#i understand that grief is the cost of love but it’s physically exhausting to cry this much

[yawpyawp]

a year ago today i had to say goodbye to my amazing boye Pi

i miss him so much every day

[typometrics]

Socionics: (+/− Functions)

(source) - Russian translation

"The sign of a function in socioanalysis transmits the following aspects. First, it indicates the quality of the function: "+" a positive assessment of the quality, "−" a negative evaluation. Second, it indicates the scale of function: "+" means details, specifics, "−" means large scale, a general plan, a global consideration. Third, it indicates the distance of the effect of the function: "+" means that the function manifests at a short distance from the reference point, "−" means at a far distance. Fourth, the sign reflects the direction of the function: "+" means addition, acceptance, movement towards oneself, "−" means separation, return, movement away from oneself [1]. The term "aspects", used by V. V. Gulenko here, carries the connotation of "the contextual side of properties of functions."

Quality 

+ sign - the "positive", competence in the positive zone of properties and incompetence in the negative zone; 

− sign - withdrawal from the "negative", leaving negative properties for positive ones, competence in both positive and negative zones; 

Scale 

+ sign - locality, the "big plan", concretization, detalization within the sphere of the function; 

− sign - globality, "the general plan," universality of the function; 

Direction 

+ sign - the orientation into the sphere of the responsibility of the function (interest in protection of "own circle"); 

− sign - the orientation outside of the sphere of responsibility of the function (influence, "pressure" exerted on other "localities"); 

Distance 

+ sign - "close" psychological distance; 

− sign - "far" psychological distance.

Basing on the proposed placement of signs of functions, we can decipher the meaning of each of combination. Socionic functions ... carry, in our view, the following semantic content:

+ Fe  - positive emotions, joy, merriment, emotional elation, excitement, a smile, laughter, enthusiasm, optimism, good mood, the experience of happiness; 

− Fe  - negative emotions, grief, sorrow, sadness, emotional recession, depression, crying, tears, frustration, pessimism, poor mood, the experience of unhappiness;

+ Fi  - good relations, love, friendship, affection, attraction, warmth in relations, sociability, close psychological distance, goodness, compassion; 

− Fi  - poor relations, hatred, animosity, antipathy, repulsion, indifference in relations, alienation, unsociability, remote psychological distance, wickedness, mercilessness;

+ Te  - useful, beneficial, economical, technology, facts, acquisition, stockpiling, purchases, savings, bringing order, practicality; 

− Te  - useless, unprofitable, wasteful, utilization, deterioration, exhaustion, costs, expenses, risk-taking, experimentation, sales, trade, action in atmosphere of chaos, ingenuity;

+ Ti  - specificity, itemization, detailed study, thoroughness, accuracy, strictness, place in hierarchy, regulations, instructions, choosing the best option, precision of function, logic of organization, indicators, reporting; 

− Ti  - abstractness, generality, universality, system, classification, typology, general regularities, objectivity, truth, justice, comprehensive review, analysis, dissection, the logic of science, criteria;

+ Ne  - prospects, opportunities, positive potential, core meaning, essence, principle, new ideas, advancing hypotheses, theory, insight, interest, originality, unusual, fantastical, hopefulness;

− Ne  - hopelessness, alternatives, negative potential, meaninglessness, absurdity, paradox, the forgotten and the old, insight, mediocrity, commonness, repressed possibilities, reality, disbelief, sensation[hit];

+ Ni  - future, change in the situation over time, prediction, premonition, gradual development, evolution, gradual ascent, the dynamics of change, the flow of time, imagination, harmonious description, subtle step-by-step changes, convergence, confluence; 

− Ni  - past, accounting for errors, avoidance of danger, anxiety, a worrying premonition, a warning, the ripening of a crisis, revolution, a leap in time, ability to hedge against troubles, sudden shifts, discordant description, the moment of decisive action, divergence, deviation;

+ Se  - retention of power, insubordination, defense, cover, countermove, counterattack, firmness, defense of one's interests, strong-willed pressure from the bottom upwards, strength, will, possession; 

− Se  - capture of power, subjugation, offensive attack, initiative, perseverance, determination, demands, strong-willed pressure from top downwards, the assertion of own interests at the expense of others, overthrowing, appropriating, weakness, passivity;

+ Si  - pleasant sensations, comfort, convenience, harmony, beauty, attraction, leisure, health, relaxation, well-being, pleasure, enjoyment, sensitivity; 

− Si  - unpleasant thrill sensations, discomfort, inconvenience, disharmony, ugliness, unattractiveness, work, fatigue, stress, illness, suffering, pain [1].

"The plus (+) sign is usually associated with a trait of sustainability, immobility, while minus (–) sign is associated with a trait of transience, mobility. An example from physics: negatively charged electrons are in motion around the positively charged atomic nucleus. Consequently, the static trait is positive and dynamic trait is negative”

“I will be considering the top ring of model A, irrespective of which sociotype is being considered, as the static one, and the bottom ring – as the dynamic one. The ring of stabilization (top ring) is, therefore, a carrier of positive charge, and the ring of development (lower ring) is thus negatively charged. The ring of stabilization can thus be considered functional, and the ring of development – dysfunctional."

