I've had a LOT of counselling over the years. In total I've had 5 counsellors in the last 8 or so years and all have provided me with different treatment methods. School was just plain counselling, doctors surgery was CBT followed by higher intensity CBT, and now I'm at uni, where I'm currently undergoing EMDR.

Today I did something I've never ever done in session, which actually, in counselling people often do quite a bit. I cried. And I feel so embarassed about it, but everything that's piled on me today just all came out in that one session.

Today was my 5th session of EMDR. I would have liked to have done regular updates from the start, however my free time has been spent sleeping and doing assignments. For those who don't know what it is, EMDR stands for Eye Movement Desensitisation Reprogramming and works on the assumption that we experience problems through memories that haven't been processes properly. It's a common form of treatment for sufferers of post traumatic stress disorder, and involves thinking about a traumatic event/memory that you've experienced while doing a dual attention task. Some therapists use hand movements in front of the eyes, or tapping one hand after the other. Mine on the other hand involves holding two little...thingies in each hand that vibrate alternately. The idea behind it is it helps you process the memory properly so that while the memory is still there, it's no longer painful or traumatic.

I was initially reluctant, mainly because memories to me, they're just that. Memories. They don't affect me. Or so I thought. I've so far worked on 3 seperate 'targets' where I've concentrated on sensory elements depending on what it was. The first was the Rugrats episode I believe initially triggered my phobia, second was my experience of suffering from norovirus, and third was a time when my mum v*ed everywhere when I was 8 years old.

From doing these tasks, I've learned that there are unprocessed bits of these memories. I won't go into detail, but there's everything: anger, disgust, shock. Last week was a shocking one in that I realised literally then and there a thought that I'd repressed since the age of 8. We also toyed with the idea that perhaps I'm getting better, given the fact that I had a good week last week. I'd had no stomach complaints (partly because I'd upped my mebeverine dosage to 2 tablets a day, but also because I was 'acknowledging' my stomach) and I'd had no anxiety or anything to trigger it.

However, an event on Tuesday night with an unnecessary scene in Fresh Meat where Oregon v*ed over the table (here's the kicker - I didn't even SEE the v*, I knew it was coming so I did my good old pillow-and-mute, but when I found out she was sick, that was it) proved that I am not getting better. I've also had issues this week with a bug going round work, so I've become hypervigelent to every tiny little niggle in my stomach.

Anyway, we established there's definitely some issues around disgust that are the main problem. And on probing deeper there's also some anger there at selfish dickhead TV writers who think they can get a laugh out of v* jokes. While doing my typical processing exercise I tried to think through the logical sides: yes, it's disgusting but it's not real, it's probably just soup or something. Some writers put it in for realism. Sometimes it IS relevant. But my arguement is still this: you wouldn't see someone physically defeacating with complete visuals of "it" on television, so why should you have to see someone v* with visuals on TV?

She then asked me this question: "on a scale of 1-7 (7 being most disturbed) how disturbed do you feel about saying you no longer have a v* phobia?" I answered 6. She then asked me what my answer would have been in the first session. I said 1. I didn't quite understand this properly, I thought she meant in a sense of how I'd like to be - I answered 6 because of everything that's happened over the last few weeks, I am disturbed at saying that I don't have a v* phobia, when clearly I do. I said 1 for the first session because I would have thought (this is hard to put in words) this meant 'how disturbed would I LIKE to be saying I don't have a v* phobia. I don't know. I'm still confused now. She took this to mean that I was saying my phobia is worse than what it was at the first session. Personally, I don't think its any better, but I don't think it's gotten worse. Anyway, confusion and frustration got the better of me and I just burst into tears.

Then she said something that I personally think I've known for a while deep down, and that maybe I haven't wanted to acknowledge. And it was this: perhaps I don't want to let go of my v* phobia.
She said that because I'm doing my dissertation on emetophobia (an idea that came about before I started these sessions I'd like to add) maybe I don't want to let go of it because I'm worried if I do, I won't be able to do it any justice. I again see her point, though I would love to write my final report and say "this research is close to my heart because I am a recovered emetophobia sufferer and I wanted to relate to how these other people were suffering."

The common sense assumption to this whole idea would be: of course I want to let it go, I want it gone and I want it gone now. This is where it hit meet really hard at a much deeper level: this is me. Emetophobia is my identity. I've suffered with emetophobia since I was 7 years old. That's 13 years. I've lived for so long with emetophobia I don't quite know how to live without it. While I would LOVE to be someone who can hold their friends hair back when they're drunk (okay, maybe not to THAT extent, but you get the idea), or who can look after their other half when they're sick without worrying that they'll catch it, or simply someone who can say 'I feel sick' and not send myself into a frenzy regardless of whether I v* or not. If I ask myself 'who am I?' my immediate response is 'I'm a sufferer of emetophobia' - perhaps on an unconscious level I don't want to let go of it because I'm scared I'll loose my identity.  As cheesy as this sounds, my head is saying "no, that's bullshit!" but my heart is saying "You know she's right, you just don't want to admit it."

I really don't know. I'm so confused right now. I still feel a lump in my throat writing this post. I don't know what to bring to the next session. Truth be told, I'm thinking of leaving it and going to the doctors and begging for some anti-anxiety medication. I know that won't solve a thing though. The furstrating thing is, because the anxiety, the IBS and the emetophobia are all linked, it's difficult to know what's feeding what. I still don't know if the stomach complaints are actually a physical medical condition rather than a psychological one. In a sense, yes they are, I have IBS, but I can't help wondering if there's more to it. Unless this is the denial seeping in again and just the general reluctance to continue. I feel like I made such a tit of myself today even though crying in a session is completely normal. I'm just so confused and fed up. Whatever happens, I'll try and keep this updated.