slightly less anxious but couldn't get up and walk around without feeling nauseous and dizzy. I decided I needed to cancel all my plans for that day and just spent the day in the hotel room forcing myself to eat and drink as much as possible. It was upsetting / frustrating, but necessary. Sometimes the hardest thing about all this is having to accept that I can't do whatever I want whenever I want. I get jealous of other people who can keep pushing themselves without taking a break, who could have packed a million activities and social interactions into a vacation this long. Sometimes I have to work within my limits, and for now, sometimes that includes missing out on things I was really looking forward to. But I'm sure that won't be the case forever.

I did visit my family briefly that night, because I thought I might get a guilt trip if I didn't make it to their house within 24 hours of arriving in the city. That went well, no anxiety attack there, so I knew I was heading back in the direction of normal.

The next day, finally, was like actually being on vacation instead of in hell. I felt almost 100% better physically. First thing in the morning, I went back over to my parents' house, because now my older sister was there with my 15-month-old nephew. I got to meet him for the first time. He wasn't sick at all. I still worried he might throw up on me whenever he coughed, but he didn't. I spent a couple hours with him, and we played with all his toys together. He is adorable, and I love him so much. Spending that time with him really cheered me up.

I also went to the company I work for and saw all the coworkers I haven't seen in two years, which was awesome. I love them all too and have missed actually being around them. My anxiety got really high again though. I think it was partially because I'm not used to being around so many people who know me and are all looking at me, and partially because I knew some of them had been sick recently. I ended up spending a few minutes hiding in the bathroom until I didn't feel so nauseous and shaky. I didn't even really care though. I was so happy to be there that I couldn't muster up the usual annoyance I feel at myself. Seeing them plus seeing my nephew made me feel certain that this trip was a good idea, that it was all worth it, even though it has been challenging. Besides, I'm almost positive I'm not going to get sick. I took Emergen-C for a few days before we left, I take a regular multivitamin every day, and I'm generally very physically healthy and have a great immune system.

The afternoon was a lot of fun too. I hung out in the hotel room with my wife and an old friend of ours from high school. I went to see my grandmother, who is the sweetest woman in the world. I don't think I know anyone who knows how to love people as unconditionally as she does. In the evening, I went back to my parents' again to hang out for a while. Despite doing all these different things, I managed to eat well the entire day!

Today I'm "embracing" my limits again. Both my family and my wife's family are having Thanksgiving meals / gatherings, but I decided not to go to either. I really wanted to go to the one with my wife's family, because I haven't gotten to see my sister-in-law or mother-in-law very much while here. But both gatherings are in another city, and I know a long drive, lots of people, and pressure to eat is likely going to result in me feeling "nauseous" for hours. I know I could handle it, but I really don't feel like forcing myself to get through something else. So I'm hanging out in the hotel for most of the day and seeing my family one more time tonight after they get back from their party. We're leaving early tomorrow morning, and possibly these last two days of driving will be just as bad as the first two days, so I'm sure it's a good idea to have a "chill day" before that.

This trip has really driven home the fact that there is a lot more work I need to do in order to get to the point where I can function the way I want to. I'm definitely going to be recommitting to recovery hardcore when we get home. Less thinking about and resenting my anxiety all the time and more actually doing the things that will help.

Oh, but the good news is that I didn't take any anti-nausea, anti-emetic, or anti-anxiety medicine on this trip. I either talked to my wife or used word searches and crosswords, my emWave, and affirmations to calm down. I'm really proud of that, and of how well I managed to eat overall despite feeling "sick" for hours every day. I suppose I can go as far as to say that this trip has been a good representation of the "emetophobia shmemetophobia" mentality. Not everything went perfectly, but I bounced back like a badass.

happy thanksgiving!

We're leaving early tomorrow morning on our trip. I'm trying to be excited, but I'm more on the nervous end of the spectrum. I do think we are extremely well prepared. In addition to the regular luggage, we packed two extra bags:

-- an "anti-anxiety" bag. It has my thermometer, anti-nausea medicine, a couple of my anxiety workbooks, word searches / crossword puzzles, and relaxation CDs. I also have 10 affirmations on notecards and my emWave in my purse.

-- a food bag. I didn't want to have to rely on whatever was around, restaurant-wise, both while driving and also when we get to the hotel. So we packed things to eat - some peanut butter sandwiches, chips, pretzels, and Luna bars.

We've got tons of music to listen to in the car. We've spaced out the trip so it's not too busy and overwhelming. I've just been trying to distract myself from my worries about it. If I'm having a hard time doing that, I try to think about it as a series of manageable steps rather than the whole trip at once. The first step is to get through six hours of driving tomorrow. That's it. I can handle that, and once I have, then I can think about the next part.

more on road trips

The test run drive went really well. I didn't even need to get out my written affirmations. It was a quiet, non-stressful drive. Most of the time we were surrounded by farmland. On the way there, I could feel the anxiety start in my stomach at times, and I just tried to bring my attention back to the external world - the music playing, the scenery. I read somewhere (no clue where, my brain is way overloaded with self-help books and websites) about playing a game with yourself to calm down where you look for something that starts with the letter "A", then the letter "B", etc. So I used that to distract myself too.

Sometimes when I start to "feel sick" I view it as a kind of black and white transition where I've left the realm of calmness / happiness, and that's it - now there's no going back. But on this drive I happened to be able to tap into logic (for once) and realize that only a few seconds had passed between feeling absolutely fine and feeling "off" in some way. Obviously I still was absolutely fine and was able to return to feeling that way with a little effort.

I felt a little "sick" after eating in the restaurant too, but it didn't last long, maybe about five to ten minutes of the drive back home. All in all, I'm super pleased with how it went, although I do keep thinking about how tame a challenge it was compared to the much longer trip coming up. My main areas of concern are:

-- the drive itself. We'll be on the road longer, there will definitely be more traffic and crazy drivers. Plus having to eat during the drive.

-- staying in a hotel. The last time I actually threw up, I was in a hotel, on vacation with my family. I know some emetophobes have bad associations with certain foods because they were sick after eating them. That didn't happen to me, but I guess I associate hotels in general (well, they do all look alike and smell alike) with the experience and feel slightly unsafe in them.

-- I'll be meeting my nephew for the first time. He's a little over a year old. I might have to hold him. Part of me really wants to. I've loved him since the day he was born and the first pictures went up on facebook. But part of me worries he will spit up on me. Or get sick on me? At what age does it stop being called spit-up? I have no clue, but really it makes no difference to me.

-- eating in general on the trip, eating away from home, eating around other people. I need more practice with this.

We are planning to have a couple more of these "test run" trips, if we have time to fit them in. The goal for the next one is to go eat somewhere and then go out shopping instead of coming straight back home.