ALPHA: (-)Judging/(+)Perceiving

LII (-Ti/+Ne), ESE (-Fe/+Si), SEI (+Si/-Fe), ILE (+Ne/-Ti)

-Fe = minimization or avoidance of negative emotions, prevention of quarrels, scandals, and other situations causing emotional instability, which is valued as more important than creation of positive emotional effect.

-Ti = global structural logic. Systematic analysis is the instrument that they use in understanding the world. They are primarily interested in the universal laws that govern its workings. To that end, all traditions, conventions and restrictions are discarded. Everything is subjected to analysis, redefinition, analogies. Their main goal that they are pursuing is the creation of a comprehensive, breathtaking, singular picture of the world. The idea of unity, reasonableness and the fairness in all things permeates their vision completely.

+Si = positive feelings of comfort. They cannot effectively realize their potential if their lifestyle is full of hardships. Style of activity is characterized by relaxation, freedom, by conveniences. Relations with the external environment, where their activities unfold, must be friendly and pleasant. Their groups are always comfortable, relaxed as if at home, and never rough or eccentric.

+Ne = promising ideas. In this quadra, which can be attributed the element of air, there are frequent talks about the future, the unexplored and unknown possibilities. They may seem to be incorrigible dreamers. And this is so: they look out further than anyone, beyond the horizon, they put forward "crazy" theories and discuss them with pleasure. Some of these theories, however, are destined to have long lives, so long that they will outlast their creators.

BETA: (+)Judging/(-)Perceiving

LSI (+Ti/-Se), EIE (+Fe/-Ni), IEI (-Ni/+Fe), SLE (-Se/+Ti)

+Fe = maximization of positive emotions. Even small doses are enjoyed. Against the backdrop of the dramatic, turbulent emotions that always accompany this quadra, every small occurrence deserving a positive response is seen as an occasion for joy and uplifts their spirits.

+Ti = organizational logic. They have a developed sense of duty, citizenship, loyalty to the elected project. It is therefore the most disciplined and organized quadra that knows how to quickly rally its forces in the event of imminent danger or emergency situations.

-Se = minimization of weaknesses, i.e. steadfastness in the struggle against deprivation and resistance against the enemy. In this quadra, the force of will is an indispensable condition for effective operation. Persistence, determination, endurance and firmness are always the supreme authority.

-Ni = desire to bypass danger. They aim to avoid previously committed mistakes. In their groups, experience, skill, know-how, sophistication are highly valued. They feel confident in extreme situations.

GAMMA: (-)Judging/(+)Perceiving

ESI (-Fi/+Se), LIE (-Te/+Ni), ILI (+Ni/-Te), SEE (+Se/-Fi)

-Fi = minimization of negative relationships. This element is critical of evil. They desire to get away from bad people and poor relationships, and to protect themselves from enemies and adversaries. They want to minimize negative experiences, because as we know from psychoanalysis, all extruded problems are liable to generate an emotional reaction one way or another, with a physical cost for the purification of the subconscious.

-Te = business logic of risk and entrepreneurship. For them it is characteristic to reject that which is useless, insignificant, mundane. This aspect is valued as more important than accumulation and rational consumption. Gammas successfully operate in environments of economic scarcity, where in order to survive it is necessary to use something that may appear useless at first glace, but which is present in abundance.

+Se = durability and resistance. This quadra is well capable of defending itself and its position. For them power is not easy to acquire, as to do this they must resist the volitional Beta quadra. However, once it is seized, they can hold on to it despite all attempts at restoration. Protectiveness, ability to defend themselves against all force, ability to keep that which was acquired - these are the principles that they respect. This quadra can be called the quadra of criticism and reforms. In contrast to the 'fire' Beta quadra, which is oriented primarily politically, this quadra is oriented more socially.

+Ni = constraining their hot temper, these sociotypes prefer to advance gradually into the future, though they may sharply reject obsolete ideas, criticizing past mistakes. Advancing step by step, they generally believe in the linearity of development, i.e. according to their deep convictions, it is only necessary to remove obstacles, remnants of the past, and immediately this will open endless possibilities for growth. This quadra is not afraid of chaos and upheavals: they know how to conduct their work under conditions of change, risk and confusion.

DELTA: (+)Judging/(-)Perceiving

EII (+Fi/-Ne), LSE (+Te/-Si), SLI (-Si/+Te), IEE (-Ne/+Fi)

+Fi = positive, warm relationships. Psychological factors play a vital role for them. Without recognition of ethical values such as individuality and the uniqueness of others, religion and spirituality, non-interference in others lives, concrete humanism, etc., the stability they strongly desire is hardly possible.

+Te = logic of use and rational management of resources. This is the most cost-conscious quadra that consumes rationally and prefers high-quality long-lasting products. Risk, rushed jobs, economic chaos and manipulation are not characteristic of this quadra. The society of quality consumption should be stable.

