Member-only story
Living with a Debilitating Phobia in a World That Didn’t Believe Me
The quiet crown of self-righteousness as survival strategy
I was eight years old, scanning the classroom for exits, not friends. From the outside, it looked like I thought I was better than everyone. I know how that sounds — aloof, smug, cold. They saw the crown I donned, but what they couldn’t see was the fear.
A specific, all-consuming fear…
Emetophobia: the irrational but very real fear of vomiting
My days became consumed with invisible safety behaviors. When I say I was scanning the room for exits, I’m not just saying I noted the exits for a fire drill. I was strategizing and mapping out the routes I’d take to ‘safety’ in the event person A threw up. Then person B, C, D… and on and on, until I was finally able to distract myself with a mental task. Then, I would change location and begin again.
I started skipping meals entirely or stuck to “safe foods” because I was terrified of getting sick. I didn’t look fragile (not for the first eight years or so). I looked fine. I got good grades. I was kind and well-behaved at school, for the most part. But my body was in revolt. I didn’t trust it, and I didn’t trust the world.
