I have been dangerously close to vomiting and being vomited upon this week….

It appears that vomiting is becoming a recurring subject of interest in my life. No, I haven’t developed an eating disorder. However, I am becoming a bit concerned for my own mental health and/or gastrointensinal safety. My stomach has been unusually sensitive for the past several weeks. And it seems like the more emotional trauma I incur, the more violently my stomach threatens to react. If you can at all equate shock and disappointment with being swiftly kicked in the abdomen by the hind leg of a horse…you might begin to understand just where I am coming from.

Last night I dreamt that my roommate puked on me. I then dreamt that a male friend of mine (whose identity shall remain undisclosed), who had witnessed this, proceeded to console me..*ahem”..sexually. I don’t know what any of this means, but this evening after a series of strange, useless and somewhat unfortunate events, my stomach is in such a state where I feel as if my gag reflex is taunting me, inches away from reacquainting me with those chicken strips I had around 4:30….

What the fuck is going on? My stomach has always been an indicator of troubles elsewhere aboard the ship. My mom told me that when I was a little one, I was taken to the hospital for continuous complaining of stomach pains. The doctors however, found nothing physically wrong with me and concluded that it was stress. Ever since, my stomach and I have been in this blissfully abusive relationship, where he gets all gurgly and sassy whenever I’m even remotely emotionally disturbed.

This seems to be similar to the relationship I have with my head. Like the stomach incident, I once had to undergo medical evaluation for prolonged complaints of headaches. I had an MRI done, and of course…nothing to be found in there. I mean…..you know what I mean. No legit reason for the pain. No brain tumors or portly blood vessels. Just good old fashioned physical manifestation of psychological distress.

Again, a third example: freshman year – I randomly developed the shingles (srsly?) at the end of/beginning of one of the most traumatic semesters I’ve had thus far (this semester tops it though). Not to mention, impending emotional doom.

My body is seriously good for nothing more than alerting me (in numerous ways) to the fact that I’m weak. So note to self: grow a pair (and then pray to god that they don’t start hurting…)

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