Letters from an anxious person

Kindergarten

At five years old I stepped into school for the first time, and as most kids are, I was nervous. For a young girl, stepping into her first ever classroom is as scary as throwing yourself off of a huge cliff. But I, the eager little girl, was excited. I wanted to show off my brand new pencil case that made me feel like I was the CEO of a very important company. As I walked in, I sat down and started to feel settled. I was only going to be there for about an hour so everything seemed okay. I finished off my short little day and felt amazing! I had made some friends and even coloured a bit, if you were ever in kindergarten you know how cool that is. And so I went on my way and happily told my mom about my day.

While I was thrilled that my first day had been an obvious success, the challenges that awaited me had yet to begin.

The very next day, as I entered the school, the air seemed different. I now wonder if I felt that something was going to happen as if I had a sixth sense. Kind of like when animals sense the approach of a imminent storm. I walked in, said hello to my new found friends and began playing with a small toy register that caught my eye.

Suddenly I heard a noise. At first I didn't think much of it and kept trying to shove the colourful toy money into my register. However, the small noise almost instantaneously turned into a loud roar of screaming children all saying "ewww what's that?". I turned around and saw a girl from the class across the hall sat next to a teacher having just been sick all over the floor. I immediately felt my heart sink all the way down to the top of my toes. I had never felt this way before. Sweaty palms, spinning head and a heart that felt like it was one pump shy of exploding.

After a brief moment of sheer panic, my attention turned to the girl sat next to me who had supposedly been asking if she could use the register for the past three minutes. I answered a simple yes and walked away.

The next few days passed by without much trouble and life as a kindergartener seemed pretty good. And just as the first week of school was coming to an end, the same feeling struck my body. The only difference was, nothing had happened. I was sat at my lunch table unwrapping the sandwich my mom had packed me when I suddenly felt my entire body come to a halt. And just like that my heart started pounding, my arms stared shaking and my head began to spin uncontrollably. As I didn't know why my body had suddenly shut down, i blamed the first thought that came to mind. I was going to be sick right then and there. I put down my food very slowly and sat there, surrounded by people but stuck in what felt like a rollercoaster of thoughts in a broken cart. Minutes quickly turned into an hour and a teacher came to my table. Turns out I had been so engulfed in my own head that I hadn't realized the lunch bell ringing signalling that I had to be in line to get back into the classroom. As I was getting up, the teacher noticed my oddly full lunchbox. She asked why I hadn't eaten and I simply responded that I wasn't very hungry.

These "attacks" as I began to call them, started to be a daily occurrence. Every lunch hour just like clockwork I would freak out and refuse to eat. And as the year went on, I would freak out more and more frequently.

My parents had no idea why their otherwise outgoing and funny little girl had turned into what I can only explain as a hermit. They tried and tried to figure out why I would refuse to eat, but my answers were always vague.

Towards the end of the school year, the "attacks" finally became less frequent until they came to a complete stop. We never did find out a definitive cause of why my brain would suddenly go haywire, and so we decided to link the "attacks" to the one thing that made them begin. According to everyone, I had a severe fear of people being sick. I had emetophobia.