Saturday, 28 April 2012 02:47

how it started

Artistically, I've always thrived off confrontation and rejection.

It makes me want to prove my worth and prove people wrong.

In my mind, things are fine until I wake up and realize that I have a physical body that has limits. And honestly, that wasn't all that bad, having limits. 

 

I've always been afraid of vomiting ever since I was little. I'd be shaking and sweating with the effort of keeping it, of staying in control. When I went to university things abated. I was able to eat out and eat until I was full. Towards the end of my second year I woke up feeling ill. I was too hot, then too cold and so very thirsty. I got out of bed to get some water, fell on the floor and vomited bile on the hardwood. I got up to go to the bathroom to clean myself up, but I got stuck at the doorway. I couldn't hear or see. Everything was dark and sound was muted as if I was underwater. Apparently I was moaning because my parents came out of their room and saw me standing, pale and drenched in sweat.

They thought it'd be okay after a while, but I was still shaking and vomiting horribly and shitting the fluids out of my body. No water would stay down. They drove me to the ER and I was vomiting more in the car. I was fine there for a bit. My blood pressure was dangerously low and wouldn't get to normal no matter how many bags of saline they gave me. They sent me home after five hours after running blood and urine tests. They didn't know what was wrong.

 

This happened again, about eight months later, but without the hospitalization. Now I'm afraid whenever I wake up in the middle of the night, or when there's too much saliva in my mouth, when I'm too warm. Everything seems to be a symptom of sickness and I don't know what to do. Most days I'm uncomfortable leaving my house, but I do it anyway, treating it like a ritual.

Published in Diary