Tired of Hiding

There comes a time when you are tired of hiding. Time to get your head out of the sand and face what made you burrow down in the first place.

I'm there. Here's the lowdown: I have social anxiety issues. I've become a hermit of sorts. I do not function well outside the comfort zone and haven that is my home. I have increasingly distanced myself from people, get togethers, and public situations. Partly due to off and on bouts of depression. (Which is prevalent in both sides of my family and not a laughing matter.)  Partly due to . . . a phobia I have.

I have Emetophobia. The fear of vomit - whether from myself or others. It is the most debilitating, black hole, life sucking, negative force in my life. Really, I've had this phobia for as far back as I can remember. It has worsened these past 5-10 years to where I am no longer in control. Panic is. I don't want to go in public because someone may have "a bug."  I begged to homeschool so that my child would have less exposure to other sick kids. (Husband wisely refused me for the sake of Corrina.) I don't want to be at amusement parks or carnivals since someone could get sick on a ride. I would rather eat nails and floss with barbed wire than to use a public restroom.  Traveling is painful; too many germs, too many strangers. One puke scene - graphic or implied - in a movie will result in a instantaneous panic attack on my part. Church which should be my rock and strength is frightening: we turn and greet our neighbors at the beginning of Mass, we offer the Sign of Peace via handshake, we receive the Body and Blood of Christ - the cornerstone of Catholicism. To me, it is fearsome - someone else's potentially unclean hand is offering the Body, a communal cup offering the Blood. No matter how deep my love of Christ, my heart and mind instead of prayerfully contemplating the mystery dwell instead on any potential vomit inducing sickness I may have been contaminated with. My children, my own sweet children, my flesh and blood whom I love fiercely become repellent to me when they are ill. God forgive me, I have to bite down on my own lips to the point of wounding myself to help my children when they are unwell. We burn through my husbands vacation days mostly for him needing to help me take care of them rather than using them for actual fun activities. I am a prisoner of my own mind, fearing what is a sometimes unavoidable function (albeit repulsive) of the human body.

Do you have an irrational fear or phobia? I empathize and commiserate with you if you do. Those who don't cannot understand what it feels like to have a fear of something overtake you unwillingly. Nothing cuts deeper than when you are in the throes of a meltdown and someone callously tells you to "get over it" or say "what's the big deal?"  When you truly and I mean TRULY have a phobia - there is no such possibility. Reason has flown out the window and survival has kicked in.  It's not a simple matter of being grossed out - my body and mind actually feel in danger and traumatized by any vomit association.

So, I'm finally taking the plunge. I want to get better. I want to overcome this if there is any humanly possible way of doing so. I NEED to, for the sake of myself and my family who deserve better than what they are getting from me. The appointment is set and next week I have my first therapy evaluation.  Finally seeking out professional help to beat this monster down. I will not give up. Whether I have to go through months and months of counseling, hypnotherapy, or medication - there has got to be a way to learn to cope if not outright cure.

If you are religious, I humbly ask for your prayers. I can't do it alone and I am simply afraid. Tired, worn, and weak. So here we go on the way to finding light at the end of the tunnel. Bottoms up.