This is a letter to myself. It may seem harsh sometimes, and it is probably irrelevant for most people.
Every Emetophobic thinks they know the secret to themselves: living with it. Pack a kit, take antacids, wear a mask; whatever it is, you do it. You truly believe that it’s the right thing to do. You have good days, and not-so good days. But, at least you’re taking care of yourself, right?
You know those overprotective parents? You’re being one of them. To your brain.
The worst thing that you can do for yourself is let your anxious brain take charge. Your brain is the devil disguised as a crying baby that just wants a hug. Don’t hug the baby, no matter how cruel it seems. The baby will thank you later. (In real life, yes, definitely, go ahead and hug the baby. That was just a metaphor.)
You are stronger than yourself. (I know that sounds incredibly stupid, and makes no sense, but bear with me.) You are stronger than needing pills that “prevent” yourself from something that shouldn’t even be a big deal. You are stronger than going through a dozen peppermints a day like it’s your job. You are stronger than skipping over any paragraph that has the word “nausea” or “puke” or “vomit” in it. If you just skipped that past sentence, go back and read it. I promise you that it will not hurt you in any way.
You don’t need control. I know you want it. I know that if you could just look into a crystal ball, it would all be better. But get this: you can’t. Get over it.
You’re making breakthroughs every day. Every minute you get through without hugging the baby, you’re changing the entire course of your future. You’re steering yourself off that sad, lonely path, and towards a bright happiness, one step at a time.
Emetophobia can be cured. It’s possible. And, it will happen for you. I’m 100% positive, because I believe in you and I believe in your power and strength and determination. If you can, you will. It won’t be easy, but it will feel amazing when it’s all over, and you can finally wave goodbye to good old Emet.