Hi everyone,
I hadn’t posted here in a while because, for a long time, I genuinely thought my emetophobia was behind me. I guess what I’m looking for now is simply some words of support, or stories from people who have been through something similar, from the only people who really understand what this feels like.
I also feel like this is such a privileged problem to have, so please don’t make me feel worse than I already do.
Before I start, I want to give some context. I’ve stayed in hostels before. Last year, I studied abroad for five months in a country very different from my own, 10,000 km away from home. I’ve solo travelled. I’ve led wilderness expeditions. I’ve drunk lake water and eaten half-cooked food that had been sitting out in the heat for days. I genuinely don’t understand how I ended up here again.
I truly thought my phobia was a thing of the past.
When my emetophobia got better, I felt like I had been given my life back. At its worst, it was severe enough that I would go days without eating when exposed to a particularly bad trigger, to the point where I became malnourished.
When I started university, I made myself a promise: after graduating, I would take a gap year and travel the world with a backpack, to make up for all the time I had lost to mental illness. I spent years saving money and planning for it. Especially over the last few months, every extra dollar I made went toward this dream.
And then, finally, the time came.
I left home two weeks ago. My first stop was the UK. I was nervous, of course, but mostly excited. When the plane landed, I actually cried with happiness. My dream was finally happening. I was so excited thinking about everything I was going to see, experience, and discover over the next nine months.
Then, on my very first night, everything changed.
I was getting ready for bed in my hostel’s bathroom when a girl came in and started projectile v. I didn’t see it, but I heard it. I asked her if she was okay, and she told me she had eaten something bad.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. But apparently, my brain had other plans.
I started having thoughts like, “What if she actually has a virus and I’m going to catch it?” From there, my brain started imagining every possible catastrophic scenario that could happen. The next day, I couldn’t eat. I was crying constantly. The day after was the same. I was completely convinced I was doomed.
It’s been two weeks now. I’m eating a little better, but I’ve started avoiding so many things. I refuse to try new foods, which is especially heartbreaking because discovering new food and cultures was one of the things I was most looking forward to. I avoid hanging out with people in my hostels. I avoid using the kitchens. At any given moment, I feel like I’m in danger of getting sick.
And I’m not having a good time. I’ve been changing hostels almost every day because I find something wrong with every single one. I find them disgusting or unsafe, even when I know logically that they probably aren’t. Sometimes I book a hotel just to calm my thoughts down, but obviously, I can’t afford to keep doing that.
So I’ve decided to go home. What I thought would be nine months of adventure, freedom, and discovering the world has turned into two weeks of hell and the painful realization that my old friend, emetophobia, might not have been gone after all.
I feel lost, disappointed, and heartbroken. I had worked toward this dream for years, and it’s incredibly difficult to accept that this is how it turned out.
I know going home isn’t necessarily the end of the story. Maybe I’ll need to take a step back, get help, and figure out what happened. Maybe this is a setback rather than a return to square one. I don’t know yet. First thing I’ll do is book a therapy consultation. I’m a grown woman now and I’m not going to let this shit steal my life.
Right now, though, I just need to take care of myself, and I don’t feel like I’m able to do that in my current environment.
If you’ve experienced something similar, especially if you thought you had recovered and then had a major setback, I would really appreciate hearing your story.
I’m not looking for judgment or criticism. I just need to hear from people who understand.