A hugely significant impact on my mental health is my continual yet invisible struggle with irritable bowel syndrome. Ahhh, IBS, you farting, gurgling, embarrassment of a thing.
A few years ago now I started a side-tumblr about my struggles (https://intestinecork.tumblr.com/ **be warned** there is talk of poo and farts and sadness and anger). When I did this I started to see the vast array of experiences of this thing. People like me having to plan toilet stops, have mental maps of the closest loo, have hours laying flat waiting for the wind to pass and so on. It isn’t just me.
This week has been possibly my worst experience of the ‘intestine cork’ as I call it. Maybe it was the mango I et, or maybe a piece of bread snuck in..? The thing that gets me (and I know those living with IBS all over the place feel the same) is the amount of people who apparently ‘know’. If I just ate more healthily and excersized I would be okay. This makes the guilt feel like a red mark of shame cuts across my face as I eat chips… knowing they are easy on my tummy.
Having a partner I can talk to openly is pretty significant, no shame, no blame but someone to be honest with about how I am feeling and what my gutty-wuts is doing! Thanks you! Love love love and sorry…
Googling IBS does not explain my symptoms. Your gut does not illustrate my gut. It is weird in there. Maybe a poo transplant will help, believe me I am considering it (https://www.sbs.com.au/ondemand/video/28413507621/michael-mosley-guts).