My big secret

God only knows why I'm writing this now. Maybe because I'm an attention whore. Maybe because I feel my half-baked attempts at honestly have not gotten the response I expected and I need to spice up this old blog. Maybe I've had this on my heart for long enough.

Recently, anytime I'm upset, or angry, or any other similar emotion I can't help but feel sick to my stomach. Sometimes, although not much recently, this would involve vomiting. Believe me, I never wanted to, nor do I now want to do this. It honestly isn't fun. I know it's all a mental thing. And for reassurance this rarely happens now. This is because I know it's all mental. If I feel it happening I stop everything for a moment and tell myself that I'm doing this and I can stop it...and that stops it. So, basically (if any of you have taken psychology you'll understand this) becoming sick has become a conditioned response to becoming stressed or upset. For those who don't know what a conditioned response is it's a response (being sick) to a stimuli (in my case the stimuli is being upset) that becomes conditioned into ones behavior over a period of time through reinforcement.

So, where did this response come from? The short and sweet answer is camp. The long complicated answer is well, long and complicated.

It started at camp when I was put into a situation where I was confused, upset, stressed out, and not given a chance to grieve or deal with it at all. (Side note: Some may know what situation I'm talking about, others may not. I find it petty and irrelevant to bring that into this, because this blog is not about that.) It was the second day of staff training. I was in a new and somewhat scary place with people I didn't know. And I have all this...we'll call it "stress" on me. I don't know how to deal with it. This isn't home, people's expectations of me are different. I am to be self-sacrificial. I am to bend over backwards (literally) and push-mow a hillside in the rain. I am to be the model Christian. Confident. Strong. Constantly smiling, because of Jesus' love for me. Now, none of that was verbally expressed to me, but I strongly inferred it from everyones attitude. So, what does this have to do with being sick? Well, later that same day I apparently looked quite ill so MattO asked if I felt alright. I said I felt horrible. Technically this wasn't a lie, because I did feel absolutely horrible, but at the same time I figured he'd assume that I was saying I was sick. Anyway, he told me to go lay down until I felt better. I did this. But not without many interruptions. Honestly, all I wanted was to lay on my bed alone for about an hour or so. I got annoyed after twenty minutes of people bothering me and having to tell them that I was feeling sick, so I just gave up and participated with whatever was happening then. I didn't really have a chance to try to untwist the knot of thoughts in my brain.

The rest of the week felt like that. I was too busy or always around people. Constantly doing something. Always moving. All I wanted was a moment of stillness to be with God, to clear out a lot of junk in my brain. I did eventually get one chance to do that. I had been watching everyone play signs (this was before I knew how to play). After watching (one person in particular) I felt sick to my stomach. Literally like I was going to throw up. I went out and walked around in the darkness for a while, with this tension inside me building. Then all at once the tension was released. Vomit. I blew chunks. Yacked. Whatever you would prefer to call it. Immediately following this I spent the next hour prostrate on the basketball court praying. All of that was to say, that's when it started. It seemed like anytime I was around a certian person I felt sick. Especially at meal times, because that was when I saw them most. This made me have to chose whether I should eat, or feel really sick. Because anytime I ate it just made me feel sicker.

I tossed my cookie

So, my good ol' pal Russ is here. We got up this morning and went for a run. It was intense. At least for me. We got to the top of the big hill on my road (just under a mile and a half) in over 10 minutes. I'd say maybe 12 or 13 minutes. I yacked when we stopped. And yes. I ate a cookie and I could taste it on the way out. Yum. We walked and and talked on the way back except for the last 1/4 of a mile or so, we ran that. Overall I feel good yet bad. I'm not out of shape at all. I'm not not as in shape as I could/should be. Eh..