(Hopefully) Beating IBS or How I Got My Life Quality Back

Anyone suffering from IBS knows exactly what I’m talking about. The constant issues, often coming out of the blue, when you least expect or need it.

I first came in touch with this illness three years ago while on my first trip to a friend who lives in Scotland. The day we planned on going to explore beautiful Edinburgh (which required a car drive of about one and a half hours from where she lives), I suddenly had those symptoms – I could barely get out of the bathroom, thinking maybe the cereal I ate that morning was the problem, that my digestive tract didn’t like what it was given, that it couldn’t cope with the dietary fibre inside it. Today I know that I actually am not able to actually digest the dietary fibres and other stuff that’s in oatmeal, for example, but back then, it was all new. I felt so tired the entire morning that I felt like sleeping for the rest of my life. And even though it was sort of embarrassing to talk about that stuff with one of the most important people/friends in my life, face to face, when she asked me about all the symptoms I had had before and that day, it was soon clear that I obviously suffered from IBS. And though it was a bit of a shock to have a name for it, it was also a relief knowing that I might be able to do something about it, because ever since knowing, I realized how limited my life had become.

I finally knew what happened when I was in new or uncomfortable (e.g. nervousness because of dates or job interviews, meeting new people for the first time, doctor’s appointments), or, especially recently, psychologically stressful and challenging situations (my current work situation, constant worries that “something” will happen while I’m out and can’t go to a bathroom I’m comfortable with, hygiene-wise). It went so far that ever since I had a protracted stomach bug last december, my every day life was often a fight. I basically lived on rusk, Perenterol, charcoal tablets and Loperamide for months – with especially the latter not being healthy if you take it longer than two days in a row, but I felt like I had no choice. I popped those things like Tic Tac’s, and I ate even less than I already do (due to a slight eating disorder) because I felt like no matter what I put into my mouth, it would result in new issues all over again, and even the slightest weird feeling in my stomach made me start to panic – resulting in me weighing as little as I ever have in the past couple of years (46,7kg at 1,71m). I have lost count of the number of sick days I pulled at work because I was feeling like “something was coming on”, and though my boss always seems understanding about it (because he claims having similar problems), there’s only so much understanding a boss can feign and have.

I avoided my beloved Latte Macchiato or cereal in the mornings because the milk and/or the caffeine would result in hours of feeling uncomfortable and the urge to run to the bathroom, “just in case”. I stopped eating pizza and cake/pie because I was paranoid that those things also made me react with IBS symptoms (especially the cake, it seemed, when it came out of a freezer). I even went to a gastroenterologist to test whether it was actually a lactose/fructose/gluten intolerance, and the results of all of them came back negative, which left me absolutely desperate and hopeless, because I just didn’t know what to do to stop this.

This was the moment I decided that no matter how skint I was, how little I should and could actually afford it, I needed to take action and get a special medication from the pharmacy called “Kijimea”, which is known to be quite expensive, but the only REAL help with IBS if you take it constantly every day for at least 4 weeks, better 6 weeks. It is proven that after that time, the IBS symptoms and whatever comes with it disappear for good, and though I never actually believed it, I found myself at a point where I was so desperate and trapped in some sort of depression because of my limited life quality that I decided to give it a shot. And today, after two weeks and one day, I can honestly say: FUCK, IT WORKS.

The pharmacist said it would still take quite a while for my body/digestive tract to get used to it and regenerate completely, but that the first results will already be palpable after two or three days. I never believed that kind of stuff, but in that case, I say it again: FUCK IT WORKS. It’s not completely gone yet, but I can say with pride and relief that I already got back some of my life quality. I barely take the fore mentioned pills anymore, I feel more relaxed (although almost every morning when I’m almost at the office, I have a short, tiny setback, but that’s probably due to the current stressful situation) and safer about it than I have in years. I even feel happier and calmer when I’m out for a walk through the city, or meeting up with friends, or walk home for one and a half hours instead of taking the tube where I can sit safely. There are still days that I feel the bubbling in my stomach and am slightly worried what is going on, but those moments have become a bit rarer in the past two weeks.

And though there are still two weeks left of the Kijimea treatment, I can actually say that I have part of my life quality back, and there’s barely anything these days that leaves me happier and more satisfied than that. They say that health is the most important thing, that it doesn’t matter whether you’re rich of have loads of friends or a loving boyfriend/husband. I never believed that before, I admit that, but ever since that treatment is actually helping, I do.

There’s nothing more important than health, and you have to cherish it as long as you can possibly do, because you only have this one life.

Locked In

As I’ve just finished John Green’s “Turtles All The Way Down”, it left me so impressed by its story and theme that I feel the need to express some things.

