#79 Conquer my phobia

I don’t really even know where to start this not-made-for-Internet story.  Ever since I can remember, I have had a pretty significant phobia – throwing up.  My phobia included not just me (the last time I threw up I was about 5), but being around other people who were either really sick or so drunk that throwing up was inevitable. 

I remember being at a party in college, and some people were playing beer pong all night.  This guy, aptly nicknamed “Fridge,” was so clearly beyond drunk that I knew it was a matter of time before he tossed his cookies all over the table.  Sure enough, from across the room, I saw the scene start to unfold.  I was so horrified and disgusted that I promptly left the party.  Another time, I was driving with a different college friend after he had had a long night drinking.  He was nervous he was going to get sick, so he sat in the backseat, and the driver was prepared to pull over if necessary.  Again, the closed car paired the close proximity to potential vomit drove me insane – I remember my heart beating in my ears and just pleading with myself that nothing would happen (it didn’t but the memory still haunts).  Oh, and there was a time my roommate had the flu so I hid in my closet while she got sick in her own private bathroom. 

Yes, it was bad. 

After 25 years of never, EVER throwing up, I pretty much assumed I would never throw up again in my life.  Why would I?  I had been through college without having ever been sick from drinking (it’s called knowing your limits, people!), and I had even had the flu.  I chalked it all up to the fact that I must have a strong stomach, and I just avoided situations where others could get sick.  This was particularly difficult when a co-worker of mine had a rough case of morning sickness, vomiting almost every day of her pregnancy. 

And then my 30^th birthday happened.  Thanks to a surprise party with lots of cheap tequila paired with not a lot of eating, I threw up at 1am, one hour after turning 30.  In my bed.  The memory is a little vague, what with all the drinking, not eating and having been asleep for a couple hours.  Drew whisked away the comforter, dealt with the laundry, and I laid freezing on my bed feeling….AMAZING.  I can’t explain it any other way.  IT WAS AMAZING.  Where had this been my entire life?  What was I so scared of?  I felt so much better after having rid my body of gross tequila that I was relatively functioning the entire next day!

And yet.  A 25 year phobia is nothing to laugh at, and one minor incident that I barely remember hardly constitutes triumph.  Then our pre-Thanksgiving sleepover happened.  My sister, having recently begun experiencing ‘cold car induced gagging’ (that’s her official term), was helping unload our cold car of sleeping bags and promptly started gagging.  A few minutes later, as I helped blow up air mattresses in another room, word spread that her weird gagging issue had got the best of her.  My reaction?  Calmness.  And, for the first time in my ENTIRE LIFE, I went to check on her in the kitchen. 

I WENT TO CHECK ON HER.  THIS EXTREME BEHAVIOR WARRENTS CAPITAL LETTERS.

So, I’m checking this stupid item off my life list.  No, I still haven’t thrown up from having the flu (which I have been assured is much worse), and no, I haven’t experienced another in-person puke fest that I have the ability to flee.  But the past week has been good enough for me.  Thank you, Universe, for bringing me vomit on my birthday.  It was the best present ever.

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