Content note for discussion of emetophobia, general anxiety and mental illness.
On paper, August was an amazing month for me.
I had some of my poetry published, I was given my absolute dream part-time job, I received A-Level results that I am really proud of and I was given the opportunity to be a reviewer in residence for this years Durham Book Festival.
But behind closed doors, often on those days that only my mum or my boyfriend really see, I was having the hardest time of the past four years of my life.
Those who know me (or rather just follow me on social media) may be aware of my struggle with mental illness. I don't make a great effort to keep quiet about it. One of the things I struggle most with is an illness called emetophobia - basically, a fear of feeling/being ill or sick.
I have dealt with this for as long as I can remember without really understanding what it was, until about four years ago when I was at my lowest point. Summer 2012, when I was supposed to be out having fun with my friends, I was stuck inside unable to eat, move or do much else but stay in bed out of fear that anything and everything would make me throw up. I began adopting compulsive behaviour in order to try and control my fear, and the anxiety and depression that came as a result will probably stay with me for the rest of my life.
Over the years I got better. It certainly never went away - I’ve accepted it probably never will - but I was managing it. Panic attacks over sickness were becoming fewer and further between.
However, the last day in July 2016 was an awful one. I had managed to convince myself (after eating too much Chinese food probably) that I was about to be sick. I spent from 11pm at night until 2.30am the following day doubled over the bathroom sink at my boyfriend’s house. I was terrified at the thought of my body letting me down like this, unable to move the 30 centimetres over to the toilet bowl in fear that it would make it feel too real, and too busy panicking to take a drink in case it would make me gag. I kept saying out loud that I had never felt so ill before and that this was sickness, not anxiety, and I was waiting for it to happen.
It never did.
My boyfriend sat just outside the bathroom door reassuring me the entire time (thank you Brandon) and when he eventually convinced me to come back into the living room, he watched over me while I slept.
Whilst this may not seem like a big deal for some, those who know me or suffer from emetophobia themselves will understand how terrifying the experience is. This knocked me ill for weeks - I had convinced myself it was sickness, even after it had happened, because through my recovery I had forgotten how powerful anxiety can be. The trouble with being emetophobic is that the symptoms I am so scared of that come with being sick - dizziness, stomach pains, general nausea, sweaty palms - are identical to symptoms of anxiety and panic attacks. The physical aspects that anxiety can bring are so vivid that I am still now once again struggling to tell the difference between them, and being able to convince myself that I am fine - that I am not going to throw up - is hard.
Slowly but surely I feel like I am getting back to normal now, whatever normal feels like for me anyhow. But it was kind of heartbreaking. It was like all those years I had spent fighting my illness - getting better - had been thrown down the drain just for it to come back full pelt hitting me straight in the face. Three years of anxiety condensed into a few short weeks.
Part of the problem is that whilst these past few months have definitely been hard, I have still continued to beat myself up for it. I get angry for having a panic attack a week when it used to be four every night. Yet if someone had come to me for advice, feeling these same things, I would tell them to try and not be so hard on themselves and acknowledge the fact that they are trying.
But I am the queen of not taking my own advice and when it comes to remaining mindful and taking care of myself, there are days when I don't quite get it right. I have such high expectations of how well I should be practising self care, how happy I should be even when things feel like they're going to shit.
But I need to start being nicer to myself. And so, on reflection, I have made three observations I want to share with you.
Lame as it may be, here is a list of things to consider when you’re going through a shit time.
1. It is okay to not be okay...
No one is going to have a great day every day. It is important to express how we are feeling, even during the bad times, because it is a part of life.
2. ..so you should allow yourself to heal…
Allow yourself to have those bad days. As cheesy as it sounds, sometimes you have to accept that and start again tomorrow. Not pushing yourself to ‘feel better’ is often a really important part of self care.
3. ..because things are going to be better soon.
We all have good days and bad days, and it's easy to only focus on the latter when things are going wrong. But consider the fact that even on your bad days, your current rate for getting through them alive is 100% and that is really incredible.
Another inspiration for this blog post was a video by the wonderful Saffron Kershaw-Mee. I first watched this back in August when I was feeling incredibly low, and it is heart-warming in that place to hear someone voice how you are feeling and highlight that it is in fact okay to not be okay. I would really recommend going and checking out Saffron’s YouTube channel, they are hilarious and, importantly, really open in their content which I love.
Thank you so much for reading my babble, I hope you’re having a safe and lovely World Mental Health Day.
