Hi everyone, I just recently joined this forum and decided instead of just asking and taking that I will give when I can. I can only hope that my story is useful to someone; if not, that’s okay too. Before I begin, I would like to make clear that 1) I am not a doctor and can’t give actual medical advice and 2) these are all my opinions and it’s understandable if you don’t see things the same way I do.
Anxiety is real.
Anxiety is a real thing that people experience. The thing I feel most people don’t truly believe with their entire heart is that the mind is a powerful thing that can make major things happen. Mind over matter is real.
Most people with anxiety think it’s just something they have to suffer through, something they have to learn how to live with, relieve control, and become a bitch to their own mind. I believe anxiety is something you can control. Something you can overcome and evolve out of even if you’re on the verge of a panic attack. The only fears you are born with are falling and loud noises; everything else is learned. Meaning they are able to be unlearned.
Let’s begin my story.
You’re going to think I’m the craziest person in the world, but I developed the most insane fear of throwing up.
To this day, I haven’t thrown up in 13 years. I forgot what it felt like. I just know it’s miserable. One day at the gym, I was squatting some heavy weight for my size at the time. While I was resting for my set, I started feeling nauseous. This was normal to me and usually would go away. Except this time, it felt like there was a sniper laser directed right to my head. The sniper shot, and instead of a bullet, it was a thought that came straight to the front of my mind: “What if I actually throw up right now?” My heart dropped straight to my stomach. I lost my breath even more than I did from that set squatting. I had no idea what it felt like to throw up. I didn’t want to do it in public; that would have been so embarrassing. I guess it’s important to state here that I am a huge introvert and dislike when all the attention is on me. I ran to the bathroom, convinced I was going to yak everywhere. I stood there with my heart racing, and… nothing happened. My heart rate dropped back to normal. I caught my breath and went back to continue my workout.
Ever since that day, I would end up being “nauseous” every single day for the next 4 years.
Whenever I felt as if I was in a situation where I was “stuck” with no easy access to a bathroom (e.g. any type of line, taking a test, in a car, on a roller coaster, etc.), the thought would come piercing in my mind: “What if I threw up right now?” and the same heart racing scenario played out.
I would like to interject again since you’re probably still thinking I’m a crazy person. I would like to say that even if I might be crazy. Anxiety is truly crazy. Think about all the random phobias people have. Just to name a few of the craziest ones I’ve researched:
I hope we can both agree that this shit is crazy now. Let’s move on to the turning point and what changed everything for me.
About two years into this phobia, I was working at a car dealership. Up until this point, I had no idea it was just anxiety; I genuinely thought I was going to throw up every single time. I was stationed at a desk with a computer, the bathroom just a couple of feet away. I was safe. Until one day, a coworker had to teach me how to do a specific task. This was a long process and required a lot of explanation. About halfway into this explanation, I thought, “How long is this going to be? It feels like it’s never going to end.” And then… I think you can guess what thought came up next. Shoved in a corner by my coworker deep in an explanation. I can’t just cut her off and run to the bathroom; she’s going to know I wasn’t listening to a single word. I was stuck. I couldn’t leave. Here comes the same song and dance. First, my heart drops to my stomach. Then, I come the short breaths as I feel like I’m drowning. There’s no exit. No easy way to excuse myself; I can’t just get up and leave. My heart starts pounding faster and harder; I can literally feel it about to burst through my chest. Her voice muffles out, and I don’t hear anything. I’m not joking; I couldn’t not F*cking hear anything. The last sense to slip my grasp was my sight. From the outside of my peripherals pouring in was darkness engulfing the world around me. I am not exaggerating here; I thought to myself either I am going to yak all over this girl or faint. Then suddenly, just as my vision was going to go full black, a sudden calm; my vision rushed back. I could feel my heart rate returning to normal. I was able to hear and understand the words my coworker was saying to me again. All I could think to myself was “What the F*ck was that?”