-Si = minimization of discomfort. They value good working conditions and are reluctant to change their routines. This element excludes harmful influences from external environment. This quadra cannot work during emergencies. They highly value convenience, comfort at their workplace, and good coordination at work.

-Ne = the unusual, alternative and bizarre. Despite its groundedness, this quadra respects unusual and talented people who offer creative alternative possibilities. The spread of new information is not impeded, no matter how avant-garde it might be. In Delta groups, there occur periodic flashes of sensationalism and spikes of interest centered around original people who put forward alternative ideas of development.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

DOTW 60 - full draft (purely self indulgent)

Levi felt like a single parent with three kids. It was hard to admit it, but as hard as Eren was working to get better, his omega was still struggling. Some days Eren would barely talk to him, or look at him. Some days he'd start the morning with the sound of Eren's screams in his ears and some days Eren couldn't even get out of bed, having stressed himself to the point of being physically ill, locking himself in his room with Viren. His mate had come leaps and bounds with Viren. The tiny pup was now three months old, and a bundle of happiness... most of the time... lately, at least. As the seasons had changed, he'd grown much more vocal about every tiny displeasure. Levi was sure neither of them had slept for the last week of January through to the middle of February. Their exhaustion making for some pretty impressive yelling matches, followed by apologies until all they needed to do was look at each other to know they both deeply regretted it. Eren was now comfortable enough to feed their son, without the tears, but things between him and his mate felt... distant. They'd cuddle when they went to sleep, Eren usually passing out the moment his head hit the pillow, but come morning, Eren would be up and working hard on his course work, or his mate was curled into the corner of the sofa with Viren in his hold. Titan still wasn't sure about the tiny boy, he didn't seem to mind him if he wasn't crying. Each time the pup would cry, the fat tom would run to whoever wasn't holding the pup for safe cuddles. Having just become a new mum, the omega had reached out to Shinganshima TAFE and asked to turn the three month course into a six month course. In Levi's opinion, Eren could have handled the work... but it wasn't his call to make. Eren had to do what felt right for him... even if it meant his mate was more interested in books than talking with him. It wasn't just the lack of talking weighing him down. His omega wouldn't let him see him naked. The third time he'd walked in on Eren showering and sent him into a shaking ball of fear, Levi had just given up. He didn't want to jump Eren's bone... Ok. He did. He missed the sex they'd had while Eren was pregnant. How insatiable his mate had been for his body... but he missed his cuddles even more. He missed waking to Eren's hair tickling his nose irritatingly. He missed the small kisses and secret whispers they shared at night. He just... he missed Eren being his mate, rather than this thing between them that he didn't have the words for. He knew Eren could feel his irritation through their bond, and he knew it weighed heavily on the omegas mind, but he was too chicken shit to call him out on it. He was too scared that one wrong word could lead to Eren giving up on himself and ruining his chances of recovery. When he thought things through, Levi also knew he was to blame. His nightmares had been almost out control at the start of the new year. Every time he woke to find Eren wasn't in bed, or if the omega was taking too long in the bathroom for his alpha's liking, he'd grow unfairly angry. Talking to Krista may have helped a small fraction, but he was struggling to let Eren out of his sights. He felt like a stalker in his own home... and like one of those pathetically jealous, obsessive and controlling alphas that he loathed so much. He didn't check Eren's calls or emails. He didn't go through Eren's mail or demand all he passwords. He didn't invade into Eren's space like that... but he fucking wanted to, and that was bad enough. * Climbing out of bed, Levi rubbed his face. Once again, Eren wasn't in there room and his heart was going crazy over it. Padding softly out the bedroom, his joints complained at the movement, on the colder mornings his left hand felt like it'd seized in place, and his thigh would throb as if the bullet was still in there. It was strange to think the only bullet wound that didn't still give him grief was the one that could cost him the most. The last of his leave was coming up, and at this stage, Levi didn't even know if he was fit to go back into the field "Morning, Brat" Levi's tone was gruffer than expected, Eren's wide green eyes looked almost fearful before he slowly smiled "Hey. How'd you sleep?" Like shit... "Alright. How's our pup this morning?" Eren looked down to the bundle in his arms "He's a sleep. I didn't want to move incase I woke him" "How long have you been up?" "Umm... about three hours. The baby monitor woke me, and you looked so peaceful sleeping" "You could have woken me!" Fuck. