You’ll get the title reference in a few minutes.

So we all know how much I love to talk, and we all know how much I talk about things that are uncomfortable, or uneasy blah blah blah… well today is going to be no different.  Today I want to talk to you all about IBS, and if you are not prepared for the hilarity of this shit, quite really, feel free to back away from this blog right now.

d98039b9bb17579a226070f2a79d6d22Alright for those of you that are still with me, I am going to try and keep this short.  IBS, if you don’t know, stands for irritable bowel syndrome.  Insert second chance to get out while you can… vacate… literally!  Yes, I eye-rolled at myself on that one.

As I have talked about in previous blogs, I have a hard time eating when I am stressed and my anxiety is high, a stress starver rather than stress eater, if you will.  And here is where a few will say, “oh what a problem to have, Tracy!”  But as a part of a mental health issue, it really is.  Also, when I am at the worst of this illness, my stomach utterly revolts, so even if I manage to keep anything down, it doesn’t end well… pun intended!

After a few months on my new anxiety meds, I went back to my doctor because I was still not gaining any weight back.  I had lost around 20 pounds, that I had no business losing, and I had high hopes that the new meds would help calm me enough to at least eat.  That may sound silly to some, but when battling your own mind, in a fight for your mere existence, you take the small wins where you can.  As we sat in the office reviewing all kinds of the embarrassing and awful fun things that I deal with.  One of such awesome topics was bowel movements… yay!  Now my doctor is young, and God knows he knows entirely too much about me, :: makes mental note for next visit he is an MD not your therapist :: so it ends up being a serious, but laughing matter… jokes for cover, my MO.

So he is asking me all these questions and running tests and he finally says, “you have IBS.”

To which I reply, “Uh Doc, I know this is your arena but I just got finished telling you that sometimes I do go all the time, but then other times don’t go for days.  IBS is I Basically Shit all the time, isn’t it?”

Apparently, I am not smarter than him as I for an instant, suspected, and this little syndrome is a common part of mental health issues.  There have been a lot of new studies in regards to the super highway, aka septic system apparently, that links our brain to stomach.  The short version is that just when you think having anxiety cannot get any worse, it rears it’s ugly head and lets out a “MUAHAHAHAHAHA, you have no idea the shit I can stir!”

:: side eye, shaking head and fists… Damn you, you shitty disease! ::

There is a direct link between the part of the brain that has improper performance and a drastic chemical imbalance, which is anxiety, and the muscle movement in the stomach muscles.  This means panic usually equals the shits, quite simply, and it stinks! Again, quite literally!

Anywho, there I was visiting a friend with a toddler, and IBS was like, “time to play, yay!”  Rude….but knowing that I do not have a choice, I ran to the closest bathroom, like “great, just effing great ya jerk!”.  This bathroom has the cutest little Nemo décor ever.  The kind of happy Dory towels that say to a potty training toddler, “way to go big boy, you’re doing great, look at you go!”
This is what I looked up to see…

img_3668

 

And then realizing it was a much different situation, Nemo on the left was like “Oh, whoa… maybe less of that lady, for the love of god.”

 

Judgmental little bastard.  We all poop okay!  Yes, even ladies! UGH – image destroyer.

So there is my shit story… enjoy the rest of your day!

Yours truly, bringing you the ugly truths of real life… PEACE!

T