My coworker left after her explanation was done, and I said I understood it all, even though I blacked out for half of it. I just sat there trying to understand what the actual F*ck just happened. “Did I just have a panic attack?” I thought to myself, Googling the symptoms. I came to the craziest realization that I indeed had a panic attack, and I was never ever truly going to throw up, but I was afraid of it. I was anxious about it, and that anxiety was slowly taking over my life.
This day was my turning point because I found out I was a bitch, and my mind held the whip, stepping on my balls. I realized how much this bullshit took over my life. I would avoid going out because I did not want to feel “stuck”. I wouldn’t eat before any car ride hours before, sometimes starving myself for the entire day. In class, I would not sit in a seat unless there was direct and easy access to a door.
This shit was F*cking up my life.
The panic attack was such a realization moment for me because I learned one important thing: I was being a bitch. I was letting not-real things control my very real life. I’m not calling you a bitch if you suffer through anything similar; I just have a very vulgar mind. I hold myself to a higher standard than this… letting something completely fictional, a scenario that was made up in my mind, control whether I left my house or not? Control what and when I ate? What the F*ck is this?! Who the F*ck am I?! While the realization was kind of like a FTE in some ways, the progress was anything but. The path to freedom from this anxiety was slow and grueling. Whenever I went to class, I made it a goal to sit closer than I did the last time. And if I felt nauseous, I would sit my a$$ down because now I know I’m battling with my mind and not with my body. I would eat meals before car rides. Oh my god, the damn car rides; I pray no one has to endure the torture I went through after eating on a car ride. I could not talk to anyone; all I was doing was focusing on not having a full-blown panic attack. Breathing techniques, meditation, thought exercises— I tried all of it. Sometimes nothing worked, and I just had to sit there and endure. I said this once, but I would like to say this again. Everyday for 4 years, I woke up, and the first thing I thought about was throwing up; the last thing on my mind was sleeping was throwing up. It was all I ever thought about, always in the back of my mind. Or the front, or the middle, or the sides; it was always somewhere. The only bliss I would get was the couple of seconds after waking up before I could even recall who and where I was. After enough of this self-prescribed exposure therapy, I started seeing results. I would go an hour without thinking about being nauseous. I sat in the passenger seat of a car for 15 minutes just fine. I could sit on rides at Cedar Point without thinking about it. I was able to stand in decently long lines again. Sure, there were ups and downs. It was not a straight slope down but a bumpy one. But I didn’t have to avoid or be afraid of going out anymore. I could eat an entire F*cking rotisserie chicken in the car if I wanted to. I would go one full day without thinking about or being nauseous. I could sit anywhere I wanted to in any F*cking classroom. Put me in a pit surrounded by hundreds of people with the nearest bathroom half a mile through the crowd, and I can do it without my heart skipping a single beat.
I gained back control over my life and my mind.
I can’t help but think what would have happened if I were to go to a doctor for this.
> I would have been prescribed nausea meds, which wouldn’t have worked.
> The doctor would then assume it’s anxiety, which it was, and would send me to a psychiatrist.
> The psychiatrist would have seen I have anxiety and been like, “Here you go! Let’s start you off on a small dose of this antidepressant with insane side effects! But I won’t tell you about those and the fact that it is also borderline impossible to get off of without crazy withdrawal symptoms.
”
> The meds wouldn’t work, so I would increase the dosage.
> The meds wouldn’t work, so I would increase the dosage.
> The meds wouldn’t work, so I would increase the dosage.
> By now, I’d be balls deep in anti-depression meds, so dependent on them I couldn’t live without them.
> I would try to get off of them, but the withdrawal symptoms are so strong I would convince myself this is how I live now.
> Not only is my anxiety not fixed, it actually got worse. And I also developed into a state of depression I wouldn’t even think of having not on meds.