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he really hadn't meant to snap "I'm sorry. I'm going to take a shower, then I'll make us breakfast" "I made a quiche for breakfast, it's on the counter under the foil" "Right. Ok" So Eren would have already eaten breakfast... there went that chance to talk... "Don't forget Hanji is dropping Anna off today" That was news to him. The longest they'd been out the house since Viren's birth was for the little girl's birthday party. They'd both had their own follow up appointments, as well as Viren's own appointments. Their son officially registered as Viren Farlan Ackerman, and Levi couldn't be prouder. Eren really hadn't been doing great mentally, but didn't want to miss Anna's birthday party. Levi had no idea when he'd ordered the girl's present, only that he'd found himself on the tag and in the card "What do you mean Hanji is dropping Anna off today?" "We talked about this" "No. I think I'd remember something like that" "Hanji has a 30 hour shift" "Then Hanji should have sorted something else out. You can barely function as it is, let alone chase after a pup and a 15 month old" Eren's wide eyes opened further, fat tears rushed down his face "Eren. I'm sorry. It's just..." "It's just what Levi!?" Whisper yelling, Eren rose from the sofa "You're barely coping at it is. We don't talk anymore. You won't spend a full night in our bed and you don't even let me hold you. Then, you spend days locked up in your room all day. What am I supposed to do? Is it just tough luck when I need someone to talk to?" "It's not like that" "Then for god's sake, tell me what it is like. Because from over here, you feel more like a roommate than a fiancée" "I'm not fighting in front of Viren" Carrying their son off to the nursery, Eren didn't return. Shaking his head at himself, he'd really fucked that one up. Standing in the nursery, Eren was gripping the side of the cot, staring down at Viren as Levi approached. His alpha firmly scolding him for being an arse to their mate. He needed to talk this through and find a way to make Eren understand he angered because he'd well and truly passed the stage where worry only applied "Eren" "I... thought it would get better" "What's that supposed to mean?" "I don't... I thought if I just kept doing what I had to, things would work out... but my body's ruined" Eren's whole body was trembling "Eren" "No. Those days I'm in bed... sick... I feel like I'm going into heat. It's not just the depression or the nightmares. I think they start it... It lasts a few hours, the cramping but... I don't slick anymore. I don't even feel the need to be mounted. It's just the cramping and fever from heat, my scent doesn't even change... it's like like... like before it was ok to have my heat. I know you're not on suppressants at the moment. So I try to stay away. You always look so tired, so I don't want to risk sending you into a rut. And I know I'm ruined... if I'm going to be a useless omega, I might as well be the one with no sleep" Eren sank to his knees, his soft crying filling the nursery "Why didn't you tell me?" "Because I'm already so much work. I can feel it. I know every day I'm disappointing you by not being better... it's all I can do so you won't throw me out" He told Eren every single day he loved him. He'd tell him every single night they climbed into bed. Every time he'd draw his omega into a cuddle on the sofa, and every other time it just slipped out "You..." "I'm too much work. I can't help you through your nightmares. Do you know how many times I've woken to you crying my name or Reiner's? I did this to you. I made you kill someone. And you're still suffering because of it. I want my Levi back. The one who wasn't hurt by me, and isn't scarred because of me... and I want to be... I don't know who I even was anymore. All I have is these thoughts that never stop" With his emotions out of whack and his omega not able to calm, they'd talked about Eren going onto medication, but his omega didn't want to do anything that might affect his breast milk or anything that might jeopardise the bond he was trying to build with their son "Eren, you know I don't blame you" "I blame me... I'm the one to blame. If... I'd just stayed at the compound, you never would have been hurt" "No. You'd be bred, and our son probably sold off to the first buyer, while I sat here and drowned myself with scotch. When are you going to realise that I'm fine?" "But you're not! I wrecked your body. I know your hand still hurts. I've seen your scars... I'm so fucking scared of waking up to find you're dead b-because of that bullet" "Is that why you get up so early? In case I do die?" "I don't want you to die... Levi... I don't want you to die" Gathering Eren up, Levi carried his mate out through the living room and back to their bed, laying Eren down before straddling his hips. Taking Eren's face into his hands, he forced a hard kiss to his brat's lips "I'm not going to die. I would never die and leave you behind. Why couldn't you tell me this? I've been thinking you wanted to break our bond, or you didn't... that you didn't want to be here anymore" "I'm just trying to keep going, but I can't seem to find the path that leads back to you" His omegas eyes were filled with hopelessness. Like he couldn't feel anything through their bond. Not his love or worry "Eren, do you trust me?" "I do, but..." "Do you trust me? That I won't hurt you" "I know you'd never intentionally hurt me" "Then let me show you what our bond means to me" "H-how?" "I want to take you and remark you. I want to show you how it feels to be connected again" "I don't think I can..." "We'll go slow. I know you're scared, but I also know you know it feels when I'm knotted inside you. The safety and security" "Just the thought of sex makes me feel sick..." "Because you're scared. You can't fall pregnant. Not until your first true heat hits in another 3 months. Omegas are designed so they can rest between pregnancies" "Will... Levi, will it really help?" He sure as hell hoped so "I think it will. But don't worry. I'll take it slow and use a