I'M AFRAID TO EAT SECOND-DAY HAM AND IT'S RUINING MY LIFE…
🔈CLICK HERE TO LISTEN TO THIS BLOG IN AUDIO FORM🔈
Trigger Warning: This post contains discussions about emetophobia (fear of vomiting) and mentions of past experiences with vomiting. If you are sensitive to this topic, please proceed with caution or feel free to skip this post.
If you’ve known me for more than five minutes, you’ve likely already heard me mention my emetophobia. For those unfamiliar, Google defines it as "a phobia causing overwhelming, intense anxiety about vomit." In simpler terms? I’m deathly afraid of people throwing up, or worse, throwing up myself. Growing up, I assumed everyone had this same panic. That is, until I went to university and discovered that people were willingly engaging in 'tactical voms' during nights out, like some sort of casual party trick. At 17, it became clear: I was not like the others. I was special, by which I mean, a fucking freak.
Therapy? Yeah, I tried that last year. Turns out it’s expensive to unlearn years of trauma. Shout out to the QLD government for their so-called “care plans” that still left me $130 out of pocket. But in those brief sessions, I did manage to uncover the likely origin of this phobia. Buckle up for childhood trauma time.
Picture this: a young me, violently ill from food poisoning, with a carpet cleaner staring at my mother and saying, “Bloody hell, what the fuck did you feed this child?!” Mortification, Level 1000. Fast forward a few years: I’m in the third grade, mid-classroom vomit. Instead of sympathy, my teacher yelled at me to run. Ah yes, nothing soothes an already embarrassing situation like being screamed at while you’re actively expelling your guts. Upon returning to school, classmates made snide remarks about the lingering smell and the stain left behind, because kids are sweet like that. All of this resulted in me switching classes, which only raised more questions from a fresh batch of confused eight-year-olds. Traumatising? You bet.
Thanks to my therapist, we’ve pinpointed the connection between my emetophobia and embarrassment. Vomiting is uncontrollable, and being publicly shamed for something you can’t control? Well, that messes with you. Vomiting should be just another bodily function, but for me, it’s a life-ruining, soul-crushing disaster.
I can recall every instance I’ve witnessed someone vomiting. Those memories haunt me like they’re stored in my brain’s "what-the-frack-is-wrong-with-you" folder. Writing about this? Yeah, I’m sweating bullets as we speak. I actually had to take a break and devour a bag of chips while watching Friends reruns just to get through this post. The things I do for art.
So, what’s the deal with the ham? Well, my phobia has some weird side effects, like the fact that I throw out perfectly good leftovers for fear of them turning on me. I can’t ride public transport without the looming terror that someone will hurl on the train, as one unfortunate soul did during my uni days. Being around drunk people is a nightmare because, newsflash, they’re ticking spew bombs. And if I let you into my car after you’ve had a few, just know you’re one of the select few who’ve earned my undying trust. Cherish that.
I guess the point of this post is to spread awareness about how real and crippling this phobia can be. Please, for the love of all things good, don’t fake gag around someone with emetophobia. Yes, people actually do this. I once had an ex who thought it was hilarious to send me reels of people gagging or being sick. To reference last week's blog, I truly cannot with men.
Before my therapy sessions ended, we started exposure therapy, no, not the kind where someone vomits on my shoes, but baby steps. I’ll leave you with a list of milestones I’ve hit since trying to tackle this. I’ve caught a bus. Drank coffee with full cream milk. Had a sip of alcohol. Watched Bridesmaids all the way through. Eaten fresh cream. Ridden a roller coaster. Left the house without my anti-nausea medication. Taken an Uber with drunk friends. I’m basically a warrior at this point.
And while I joke, this is a real issue. If someone tells you they have a phobia about vomiting, don’t gaslight them into thinking they’re overreacting. I’m lucky to have friends who genuinely get it. Just last weekend, I was walking back to my car after a gig in the Valley, and my best friend took one look at a stumbling, clearly-about-to-vomit man and said, “You run ahead. I’ll handle this.” She grabbed my piano and pushed me on ahead. She’s a hero and I love her and all my other friends who don’t make me feel crazy about this.
Emetophobia makes you feel like a burden. I cancel plans, avoid public transport, and feel utterly helpless when a friend gets sick. It’s not glamorous, and it’s definitely not my best trait. But I’m determined to overcome it. Much like an arachnophobe who one day picks up a spider, I will... well, I’m not planning on holding anyone’s vomit, but you get the point. We’ll get there.
Wishing you all an exceptional week, or perhaps just an average one. Average is perfectly fine.
Song recommendation of the week: ‘b i g f e e l i n g s’ by WILLOW
🎵CLICK HERE TO LISTEN TO MY SONG OF THE WEEK🎵