> At the end of it all. All I gained was a new daily pill, more anxiety, depression, and the mind of a zombie. Nothing fixed, problems added. Try starting a fast-lane company with that on your plate.
I know I sound like I’m talking out of my a$$. But I have seen this shit. I have seen people go down the medication path. I don’t like it at all. In my opinion, it is one of the unethical forms of a CENTS business. So much profit, so many lives negatively affected. I’m sorry if this is a touchy subject to some. Once again, these are my opinions, and I’m just a random guy on the internet.
All I ask is that if you EVER feel the need to get on medication to handle any mental disability. Please think about other options. If you take anything away from my story, take away the fact that you are in CONTROL of your mind, not the other way around. I know how dumb a fear of puking sounds. But my mind let me think it was as scary as dying. The mind is such a powerful thing, and it can work against you. But if you take control of it, I believe the opposite is true as well. You will be capable of doing anything you F*cking want. I am so grateful this happened to me because I was able to learn that firsthand. That is why the MJs books resonate with me so much. It takes such a deep control of your mind to carry on through the drought while no gains seem to be made. With a deep control of your mind, I believe you can achieve unscriptedness and much more. I don’t like saying this because I myself haven’t achieved this goal yet, but I have achieved the confidence in knowing I am capable of it. I went through war and came out victorious.
A couple of things that helped me through this:
This is my first time sending or posting this story. I hope it helps someone. While I’m only 22 and haven’t experienced everything the world has to offer, I hope I am able to help others with the small slice of life I’ve experienced thus far. Let me know your feedback. P.S. I’m not an experienced writer, so sorry if this is hot garbage.
Anxiety is real.
Anxiety is a real thing that people experience. The thing I feel most people don’t truly believe with their entire heart is that the mind is a powerful thing that can make major things happen. Mind over matter is real.
Most people with anxiety think it’s just something they have to suffer through, something they have to learn how to live with, relieve control, and become a bitch to their own mind. I believe anxiety is something you can control. Something you can overcome and evolve out of even if you’re on the verge of a panic attack. The only fears you are born with are falling and loud noises; everything else is learned. Meaning they are able to be unlearned.
Let’s begin my story.
You’re going to think I’m the craziest person in the world, but I developed the most insane fear of throwing up.
To this day, I haven’t thrown up in 13 years. I forgot what it felt like. I just know it’s miserable. One day at the gym, I was squatting some heavy weight for my size at the time. While I was resting for my set, I started feeling nauseous. This was normal to me and usually would go away. Except this time, it felt like there was a sniper laser directed right to my head. The sniper shot, and instead of a bullet, it was a thought that came straight to the front of my mind: “What if I actually throw up right now?” My heart dropped straight to my stomach. I lost my breath even more than I did from that set squatting. I had no idea what it felt like to throw up. I didn’t want to do it in public; that would have been so embarrassing. I guess it’s important to state here that I am a huge introvert and dislike when all the attention is on me. I ran to the bathroom, convinced I was going to yak everywhere. I stood there with my heart racing, and… nothing happened. My heart rate dropped back to normal. I caught my breath and went back to continue my workout.
Ever since that day, I would end up being “nauseous” every single day for the next 4 years.
Whenever I felt as if I was in a situation where I was “stuck” with no easy access to a bathroom (e.g. any type of line, taking a test, in a car, on a roller coaster, etc.), the thought would come piercing in my mind: “What if I threw up right now?” and the same heart racing scenario played out.
I would like to interject again since you’re probably still thinking I’m a crazy person. I would like to say that even if I might be crazy. Anxiety is truly crazy. Think about all the random phobias people have. Just to name a few of the craziest ones I’ve researched:
- Arachibutyrophobia: The fear of peanut butter sticking to the roof of your mouth.
- Anatidaephobia: The fear that somewhere out in the world, a goose is watching you.
- Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia: Hilariously, the fear of long words.
- Koumpounophobia: The fear of buttons. People with this fear are unable to wear button-up shirts.