condom" "Can... you mark me before you knot? I... I think I need a little help" "I can. You mean the world to me, brat. And if it's get too much, tell me to stop" "I'm so frustrated... right now, I think I'd do anything to fix feeling this" "Forcing yourself to go all the way isn't going to help" "Be gentle... and don't touch my stomach" "Why not?" "I can't stand it" "I think it's sexy" "I'm not ashamed to have been pregnant... I'm ashamed of everything that happened after" "I don't know. We have a beautiful baby boy" "Levi..." "It's ok... trust me" Levi may have been, ever so slightly, fucking horny for his mate for weeks, but he needed to do this right. Stripping his shirt off, he took Eren's left hand, holding it over the bullets scar. His fiancées breath hitching as his fingers shook "It's just a scar. It's proof that I'm still alive... that I survived" With Eren's right hand, he lifted it to his chest, placing it over his heart "See. I'm ok" Keeping his hands over Eren's, Levi moved to claim Eren's mouth. The omega hesitating before slowly relaxing into the kiss, and allowing him to deepen in. Releasing Eren's hands, his omega moved to hold him by the chest, pulling him down against him as Levi moaned into his mouth. It was the most intimate they'd been in months, and with their spilling pheromones, they were both likely to lose their senses soon. Ending the kiss, Levi's lips rested against Eren's for a fraction of a second, both of them nuzzling at each other before Eren kissed him softly. Continuing the kiss, Levi's hands moved to the waist band of his sweats, thumbing them and his underwear down smoothly, his half hard dick twitching as he rose enough to push his pants down, nearly falling off Eren in the process when his right leg got caught. Letting out the smallest giggle, Levi pulled back to stare down at his mate "You're so fucking perfect" Eren bit his lip, looking to his side of the bed "Hey, it's ok. Trust me, remember?" "Ok..." Skipping touching Eren's chest and stomach, Levi slid down the omegas pyjama bottoms and underwear. His mate's hip bones jutted almost alarmingly, while Eren tried to hide himself by pulling his shirt down. Ignoring him, Levi sucked a deep dark hickey on Eren's left hip bone, before doing the same to the right. Kissing a trail of kisses along Eren's stomach just above his public hair, he trailed the kisses down to his fiancée's semi hard erection. Kissing the tip, Eren let out something between a groan and a laughing sigh "Patience, you" Normally his mate would be soaking wet slick, but only the barest traces could be smelt. Maybe there was something actually wrong with Eren's body, though it was more likely Eren's fear of his own body stopping his natural bodily processes. Determined to change that, Levi moved his hand off Eren's left thigh to take tip of his boyfriend's dick in his mouth, while slowly beginning to jerk him off. Beneath him, Eren let out a breathy moan as his hips lifted off the bed. His moans so silky and smooth as Levi started to bob his head. As Eren hadn't slicked more than a teaspoon, Levi grabbed the condoms and lube from the bedside table "Lay on you side for me, it'll be gentler on you" Rolling sideways Eren let Levi push his right leg up. His mate scarred from birthing their child, though it wasn't off putting. It was kind of... sexy... If Eren wasn't so scared of sex again, he would have spent his time opening his mate with his mouth and tongue, rather than his fingers "I'm going to start now, ok?" "Mhmm" Snorting lightly, Levi squeezed a generous amount of lube on his finger, careful as he traced the ring of Eren's opening with his finger tips "Shhh... just breathe" Sliding his first finger in slowly, Eren shuddered with a groan, his mate much slicker inside than out. Working his finger slowly, he waited until Eren's breathing evened back out before inserting a second "Lee?" "I'm here" "Ok..." Finding Eren's sweet spot by accident, his omega gasped, his tone scared as his scent shifted "Levi! Levi..." "Shhh. It's alright. It's alright to feel good" Milking Eren's sweet spot, his mate whimpered, trying to push back against him while a hand disappeared between his legs. Good... this was all for Eren's sake... mostly... cough. Working in a third finger, his mate clenched and fluttered about him, Levi needing to pour more lube onto his fingers or risk hurting his mate. Working Eren fully open, Levi wiped his fingers off, before unrolling the condom and sliding it on. Eren was a mewing mess, his moans muffled by Levi's pillow, climbing up to position himself, he nuzzled and kissed Eren's shoulder "I'm going to mark you now, alright?" "Mmm..." Wiggling his arse back, Levi struggled to keep his alpha down. How could anyone deny the beauty of the sight in front of him. His stubborn and distant mate was finally letting him in. Lifting Eren's right leg, he nudged at Eren's opening as his teeth sank into the omega's nape. Eren let out a strangled cry as pushed back hard, his thigh twitching in Levi's hold as he came across the sheets, forcefully mounting Levi as warmth filled both of them. Fuck. The man swore his eyes rolled back. Eren's blood filling his mouth as his omega rocked against him "Levi..." Keeping his teeth in Eren's nape, Levi couldn't stop himself. Dizzy on the sensations from reconfirming their bond. The sound of wet skin slapping, and squelching lube. Dissolving into grunt and snarls, he chased his orgasm, weeks of abstinence leaving him coming all too soon. With a long and final groan, his knot popped, Eren shuddering again as he came. Lowering his mate's leg, Levi pulled his teeth free, lapping at the fresh bite "Brat, are you ok?" Eren nodded, sniffling as he did "Hold me?" Reaching