Stress Lives In My Stomach

03/01/24

Within 20 minutes of my husband telling me he was leaving, I was in the toilet, throwing up.

I don’t make myself do it; it’s how my body reacts to stress.

That night, I puked intermittently until there was nothing left.

My body continued to attempt to purge, so I drank glasses of water just to have something to throw up. It’s less painful than dry heaving.

It hurts me so much that in those last few days, while he was still here, he never once acknowledged what I was experiencing or offered sympathy. Several times he walked past the closed toilet door, humming to himself as he went downstairs.

He can be so fucking cruel.

It’s now four days on and it continues, but worse.

This morning, while trying to get ready to leave for work, I found myself on my hands and knees on the bedroom floor, leaning over a bowl, every muscle straining as my stomach tried to force out contents that didn’t exist.

I felt like the cat trying to bring up a fur ball.

Eventually, it died back, but I knew it would be back soon enough.

In the meantime the fist of fear clutched my gut, and anxiety coursed through me, making me want to hide away from the world.

I just wanted to stay there on the floor, curled around the bowl, crying, until maybe I’d be lucky enough to pass out.

What I actually did was tidy myself up and go to work.

No choice really.

I throw up repeatedly at work, trying to keep it discreet and silent, although I think they know.

I’ve thrown up in the street, shamed that there’s been witnesses, knowing they’re making assumption and judgements.

When I get home it’s as if my body thinks it’s a free for all, and we just fall into an almost constant battle, with my stomach heaving and me trying to breath it away.

It’s horrible, and relentless, and exhausting.

I’m trying so hard to eat, something, anything, because I know that without nutrients everything gets more difficult.

Even in perfectly calm and happy times, my mood plummets if I go too long without food.

That mood drop not only affects how I behave to others, but also, without regular food consumption my mental and emotional health can tip pretty badly, pretty quickly.

I’m acutely aware of needing to avoid this happening; I really can’t cope with piling extra onto the emotional difficulties I’m already facing.

So, yeah, I know I need to eat, but every time I swallow more than a single mouthful, I’m running for the nearest receptacle to vomit.

My solution for now, is protein shakes/liquid meal replacements, based on the idea that I’ll be able to sip them through the day, rather than trying to force down solids in my limited-time work breaks.

I’ve got a few ready made ones, to try out different types and brands – so far they’re all disgusting, but I’m going to persevere.

I’m hoping that whatever nutrients are contained within those little sips of liquid will get absorbed into my system before the carrier is ejected by my truculent body.

I’m trying, really trying, to find a way through the bleakness that’s descended on my life. I haven’t the faintest idea how.

My mind, body and heart feel like they’re breaking into smaller and smaller pieces.

For now, the best I can do is try to keep them all from turning to dust and blowing away in the wind.

JP