I haven’t written about me, or my IBS, or my EDS, or my anxiety or any of that in awhile. Don’t worry though, we’re all still here, hanging out at home all day. It’s cool. Choux Choux is here, too, so she takes the edge off.
Seriously, though, I am coming out of a massive…flare? Disaster? Large Scale Attack? on the IBS front. First things first, I realized that each time I would have a surprise diarrhea attack, I would immediately, and somewhat seriously consider suicide.
This is bad.
So finally I came clean (ha ha ha) to my spouse, from whom I hid most of my problems with a Victorian level of secrecy, because naturally if he even knew I had a colon and that it malfunctions he would of course immediately leave me. I said all the words I vowed never to say, like “diarrhea” and “suicide” and “cannot live this way.” My shrink was very proud of me. It was exactly like they say in every stupid Lifetime feel-good release your secrets kind of thing in that I immediately felt better. My gut didn’t, it’s resistant, but I did.
So much better that, while I was waiting at the vet to have the cat seen for her most recent Fight Club adventure, and my lunch notified me that it was leaving the building post-haste, I did not wish for death. I said to myself, “I am actually really fucking glad that I have the cat with me right now, since she’s in the Box of Meow and I can walk away from her” and “They have a bathroom and it’s clean and available and that’s good.”
Guys. This is like maybe I won’t have to be reincarnated again and can go on to whatever it is instead of coming back here to earth and doing this shit all over one more time.
Also, I figured out two things about my recent bout. Thing one is that I think I have been poisoning myself for years with red wine, which has sulfites, which I am allergic to (and which I knew, because I have asthma). Why didn’t I think it was an issue? Because up until I found out that my preferred wine retailer voted for Trump and I therefore boycotted them and switched to boxed wine from Walmart, I was not drinking AS MUCH sulfites as I assume are in box wine. Thing two is that I was once again (for the JILLIONTH time) hoodwinked into believing that something in the world of supplements (swindler’s world) would help, and started taking something called, horrifyingly, Intense Bowel Support (which had to be hidden and taken secretly because I was a freak). It is supposed to be taken with food, and has a digestive enzyme component.
Want Dumping Syndrome? Take that when you eat. Digestive enzymes do their job just a bit too well, it turns out.
As anyone who is chronically ill knows, it is tempting to think that you have found THE THING THAT FIXES EVERYTHING. In reality, what you end up doing is finding Some Things that Fix Some Things Some Times. More Often Than Not is really your best case scenario, and if you can accept that, and not go back to “It’s back I must kill myself” and instead say, “Oh, well, yes, this one time in 20 days, which is way better than every third day when the Immodium wore off” then you will actually be happier.
So, things I am doing:
No red wine. I switched to Vodka. Not only did my gut respond, some of my flushing issues got better.
No Swindling Supplements. None. My body can make what it needs ffs.
Chia seeds. Chia are my front line bullet sponges, hanging out in there, doing border security and slowing things down. Skip my daily 2 tablespoons in cherry juice and things go wrong.
Hypnosis. YES. WOO WOO to the fucking WOO. I don’t care. It’s 25 minutes, it has no side effects, it makes me relax, and I feel a little bit more like I can handle my life. Is my gut getting the unconscious hypnotic suggestions? Dunno. Aside from having to say to one’s teenager “I have to go do my self hypnosis for IBS and I CANNOT be disturbed” it’s pretty painless.
So why am I telling you this? Because maybe you are searching and searching and asking the Dr Google Oracle to help you with something you are so embarrassed about you have to open an incognito tab just to do it, and maybe you find me, or you find some other blog (diarrheanurse.com is WONDERFUL) and maybe you feel less alone? Less like you are never going to be okay? Less like a freak? And maybe I feel better for letting go so some shame–which, honestly, why do we shame ourselves about our bodies? How weird are we? We are weird, man, pretty fucking weird.