for his hand, Eren interlaced their fingers "Did you feel it?" "Yes..." Trying to find a blanket to cover them up with, Eren whimpered as he moved "What's wrong?" "Don't move... it hurts" It shouldn't hurt. He prepped Eren open until he was fucking him with four fingers... maybe his mate would let him take a look. Eren's doctor had said he'd healed... maybe there was some kind of nerve damage? "I'm sorry. I was trying to grab a blanket" "Just don't move..." "Levi?! Eren?!" He'd just been told not to move, and despite being knotted dick deep in his mate, Levi went to scramble out the bed. Their bedroom door was suspiciously closed, and Hanji was a fucking snoop. Eren crying out as his knot pulled "Shit... sorry, sorry, shhh. I'm sorry" How the fuck did he forget Hanji was coming?!? Shit. His knot definitely wasn't going to be going down any time soon. Despite the interruption, he was still flooding his mate with his seed "Levi... it hurts" "I know. I'm sorry. I forgot she was coming" "Can't you pull out?" "We both know knotting doesn't work like that..." Turning his face into his pillow, Eren whined softly "You're ok... you're ok... come here" Pulling Eren flush to him, he found a pillow to give them some sliver of privacy "Levi? Eren?! Everything ok?" "Yeah! Give us a minute!" "Viren's crying, I'll check on him!" "Thank you!" Rubbing Eren's stomach, he forgot about the no touching rule as he attempted to soothe Eren. Couldn't Hanji have waited another half an hour?! "Is it still hurting?" "Yes..." "Ok. I've got you... did you feel our bond? That happiness?" "Yeah... it's the happiest I've felt in weeks" "I love you" "I felt it. I love you... but... I didn't slick" "Before you say it, you're not broken. And even if you weren't leaking slick, I could feel it inside of you" "So I did slick?" "A little..." "I didn't feel it" "Give yourself time to heal" "Says the guy with his dick up my arse" "I wanted you to feel my love" "I felt it, then it hurt" "I'll take a look once my knot goes down" "It'll have to wait. We have two kids to look after" "No. Your health comes first" "We have two kids relying on us" "Eren, it's ok... Hanji is out there looking after them. When I'm with you, I'm with you... so let me take care of you" "What if this means something's wrong? The pain and the heats that aren't heats? What if giving birth broke me... and it can't be fixed" "Do you want me to book you a doctor's appointment?" "I don't want to be touched. I'm sick of people touching me" "Including me?" "No... I couldn't to begin with... but it feels better now" "Good. Because I love touching you" "I kind of noticed. I don't think you've come the hard in a while" "Nope. There's like 3 months worth there" "You didn't touch yourself at all?" "No. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable" "You didn't have to do that" "I know. You're my mate, all I want is you to be happy" "I know you have urges, it's ok to take care of them" "I'll remember that" "Good... you've given up enough to be with me" "I haven't given up anything. You're my life and you're the one who's given me so much" "You sound like a card" "Don't think I don't remember that we didn't celebrate Valentine's Day" "We don't have to. I don't want to do anything for my birthday either" "Too bad. I've got something planned already" "You do?" "I do. And I know you're going to love it" "Then I should apologise now, incase I'm not ok or I loose it at you" "I'll be very surprised if you do" "You've met me, right?" "I would hope so? We have a son and all" "This is true" Kissing Eren's shoulder he squeezed him tight "I think my knots starting to deflate, we shouldn't be stuck like this much longer" "Mmm. Ok" Eren was bleeding a little, small tearing along side his scars. He was going to have to make that appointment after all. Cleaning Eren down, he left his mate in their room so he could go deal with Hanji. Hanji poking her tongue out as he came stumbling out their bed room "Oooooh. Someone got laid" "That's none of our business" "I didn't think Eren would be up for sex" "It wasn't just sex. Our bonds been shaky so I was remarking him" "I heard him crying. You were gentle right?" "Right up until you came breaking in and scared him" "I did message ahead. Anna's nappy bag is down near the sofa, she's a little cranky this morning, but cartoons help" The little girl was already laying on the sofa with her eyes glued to the TV "It's fine. Now give me my son" Hanji nodded, passing Viren to him "I think he's hungry, I was going to make a bottle, but I have no idea where you keep your formula" "We haven't been using formula. Anyway, go to work. Is Erwin picking her up later?" "No. He's working tonight, he's going to swing by after work" So Anna was staying the night... she'd have to sleep in Eren's room... great. Eren would want to be there for her, and that would mean another night without Eren... Hanji was lucky Eren wanted Anna here, or she'd be finding herself an actual babysitter, instead of stressing his omega. As he took Viren into his hold, he said a prayer that Anna wouldn't upset Eren, and that Eren wouldn't have a panic attack if she did. * Eren was having a shaky start to his birthday. He was anxious as fuck over what Levi had planned, especially when his alpha wasn't giving him any clues. Levi had had him express the day before, because apparently they were going to be gone for hours. He'd even slept walk the previous night, confused and dazed when Levi pulled him out the bathtub, not remembering how he got there at all. It was terrifying to be doing things he couldn't remember, like how he'd lashed out and broken the bathroom mirror, not knowing what he'd done until he was standing there with a bloodied