Emetophobia and the Theater: 16/01/13

This evening the students on my course were given tickets to one of London's West End live theater productions.

To get there I'd be looking at a one-hour London Underground Train journey, followed by a three-hour play and then a further hour journey home.

Surviving the Train journey would be relatively easy, however the idea of sitting in a packed theater meant that I left it until the last possible minute to leave my house, the temptation to stay indoors in comfort too overpowering.

However in the pursuit of Surviving Emetophobia, "It's 17:40 on Wednesday 16th January 2013 and I'm sitting here on a Train, at the start of my journey to the theater.

Admittedly I must stick out like a sore thumb intently writing into my notepad - scribbles of course so no one can read - tormenting for someone who wants to be unnoticed.

I'm writing these thoughts and jots to keep my mind from concentrating on anxiety, by focusing on something else.

So here goes.

Right now I've got a lump in my throat and my breathing is becoming rapid. I'm approaching a tunnel and can identify the long-term fear isn't that I'll be sick on this train, it's that I'll start imprudently vomiting whilst sitting as an audience member in the theater, for all three-thousand goers to witness.

When I consider how embarrassing and demeaning that would be, is there any wonder I'm so nervous?

My mind is telling me I'm going to be sick, I feel physical symptoms through panic.

How can you differentiate?

The interesting thing about writing is that I'm writing so slowly I'm able to think rationally about my situation as I contemplate what to put next.

Despite my growing esophagus-lump I'm able to consider what a previous therapist once brazenly asked me: "So what if you're sick?" implying after you ask yourself that question to each answer you give, you end up not knowing what you're really scared of.

Maybe: just maybe, I'll be able to ask myself that later on in a bid to relax in the theater."

20:20, Wednesday 16th January 2013:

"There: I've done it.

Something I'm immensely pleased of yet something I'm ashamed of too.

It's got to be at least Eight O'Clock in the evening here in the UK and I find myself on a train home.

I'd arrived at the theater, taken my seat and in quick succession I'd made a dart for the doors.

I lasted a - perhaps - impressive 30 minutes as an audience member, far longer than I'd expected I would earlier today.

In my contemplation filled with both relief and disappointed, I'm somewhat happy I found the courage to leave home, get on the train and sit in the packed theater for the time I did.

Flip side I'm ashamed I didn't last the length of the show, secretly embarrassed that the students and tutors from my course would have seen me "rudely" leave the theater."

After all how many more times must Emetophobia cause me to do something that makes me stand out in a negative, different way?