- Omphalophobia: The fear of belly buttons.
- Xanthophobia: The fear of the color yellow.
- Nomophobia: The fear of being without a mobile phone or mobile signal.
I hope we can both agree that this shit is crazy now. Let’s move on to the turning point and what changed everything for me.
About two years into this phobia, I was working at a car dealership. Up until this point, I had no idea it was just anxiety; I genuinely thought I was going to throw up every single time. I was stationed at a desk with a computer, the bathroom just a couple of feet away. I was safe. Until one day, a coworker had to teach me how to do a specific task. This was a long process and required a lot of explanation. About halfway into this explanation, I thought, “How long is this going to be? It feels like it’s never going to end.” And then… I think you can guess what thought came up next. Shoved in a corner by my coworker deep in an explanation. I can’t just cut her off and run to the bathroom; she’s going to know I wasn’t listening to a single word. I was stuck. I couldn’t leave. Here comes the same song and dance. First, my heart drops to my stomach. Then, I come the short breaths as I feel like I’m drowning. There’s no exit. No easy way to excuse myself; I can’t just get up and leave. My heart starts pounding faster and harder; I can literally feel it about to burst through my chest. Her voice muffles out, and I don’t hear anything. I’m not joking; I couldn’t not F*cking hear anything. The last sense to slip my grasp was my sight. From the outside of my peripherals pouring in was darkness engulfing the world around me. I am not exaggerating here; I thought to myself either I am going to yak all over this girl or faint. Then suddenly, just as my vision was going to go full black, a sudden calm; my vision rushed back. I could feel my heart rate returning to normal. I was able to hear and understand the words my coworker was saying to me again. All I could think to myself was “What the F*ck was that?”
My coworker left after her explanation was done, and I said I understood it all, even though I blacked out for half of it. I just sat there trying to understand what the actual F*ck just happened. “Did I just have a panic attack?” I thought to myself, Googling the symptoms. I came to the craziest realization that I indeed had a panic attack, and I was never ever truly going to throw up, but I was afraid of it. I was anxious about it, and that anxiety was slowly taking over my life.
This day was my turning point because I found out I was a bitch, and my mind held the whip, stepping on my balls. I realized how much this bullshit took over my life. I would avoid going out because I did not want to feel “stuck”. I wouldn’t eat before any car ride hours before, sometimes starving myself for the entire day. In class, I would not sit in a seat unless there was direct and easy access to a door.
This shit was F*cking up my life.
The panic attack was such a realization moment for me because I learned one important thing: I was being a bitch. I was letting not-real things control my very real life. I’m not calling you a bitch if you suffer through anything similar; I just have a very vulgar mind. I hold myself to a higher standard than this… letting something completely fictional, a scenario that was made up in my mind, control whether I left my house or not? Control what and when I ate? What the F*ck is this?! Who the F*ck am I?! While the realization was kind of like a FTE in some ways, the progress was anything but. The path to freedom from this anxiety was slow and grueling. Whenever I went to class, I made it a goal to sit closer than I did the last time. And if I felt nauseous, I would sit my a$$ down because now I know I’m battling with my mind and not with my body. I would eat meals before car rides. Oh my god, the damn car rides; I pray no one has to endure the torture I went through after eating on a car ride. I could not talk to anyone; all I was doing was focusing on not having a full-blown panic attack. Breathing techniques, meditation, thought exercises— I tried all of it. Sometimes nothing worked, and I just had to sit there and endure. I said this once, but I would like to say this again. Everyday for 4 years, I woke up, and the first thing I thought about was throwing up; the last thing on my mind was sleeping was throwing up. It was all I ever thought about, always in the back of my mind. Or the front, or the middle, or the sides; it was always somewhere. The only bliss I would get was the couple of seconds after waking up before I could even recall who and where I was. After enough of this self-prescribed exposure therapy, I started seeing results. I would go an hour without thinking about being nauseous. I sat in the passenger seat of a car for 15 minutes just fine. I could sit on rides at Cedar Point without thinking about it. I was able to stand in decently long lines again. Sure, there were ups and downs. It was not a straight slope down but a bumpy one. But I didn’t have to avoid or be afraid of going out anymore. I could eat an entire F*cking rotisserie chicken in the car if I wanted to. I would go one full day without thinking about or being nauseous. I could sit anywhere I wanted to in any F*cking classroom. Put me in a pit surrounded by hundreds of people with the nearest bathroom half a mile through the crowd, and I can do it without my heart skipping a single beat.
