I wake in the morning and dread the day ahead, it would be much easier if I could go back to sleep instead. It is better than the torture of my disorder; the voices in my head don't ask me things nicely - they're always an order.
My fear of vomiting is detrimental, so the acts that I carry out are fundamental. I do not leave the house; germs could get on my hands, I always find an excuse for not participating in my friend's plans. My hands are red raw and sore from the excessive scrubbing; it's become a chore. I have to put sanitiser around my mouth too, otherwise my mind goes crazy - unfortunately that's true.
When exposed to a vomiting bug, I completely stop eating and take an anti-bacterial drug. I count down forty eight hours before I can eat again; this is the extent of the phobia's powers.
When somebody mentions they feel unwell, I avoid them like the plague and it feels like I'm in hell.
I think of the future and of the children I desire, but the idea of germs and sickness around them is a taunt so dire.
I worry about vomiting every single day; causing panic attacks and mental breakdowns - I want to run away.
People laugh at such a "silly" terror, but for me it's a life-changing and deleterious horror.