fist. His omega had calmed a little after Levi had remarked him, and while the sex had been nice, the pain hadn't. His doctor said he wasn't able to find anything wrong with him, his thinking seemed to be that it was all in his head. Levi had asked for an ultrasound, but all that showed was scarring from birth. Proving he was right. He was broken. Dressed in jeans that were a little tight, and possibly Levi's instead of his own, he wore a simple black T-shirt. Levi wouldn't tell him where they were going, only that he'd love it. Admitting he was intending to bring Viren with them, but the pup had cried almost the whole day before, and no matter he tried, the baby boy wouldn't settle. It was stupidly relieving when he wouldn't settle for Levi either, though it hurt to hear how distressed he was. Erwin was babysitting for them while they were out, and Hanji was going to join him after work and collecting Anna from day care... It seemed to Eren that the little girl spent more time with them than anyone else in her life. The one off babysitting during Hanji's long arse shift had turned into them babysitting for every long arse shift where Hanji finished outside of daycare hours. He loved Anna, but she was so fussy. Titan would play with her, tears. The wrong bottle, tears. The wrong toy, tears. It was exhausting, but after Hanji and Moblit had taken him in, it was the least he could do to repay some small measure of that kindness. Sitting in the passenger seat, Eren was staring at the outside world, completely lost. Levi had initially wanted to trade his car in, disgusted that Reiner had driven it. But those feelings had passed and the car had a lot of good memories. Like the first time they had sex, and when Levi had brought him home from Karanes. Even if he couldn't drive, he felt like Levi's car was part of his identity, thus the safety he felt with Levi extended to the car. It was like his other safe place. After what seemed like an hour long drive, Levi pulled up in front of what he assumed was a hotel. The building was massive, its white walls seemed to extend all the way up to the clouds "We're here" "You know I have no idea where "here" is, right?" "If you did, it wouldn't be a surprise. Let me grab the bag from the back" "Wait? You packed a bag? What's going on?" His anxieties decided now would be a nice time to whisper that Levi was getting rid of him. Climbing from the car, he could barely breathe as Levi took his time grabbing his small suitcase out the back, then joining him "Eren, it's ok. This is part of the surprise" "Sorry... I'm just..." "On edge. I know. I wanted to do something flashier, but I didn't want you feeling too overwhelmed" "Flashier?" "Yep. Are you ready?" "I don't know? Am I?" "I think you are" Taking his hand, Levi lead him along the footpath and to the shiny glass doors of the building, there wasn't a single smudge in sight, and stepping through them, they were greeted by a massive open space. Rows of neat doors disappeared upwards, three glass elevators the only access by the seems of it. Hanging from the ceiling, what seemed to be glass stars sparkled above the reception desk. Eren reasoned with himself that there was no way it could be glass. Not when the space between the floor and the roof had to be at least 50 metres tall. He'd never been in a space so big and clean. Lead over to the reception, he was too in awe to hear what Levi was talking to receptionist about. The whole building screamed high class, something he definitely wasn't. Before he knew what was happening, Levi was towing him over to the glass elevators "Your eyes are as wide as dinner plates" "This place is amazing... I've never seen anything like it" "That was the plan. Do you want to watch as we go up?" Clutching his alpha, his knees weakened as the elevator began to move upwards with Levi's selection, everyone shrinking beneath him, and he was sure he left his stomach on the first floor "Holy shit" "It's pretty impressive" "It's amazing" Watching as they passed the stars, he loosened his hold on Levi a little "Are those glass?" "I would say so" "No way. How can people work under them. What if they fell?" "Then they'd be fucked and we'd get the call" Eren scrunched up his nose at the thought. He couldn't do it. The constant fear of having the stars fall. Nope. 10 out of 10 he'd never take a job here. Not that he could get one, even ask stripper. Some alpha's had kink for pregnant dancers, but no one ever talked about what happened after the birth. Arriving on some ungodly high floor, Levi lead him along the neat row of doors until he found the one he was searching for. Inserting the key into the lock, the door opened silently. Eren standing there and watching as Levi stepped in "You coming?" "You got a room?" "Yep" They were in Shinganshima. They had a perfectly good apartment. He was confused as fuck as to why they were here... and honestly, he was missing his pup. He feared spending so much time away, would undo any of the love they had between them. Following Levi into the room, he let out a gasp. It was on a whole other level "Do you like it?" "It's amazing!" The bed was absolutely massive. He'd never seen a bed that big in his life. Everything about the place screamed money, yet all the high end furnishings were practical. Taking his hand, Levi used his foot to close the door behind him, before leading him over to the massive bed. Sitting down, Levi pulled him into his lap "Surprise" "Why did you do all this? This is just... it must have cost a fortune" Laughing softly, Levi took his other hand in his "Last year, we didn't have a chance to celebrate your birthday. We didn't have a chance to celebrate Valentine's Day, and you were the only one prepared