I gained back control over my life and my mind.
I can’t help but think what would have happened if I were to go to a doctor for this.
> I would have been prescribed nausea meds, which wouldn’t have worked.
> The doctor would then assume it’s anxiety, which it was, and would send me to a psychiatrist.
> The psychiatrist would have seen I have anxiety and been like, “Here you go! Let’s start you off on a small dose of this antidepressant with insane side effects! But I won’t tell you about those and the fact that it is also borderline impossible to get off of without crazy withdrawal symptoms.
”> The meds wouldn’t work, so I would increase the dosage.
> The meds wouldn’t work, so I would increase the dosage.
> The meds wouldn’t work, so I would increase the dosage.
> By now, I’d be balls deep in anti-depression meds, so dependent on them I couldn’t live without them.
> I would try to get off of them, but the withdrawal symptoms are so strong I would convince myself this is how I live now.
> Not only is my anxiety not fixed, it actually got worse. And I also developed into a state of depression I wouldn’t even think of having not on meds.
> At the end of it all. All I gained was a new daily pill, more anxiety, depression, and the mind of a zombie. Nothing fixed, problems added. Try starting a fast-lane company with that on your plate.
I know I sound like I’m talking out of my a$$. But I have seen this shit. I have seen people go down the medication path. I don’t like it at all. In my opinion, it is one of the unethical forms of a CENTS business. So much profit, so many lives negatively affected. I’m sorry if this is a touchy subject to some. Once again, these are my opinions, and I’m just a random guy on the internet.
All I ask is that if you EVER feel the need to get on medication to handle any mental disability. Please think about other options. If you take anything away from my story, take away the fact that you are in CONTROL of your mind, not the other way around. I know how dumb a fear of puking sounds. But my mind let me think it was as scary as dying. The mind is such a powerful thing, and it can work against you. But if you take control of it, I believe the opposite is true as well. You will be capable of doing anything you F*cking want. I am so grateful this happened to me because I was able to learn that firsthand. That is why the MJs books resonate with me so much. It takes such a deep control of your mind to carry on through the drought while no gains seem to be made. With a deep control of your mind, I believe you can achieve unscriptedness and much more. I don’t like saying this because I myself haven’t achieved this goal yet, but I have achieved the confidence in knowing I am capable of it. I went through war and came out victorious.
A couple of things that helped me through this:
- I did not tell a single soul. I believe the more you put it out there and talk about something like this, the more it becomes your “identity”. Other people start thinking of you like “the guy that’s scared of ___” and will ask you how it is. You will never be able to forget it since everyone is talking to you about it.
- Exposure therapy. This is my saving grace. Just like working out, you try to get better each time. Exposure therapy is an exercise to prove to your mind you are capable. I did not know I was doing this when I was.
- Understanding that you can control your mind. Believe this, or else you will find yourself looking for workarounds instead of tackling the solution head-on. Don’t build your house on sand. The second a storm comes, your house will crumble. Focus on the source of what you’re anxious about and why.
This is my first time sending or posting this story. I hope it helps someone. While I’m only 22 and haven’t experienced everything the world has to offer, I hope I am able to help others with the small slice of life I’ve experienced thus far. Let me know your feedback. P.S. I’m not an experienced writer, so sorry if this is hot garbage.
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