Emet.

 It started for me at the tender age of five, as far back as I can remember. I was in Sunday School, of all places.
  I had excused myself to go to the bathroom, and there, someone had been sick in the toilet. They hadn't bothered to flush.
  And there...was when it all began. I remember rushing back to my chair, just so sure I was going to vomit too, in my class. 
  But I never did. I was fine. 
  This is how emetaphobia starts for many people. They have a bit of a traumatic experience to begin with, then it escalates into a fullblown phobia. 
  Emetaphobia, or the extreme phobia of vomiting, is actually more common than you think. 

  But I didn't know this. 

  A few months went by, and I had another "episode" in school. It began with a stomachache, and all I remember was going to the nurses office because I was extremely afraid I'd be sick because my stomach was hurting. Again, nothing happened, of course, that day. I was fine. 
  

  Then, through the years, I'd have similar "episodes" when I'd think I'd be sick, but I never actually vomited. 
  
  When I did actually vomit, though, it was very traumatic, and I literally felt like my world was over. It was in fact so traumatic to me that I'd have severe panic attacks beforehand, shaking almost uncontrollably, my legs having tremors. 
  
  This began to happen more often through the years, and I'd wake up during the middle of the night sometimes, covered in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. 

  This fear began to consume me. I remember being very young, about ten, and not wanting to ride on any of the amusement park rides at the fair because I didn't want to be sick on them. If someone did in fact try and force me on one, I'd almost immediately start to panic, my heart racing, hands sweating, starting to get nauseated in the line for the ride. This of course resulted in an all out panic attack, of which, I'd be pretty embarressed about, so most of the time I'd just grin and bear it, nausea and all, trying to hide it the best I could and pretend I was enjoying the ride, when really, every bit of me was screaming, "I want off!"
  
  You see, with the fear comes nausea....which you can imagine, makes things a bit worse. You never know whether you were feeling sick to begin with, or whether the fear caused you to feel sick. It's a fight with your body that you feel like you can't win. 

  But you're stuck. In your own body. Fighting. 

 Against an invisible enemy called fear. 

  It's hard. 

 Some people never leave their homes.

  Which leads me to my twelfth year. 

  It was a bit of a hard year, anyway. 

  We had moved, and there were some things going on at home that were trying, and emotionally, being a preteen, I was going through all the emotions trying to sort them out. This of course, triggered emotional problems. 

 I didn't want to ride the bus to school. Every morning when I'd wait for the bus, I'd feel sick. 

 And every night before going to bed, I'd feel sick. 

It's almost as in the waiting, I was sick...impatience caused the fear....

  Anyway, I began to just want to stay home. Agoraphobia started to grip me a bit, and I didn't want to leave. I was afraid if I left, I might be sick somewhere in public, and that would be so scary and so embarressing! 

  So, a lot of people who have extreme emetaphobia (emet for short) don't leave their homes. 

  It's sad and can quickly become debilitating. 
  
 Some don't want to eat for fear of throwing up, so they become anorexic. 

 I never was anorexic, thankfully, but I must say that when I go on vacation, I struggle a bit with it these days. 

 You see, vacation is not a vacation for an emetaphobic. 

It feels like a prison sentence to some, in fact, because they know they will be facing their terrors head on. 

 Vacation is where I struggle. 

 The thought of getting in the car for long periods of time with my three children (sometimes screaming and causing the general chaos anyway!) is enough to cause my fear to rise. A lot. Because as an emetaphobic, not only do I have the usual kid craziness but the added extra stress of whether the car ride will make me sick. Then, when I begin to not feel well, which is most often every time we are on the road, I am NOT a good mommy. 

So I just begin to feel defeated pretty fast when you even mention the word, "trip".  

The nausea usually begins a few days before.

And, it lasts the whole entire trip, literally, until we are home again and in the house, settling in. 

 Of course, I never get sick, but I feel sick the whole.entire.time.

Needless to say, it's a bit draining, and by the end, I feel done. 
Done with my body. Done with my mind. Done.



 People say, "Oh, you're gett