Though I can truly identify with her, I am not entirely like its main character, Aza Holmes. I do not have huge mental health issues; I do not have a massive fear of germs, bacteria, becoming sick, or constantly think about all the things that could happen to me, healthwise. I have my own little issues, though – when I’m getting nervous about something, or excited, or angry, or worried, I get IBS symptoms that mentally pull me down for a while and limit my life’s quality, together with migraine attacks every now and then. In no way has my life lost its entire quality as it has Aza’s, but I get how it is when you feel locked in your own head. Your thoughts whirl around it over and over; for example: when I had another migraine attack, or severe IBS problems, it takes days for me to stop worrying about when the next attack will happen, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t change that. I kinda learned to live with it, but it’s different with people in my life who don’t know what it’s like to be somewhat locked in yourself, and not just healthwise.

I have currently come across a huge disappointment by someone I cared a lot about, someone who has become more of a friend than an acquaintance over the past year since we spend every day together. And though I know its somewhat not her fault, because sometimes things just happen, and I also could’ve been clearer and realized sooner why it bothered me so much, I can’t help myself with these exhausting thoughts in my head that keep eating me up for the past couple of weeks. Fun fact: I am totally fine with it when I’m at home, or out somewhere, or with friends, but as soon as the prospect of being confronted by the situation in person again – which, frankly, is every single day, – my mind darkens, and especially the IBS issues become worse again, despite currently working on that with special medication. And I hate it, because the truth is – I miss that person, that “friend”, the way we were before I addressed her over two months ago, the way everything was perfectly good between us, and how close we were. Because I love her being my reference person every day, the way she made me smile and laugh and how she made every day so much more bearable. But the truth is, I am so locked in my grief, my disappointment and some sort of feeling betrayed (due to her suspecting me being bothered but not addressing me about it the way I did with her before) that I just can’t go back to how we were, I can’t treat us the way I did before. I see her and the other person, and I become this green-eyed thing, who gets aggressive, pissed off and hateful. My mind darkens and I feel like crying and screaming and throwing stuff around. And I know I’m going to “lose” her eventually entirely to this other person if I keep being a bitch, that she’ going to turn to that person being her reference person even more and I hate myself being like that, but I kinda am like Aza – I can’t help it, and I am sorry because it makes it so hard for people/friends around me to understand and get along just fine with me. And I want to forgive so badly, but I feel like I just CAN’T, because my mind won’t let me.

For example: I would not see myself as an attention-seeker; I hate being the center of attention, even on, say, my birthday, but every now and then, I just want people to put me there, to ask me whether I am okay, if I want to talk, if I want to meet up, if they should come meeting you, especially. And I am not talking about the very few people that always do that, those very few good friends, but maybe, other people I am in constant contact with, people you can have a great, fun time with, but feel with like it’s all just superficial, and you just feel that that is not enough. But your mind, which has locked you in, just doesn’t allow you to say that out loud, to just admit what bothers you because you don’t want to be a problem that they talk about behind your back, although at the same time, you just want to scream it out loud to them, to be the thing they care and worry about in that moment; because you have no right to tell anybody what to do, simply because YOU don’t want anybody to tell you what to do or say or think, to please others. It’s just not right.

And that’s why you keep pulling back from people, though you actually don’t always want to. But you want to pull out of uncomfortable situations, situations that somehow keep making you sick, even if those other people won’t understand it, and eventually just leave you because you don’t behave “normally”, and you just stop trying to explain yourself because it’s tiring and feels like running in circles.

I feel it’s especially hard to be me these days because in my heart, I don’t want to be like that. I want to smile and enjoy being alive, enjoy having some great people in my life, and having the opportunities to meet more people and just have a good time with them, and be happy for others who currently might be on their way into a new relationship, even if it hurts me, because I care enough about them to be happy for them. Or just enjoy people’s company because they are so openly positive about life that it should be an inspiration instead of a constant struggle with myself whether to open myself up, to forget what bothers me and look ahead instead of back to all past heartbreaks and disappointments.

But the truth is: just like Aza, my head doesn’t let me. It keeps me alert and easily shaken by things that “normal” people just move on from after a short while. And it keeps me always worrying about the “What if?’s” in life: What if the IBS comes back while you’re out? What if they get together? What if you have another migraine at the office? What if you join meetings and will feel left out, like the 3rd wheel, even if it’s not the case? What if you tell the guy you fancy how you feel or for his number and a date and he’ll turn you down? WHAT. FUCKING. IF.

My dream is to one day not being that locked in my own mind and thoughts anymore, without professional help or medication, especially with the current situation I’m in. To just be and just live like “normal” people do.