Significant

So I hate throwing up.

Hate feeling like throwing up too, but well, ok, let's just say I hate everything to do with nausea and throwing up.

A LOT.

When I feel like I'm going to be sick I don't want to be around people.  Which means if I'm at work, as has happened on occasion with a bad lunch or something, I'll suddenly get very quiet and pull my hair up out of the way so I can feel cooler (it helps me feel less nauseated, go figure) and if things don't settle immediately, I'll go take a Gravol (anti-nauseant.)

When I'm at home, it's usually not a problem, but I do remember getting sick when Jay was staying with me and literally kicking him out of the house.  I'd woken up one morning feeling sick and I knew I was going to throw up and I couldn't handle the idea of him being there or being around when it happened.  So I threw him out.  Told him he had to get out, I didn't care if he went for a walk or what but I was going to be sick and he had to get out.

Which is why what happened this weekend was so... big.

Jason and I have been hanging out here and there and this weekend we decided to have a nice night in at my place.

I don't know what I picked up, but mid way through the evening, I knew I was going to be sick.   It hit me pretty hard and Jason was cooking, and the smell just made it all the more intense and so I excused myself and went to my room to try to breathe through it.

(In retrospect, I should have just taken a Gravol and hoped for the best, but I didn't want to get groggy, but anyway.)

But here's what was weird.  At least for me.  I didn't want Jason to leave.

Like, I didn't want to kick him out.  I didn't want him to have to see me throwing up or anything but I also didn't want him to go home. 

He figured out something was wrong when I didn't come back after a while and he came in to check on me.  I wasn't exactly polite and told him to "PLEASE GET OUT!" and he asked if I wanted him to go home.  I said no, just... out of the room.

He went back to cooking, which I felt badly about that he was making this lovely meal and there was no way I was going to be able to eat it.

And I had a big struggle with myself, mentally, because I have a really hard time asking for help.  Like, a really hard time with it.  But I'm trying to not always stick with the things that don't serve me, and Jason, because I don't quite have a lot invested in him being "perfect" or thinking certain things about me, I don't know, but I kind of had this feeling of... maybe I could just ask him for help.  Like I felt like he wouldn't judge me or think it was annoying.  So I called for him.

"Jason?"

He came back into my dark, quiet room where I was wrapped up in my blankets, shivering.  "Can you bring me a bucket?"

And he did.

Which, I know it's what friends do, it's what boyfriends do (if he was one... which he isn't... not...anyway) it's what people do, but it's not something I ask for.  For someone to take care of me, or help me when I'm weak.

He finished cooking dinner, wrapped mine up and ate his (at my insistence) and then came in to see me.

I really didn't want him in the room, but he came and lay down next to me.  I felt like panicking, and told him so, told him that I was going to be sick and he'd hate it and think I was disgusting and gross and that it was freaking me out that he was there.

He told me that he wouldn't hate it, it wouldn't make him think I was disgusting or gross or anything at all.  That it was ok, and shit happens and it wouldn't be the first friend he'd helped through feeling sick.

And, well, long story semi short... for the first time since I was probably a small child, I threw up in front of someone.  It happened.

And it was ok.

He didn't leave when it happened.  He didn't get grossed out himself.  He asked me if I was ok, got me Ginger Ale, gave me a hug and held me when I felt better.

I know it's only throwing up.  But for me, it was huge.

It was huge to let myself be weak and gross and at my worst in front of someone, and I'm glad it happened. 

I let someone see me at my worst and the world didn't fall apart.

I asked someone to help me when I was at my worst and they did.  And they didn't seem to mind.

Maybe I need to let down my guard more frequently.

Maybe that's part of what having Jason in my life is going to help me do.

I don't know, I just know it was a pretty significant thing that happened for me, and maybe for us, and even if I'm the only one that knows how significant it all was, that's ok.