There arent many things in life that scare me.
Bugs, heights, and murky ocean water, the usual stuff.
Oh, and vomit.
AdShooter / Getty Images
Vomit is my gravest fear.
Throwing up is a hellish nightmare I wouldnt wish on my worst enemy.
I know what youre thinking.
“Terrified of the smell, taste, and loss of control, I’ve managed to keep the act of vomiting at bay for upwards of 10 years at a time."
Big whoopno one likes to vomit.
I reasoned with a God that I wasnt even sure existed.
Id rather have strep throat or break my arm than have to throw up, ever again.
As the years passed, episodes of the stomach flu and carsickness further cemented my fear.
This was around the same time I began keeping a mental catalog of all the times Id been sick.
From that day on, I refused to eat linguini or wear my bright-green shorts ever again.
When I hit puberty, things took a turn for the worse.
I became soobsessive compulsivethat I couldnt even write, punch in, or say the word vomit aloud.
I was completely unaware that my fear had escalated into a panic disorder.
But despite my suffering, I still refused to share my secret obsession.
But then something peculiar happened.
I wasnt alone in my battle!
I was completely moved by her.
Suddenly I had the confidence to start researching online.
I slowly worked up the courage to tell my parents.
They were wary at first, but finally decided to enroll me in cognitive behavioral therapy.
I felt a lot better.
My therapist also suggested I seek help from a psychiatrist, who prescribed me antidepressants.
Her explanation of anxiety and panic made it all seem so simple.
In healthy amounts, anxiety serves an important role.
For most people, it triggers a heightened sense of awareness to fight off potential threats.
For me, these physical effects included my arch nemesis: nausea.
To help moderate my imbalance, she prescribed Paxil, a selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitor.
Paxil worked like magic.
Within a few weeks, I felt a tremendous weight lifted from my shoulders.
I was still afraid of vomit, but no longer let it control my life.
My obsessive-compulsive disorder also slowly diminished.
It was so much easier to concentrate in school, interact with friends, and enjoy being a teenager.
I didnt have to hide my phobia any more; it simply didnt make itself present.
The only downside was the medications side effects, including night sweats and loss of libido.
My doctor shuffled me through three different medications over the course of six years before finally settling on Effexor.
I still had to deal with the night sweats, but otherwise, felt almost entirely detached from myanxiety.
I even threw up on three separate occasions!
What a triumph it was to celebrate vomit, instead of obsess over it.
After three breezy years on this wonder drug, I began to downplay the mental illness it was masking.
If I were to slowly titrate my dose, would my phobia still hold true?
As a full-grown woman, perhaps I had a better handle on anxiety.
I found a new psychiatrist that offered to help me withdraw.
He was supportive, but warned me that my panic disorder was likely to resurface.
Even so, I insisted, and six months later, was 100 percent Effexor-free.
I had some mild anxiety, but found relief by exercising my old coping mechanisms.
I even reenrolled intalk therapy.
But then, out of the blue, thepanic attackscrept back in.
Id wake up in the middle of the night, heart racing, terrified to move.
The feeling was all too familiar.
Just as before, I was seized with what felt like never-ending bouts of anxiety-fueled nausea.
I realized that I couldnt close my eyes and pretend the fear was gone.
No, to deal with it, I was going to have to face it and embrace it.
For over 20 years, Ive felt nothing but shameful of my phobia.
The opposite action of shame is to share.
So here it is, in writing, for the entire world to see: My name is Holly.
Im a 26-year-old woman, and I have emetophobia.
Phobias You Won’t Believe Exist:
