part-time cinephile, full-time emetophobe
how can you balance a love of film with a fear of vomit?
trigger warning: vomit
One of my articles that my readers seem to enjoy the most is a more personal one, that being reflecting on my high school years through film. I thought I would do something similar and talk about an aspect of me that takes over my daily life, even infiltrating things I do to get away from the rush of school and my personal struggles. And that would be my emetophobia.
I think we can all agree that vomit is gross. Seeing someone else throw up isn’t pleasant, throwing up yourself is awful, the visual of vomit is disgusting; I could say that about anything to do with vomit-related illness. However, how this is differentiated for me and other emetophobes alike is a constant, illogical element of my consciousness that is worrying all the time about the subject of vomit. The thought of seeing it, smelling it, not being able to escape from it rattles in my brain 24/7, and this does not go away ever. The amount of parties I’ve left early or had a panic attack at because someone was about to vomit or did is frankly quite embarrassing.
Something I find particularly interesting about this phobia is despite how common it is, it is very likely to be misunderstood by someone who doesn’t have it. It is a very different experience for everyone. I know people in my life who have the type of emetophobia where they are anxious about them themselves throwing up. For some, it is often triggered by introducing new food into their diet or merely just the thought of growing through vomiting is enough. The other way you can characterise this phobia, which is what I struggle with, is seeing other people throw up. The common onset age for emetophobia is around 9 according to e.mentalhealth.ca/primarycare, and that does somewhat correlate with my phobia, however it reached a new level of extreme in 2023 where coughing, spit and babies started to trigger my phobia, which coincidentally is around the time where I really started to get into film.
My worst experience with my emetophobia when watching a film was probably when I attempted to watch Ruben Östlund’s black comedy The Triangle of Sadness (2022). I fell into the classic trap of watching something just because an actor I like is in it, without taking the responsibility of checking the contents of the film. It started out very well for me, introducing the complex relationship between Carl and Yaya and placing them in a very ideal setting of a luxurious boat trip. From my limited watching time, I really enjoyed Charlbi Dean’s performance as Yaya and I still often think about Harris Dickinson’s monologue of ‘It’s not about the money, Yaya’. Where it went wrong for me was an extremely graphic scene of the captains dinners (click at your own risk), where a lot of the guests on the boat were gifted with extreme travel sickness. This was a strange watching experience for me, because I hadn’t felt this unnerved watching characters vomit in a film since I was a child.
After that experience, I’ve become much more cautious about the films I choose, especially if they veer into dark comedy or satire, genres that seem to enjoy incorporating vomiting as part of their shock value. The Triangle of Sadness was a harsh reminder that, for an emetophobe, the enjoyment of a film can be completely derailed by a single scene. I was having a great time, totally engrossed in the story, and then suddenly I'm bracing myself for an overwhelming barrage of anxiety-inducing visuals. It’s a frustrating experience because it transforms what should be a relaxing or enjoyable escape into an ordeal that can take hours to shake off.
A more recent film that I am struggling to gain the courage to watch, which I am seeing a lot of my favourite writers create articles about, is The Substance; a horror about Elisabeth Sparkle, renowned for her aerobics show, gets fired on her 50th birthday, then leading her to take a black market drug to transform her into a younger, enhanced version of herself. Conceptually, I find the plot very interesting as it critiques beauty standards and explores the objection to aging, yet the body gore and vomit I am further hearing about makes me feel anxious to watch. Luckily, there are a variety of excellent creators on social media who lay out exactly how realistic and how many times throwing up happens in film, which was incredibly useful for me considering I probably would have gone into the film blind. Another site I frequent is doesthedogdie.com, which is great for any trigger and was recommended to me by another vomit phobia holder.
As a reviewer with emetophobia, my relationship with films affects my opinions in ways that others might not immediately understand. My fear of vomiting scenes doesn’t just limit my ability to watch certain films; a well-crafted scene can suddenly feel unbearable if it includes a graphic depiction of vomit, making it impossible for me to focus on anything else. This naturally alters my experience and my take on the film as what might be a brief, forgettable moment for most viewers becomes something that can overshadow the rest of the film. Even if the story is compelling, the acting is great, or the cinematography is stunning, my mind fixates on that one scene, diluting my appreciation for everything else. In turn, it sometimes feels like I have to subtract points for something that, to many others, might not be a something so bad. I put myself in a tricky position - I have to consider how much of my critique stems from the phobia itself in comparison to the actual quality of the film. I have to make a conscious effort to challenge myself to break out of that mould when I write about film.
There’s also the aspect of preemptive avoidance (as I mentioned with The Substance), which, of course, limits my scope as a reviewer. It feels awful missing out on conversations I should be a part of, but I have to weigh my well-being against the necessity of reviewing every major release. I’ve learned to prioritise my limits, but it’s frustrating when the world of film is so vast, yet I feel so entrapped in by this phobia.
Balancing a love for film with emetophobia is an ongoing challenge; one that requires constant self-awareness, careful selection, and, at times, stepping out of conversations I’d love to engage with. But in a strange way, it’s also deepened my relationship with cinema; I’m forced to be more considerate about how other people view film, and I am more attuned with my taste and my limits. Being a film fan with emetophobia may have its constraints, but it’s also pushed me to carve out a personal and meaningful relationship with the movies I love, even if that journey looks different from others. Thank god for the skip button, am I right?
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It’s the first time I’m hearing of emetophobia, and I’m sure it hasn’t been easy to live with. I hope, one day, your cinephilia trumps whatever phobias and fears you have!