i used to vomit everyday for about a 3 month period. no, i wasnt bulimic, i just cudnt keep my food down bc i was massively sick. it was pretty miserable. i was so so so sick, that anything, absolutely anything i ate, wud leave my body within an hour of eating it, either thru one orifice or the other. at least i was losing some of the 35lbs id put on a year earlier. god is merciful, i thought.
but as i finally understood my food allergies and intolerance (of which there are now a great many), as i got out of china and back into the states — the good ol U S of A with its pesticides and its monsanto love! — i started to get better. instead of vomiting every day, it was 4 times a week. then 3 times a week. then, holy mother fuckin shit, once every couple of weeks! i was getting better, goddammit.
but the vomiting had developed a pattern. it was no longer just vomit all the time, all day errday. it was vomit when ur stressed and anxious. how delightful!
im currently staying with my aunt and uncle, in a village nestled in the hills of the biggest island in the cyclades, amongst the gorgeous aquamarine blue of the aegean. amongst the goats and olive trees, in a sleepy little town where siesta lasts from 3pm to 6pm. but somehow, ive been vomiting more here than i was when i left the states. it’s gone from once every few weeks to once or twice a week. why?
this past weekend, i was meant to go to a wedding. when i asked who was getting married, i was told that it was ‘just some people we know.’ bc that’s how we roll, if someone we kinda know is getting married, we go to the ceremony. church and incense and all. hour and a half service and all. this wedding was sprung on me. a few days prior to it happening, i was told we will be going.
my anxiety went into overdrive. not only is it difficult for me to sit in a room with one or two people for longer than an hour without feeling drained and exhausted, now i was being told that i was to attend a wedding in the evening of the first heatwave to hit greece since my arrival in may. what the actual fuck. how the mother fuck was i going to go outside in 40 degrees with a dress and make up on, with a bunch of people i fucking didnt know, being introduced as ‘our niece from los angeles’ when being around ppl id known my whole life was enough to make me want to run away and become a hermit?
so i got up in the morning. i had this stupid issue with amazon over canceled items and refunds. i had my green tea, i did my meditation and yoga. sidenote: if you wud have told me 2 years ago id be into meditation and yoga id have laughed u outta the room. id have told u to fuck off, YOU DONT KNOW ME, YOU DONT KNOW MY LIFE, and bought you a drink, bc the bar is the only place ud find me, really. so anyway, i did 45 mins of mediation and yoga. i did my sun salutations and recited my reiki principles, and then i went into the kitchen to eat breakfast. not 30 minutes after id finished my fruit and crackers i threw up, violently. and my face spots turned like red red wine, but not so fine. they were all over, on my eyelids, covering my cheeks. and i was so weak. there were sharp shooting pangs of horribleness like daggers in my stomach. this was by far the worst episode of vomit and die id had to date. but when my aunt asked if it was normal, i said yes.
i vomited from my nerves. the anxiety and stress of needing to go out in the heat, with hundreds of ppl i didnt know, being introduced as the american, to an event i shud not have been at, it got to me. i was so painfully afraid of being social and of becoming exhausted and overwhelmed by the stimuli of a crowd that i fell apart. and if i wasnt strong enough to say it outright, by god my body was going to revolt. so i have been in bed the past two days. i slept for 18 hours in a 24 hour period. because my body said no. it said hell mutha fuckin no. im not going to do this shit. i cannot be out in the heat. i cannot be in a crowd. i cannot pretend to give a shit about this wedding. i wont. vomit and die.