When I was in high school and spending way too much time at my local Barnes and Noble, one of the most memorable books I picked up to read was It’s Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini. What makes it stand out in my mind is not necessarily the writing style or the plot or even the characters, but the fact that it was the first time I’d ever encountered a description of something that up until that point, I was almost certain I was alone in experiencing: chronic anxiety-induced vomiting.
Apparently, we’ve come a long way since 2006. Several of this year’s biggest films feature main characters suffering from this same affliction, including Lorene Scafaria’s Hustlers, Elizabeth Banks’ Charlie’s Angels reboot, and Rian Johnson’s spectacular whodunnit, Knives Out. In particular, Knives Out takes the concept and poses a hypothetical I’ve never even considered: what if my unfortunate physiological response to anxiety was actually useful?
(CW: anxiety, depression, puke.)
Vomit on screen is nothing new, and I realize this. Trust me. I am the person at the movie who’s friends warn “don’t look,” not because of gratuitous violence or a frightening image but because someone on screen is about to puke. Most people who know me know that I have Emetophobia, which is the umbrella categorization for a phobia pertaining to vomit. Specifically, I am terrified of seeing or hearing other people throw up (though I’ve gotten a lot better about watching it in movies). It’s lucky that I’m not afraid of throwing up myself, because ironically, my body’s automatic response to anxiety is sudden and intense nausea that often leads to vomiting.
It started when I was in elementary school. I felt sick to my stomach all the time, a constant nausea which led my mother to take me to a variety of doctors, not a single one of whom suggested anxiety as a possible diagnosis. My mysterious stomach condition continued through middle school and into high school. By that time I’d already experienced my first depressive episode and had been diagnosed with OCD, so I finally had an explanation for that terrible feeling in my stomach. Still, it seemed unfair that my anxiety, something I was desperate to hide from other people, was so insistent on manifesting itself physically. One time, making out with a boy in the backseat of my car, I started to think too much about what was happening and suddenly felt like I had to vomit. I tried to make up some excuse that would allow me to peel out of there as quickly as possible, but it was taking too long and eventually I had to hop out of the backseat and throw up in the bushes. (When I came back to the car, he asked, “was I that bad at kissing?”)
There is a scene in Knives Out that perfectly exemplifies what it’s like to live with something like this. Marta, a character who physically cannot tell a lie without puking, finds herself in a tough spot when she’s forced into a moment of dishonesty with no means of escape. The character she’s just lied to is walking around her car to get in the passenger seat, and in those ten seconds of alone time after her lie, she grabs an empty coffee cup and vomits into it as stealthily as she possibly can before the door opens and she has to pretend everything is normal.
pre-puke? post-puke? both?
It’s a funny gag (sorry), and it certainly ramps up the film’s tension, but to me, it also felt like a moment of recognition. Everyone wants to see themselves represented on film, and although it’s not my favorite thing about myself by a long shot, there was something weirdly empowering about seeing it in one of this year’s most talked-about movies. It was like picking up that copy of It’s Kind of a Funny Story all those years ago — realizing I’m not quite as isolated as I thought I was.
Like I mentioned before, Knives Out is not the only film this year with an anxiety vomiter. In an article for Refinery 29, Anne Cohen writes about 2019’s proliferation of women puking in the movies and why the trend might exist in the first place. Unlike some of these other films mentioned where the nervous vomiting is simply a character quirk, Marta’s condition in Knives Out exists not just to help us understand Marta as a person, but also to serve the film’s plot. Her anxiety is specific to dishonesty, and because she cannot lie, the detectives know that they can use her as an aid in their murder investigation. In this way, her anxiety becomes a tool — one that, by the end of the film, she learns how to wield herself.
At 15, It’s Kind of a Funny Story was a big deal to me simply because it was an acknowledgement of my experience. More than a decade later, Knives Out plays one my worst weaknesses as a kind of strength. For me, that’s revelatory.
For what it’s worth, I’d like to dedicate this blog post to the author of It’s Kind of a Funny Story, Ned Vizzini, who died by suicide in 2013. Thanks for making this teenager feel seen.