for Christmas. It doesn't make up for any of that, but today is your birthday and I want it to be as special as you are" "Then shouldn't we be at a budget motel?" "Do you really think I'd let you stay in a filthy place like that?" "No. Knowing you, you'd bring your own sheets" "Damn right I would. We have a little time before we need to head down" "Head down?" "Yep. This place has a day spa, and I know a certain omega that deserves the shit pampered out of him" "Levi" Letting go of his right hand, Levi tucked Eren's fringe back behind his ear "I might not understand all the beauty products and cream stuff, but I know it's important to you. And I'll be there with you" "You. At a day spa?" "Yes, me at a day spa" Eren really couldn't even imagine Levi getting a manicure or pedicure. He'd probably grimace at every little thing. Mental images from the movies, left giggling slightly. The women always wore robes and had their hair wrapped up in a towel. Just the thought of Levi dressed like that was a scowl on his face, was too much "Are you laughing at me?" "Maybe" Leaning up to kiss him, Eren was still in shock over everything. This place was like a freakin palace! "So, we have a few hours. Do you want to take a bath, or have a shower? Or sleep?" "Did you seriously get a room so we could sleep?" "Yep. I know you're worried about Viren, and I am too. But when was the last time you got more than three hours sleep at a time?" "I can't remember" "Exactly. I think we both deserve some time to recharge" Eren nodded slowly "Don't worry. I would be lying if I didn't say I didn't want to have sex with you, but that wasn't the reason I chose getting a room for the night" "It's not like I never want to have sex with you again. It just hurts" "I know. I'm happy to bottom, and I'm happy to wait" What was he supposed to say to that?! How had he snagged the most perfect alpha in existence? His happiness fell again when he realised that Levi would be seeing him naked... "What's wrong?" "My body... isn't pretty" "We've talked about this. You are more than your body" "But. You're so handsome, I want to look good for you" "You know, I think you're sexy. Even when Viren has vomited in you hair and you haven't slept in days. You're still the most sexiest person I've ever met" "I think we need to get your eyes checked" Levi huffed playfully "My eyesight is perfectly fine" "I don't know I'm ready" "Eren, we are the only two people here. I'm the only one who's going to see" "It's because it's you" "In that case..." Lifting him by his arse, Eren clung to his alpha as Levi strode through the room and to the open bathroom. Sitting him on the counter, he was shirtless before he realised what was happening. Burying his face between his breasts, Levi mouthed the spot as his alpha unclipped his bra, letting it slip forward as his mate firmly groped his breasts. Shit. The only one who'd been touching his breasts was Viren for his feed. Still sensitive, Eren mewed as Levi massaged them, moving to suck lightly on his right nipple into a peak, then doing the same to his left. Feeling his alpha growing hard, his head lolled back as Levi rolled his hips "Levi..." Kissing his way down, his alpha began mouthing at his stomach, his hands continuing to torture him with pleasure, his feelings mixing into something he couldn't describe as his milk spilt. Contenting himself with Eren's stomach, it wasn't until his milk was running down Levi's wrists that his mate moved back to his nipples, drinking deeply from each of them. The throbbing between his legs growing painful, his dick trapped as Levi continued grinding against him "Levi... I'm gonna come..." Nuzzling, Levi massaged his breasts harder, his teeth lightly biting on Eren's nipple... "Levi..." Keeping his teeth around his nipple, Levi nodded "Come for me" Thrusting up, Eren came with a cry. Levi biting down as he grunted. Rocking his hips to meet his alpha's, Eren rode out his orgasm, his underwear soaked as Levi pulled off from his nipple, burying his face against Eren's neck as they both panted "Shit..." It took Eren a moment to realise "Did you just come?" Nodding, Levi kissed his collar bone "You're so fucking hot" Starting to suck a hickey on his collar bone, Eren took Levi's head in his hands pull him back "What are you doing?" "Marking you as mine" "I've your mark, what I need is a bath" Levi nodded, standing up on tiptoe to kiss Eren's forehead "One bath coming up" Still not comfortable about his stomach, Eren played big spoon in the bath as Levi insisted on bathing with him. It was nice to be the one holding his alpha, their legs tangled together as Levi's head rested against his chest, giving him the perfect position to play with Levi's greying hair. He'd never expected a birthday surprised like this, but knowing they were safely locked in, helped ease the pressure in chest. Levi had been right. It'd been so long since they'd been able to do what they liked, or taken the time to recharge. The way he was looking at it now was that Viren wouldn't have such an insufferable and sleep deprived, cranky cow of a mother. He still felt guilty over needing time to heal away from his son, but Levi was fast easing that too. From the bath they changed, then headed down to the day spa. Eren happy to find that it was run by omegas, and that he wouldn't have to let another strange alpha touch him... even if he was jealous as all hell when an omega started massaging Levi during their couple massage. His mate holding his hand the whole time, even when his arm went numb. Unfortunately Levi wasn't forced to wear his hair up, and refused to have a facial done, so that particular daydream was forced to stay locked in his mind. His mate did have a mani and pedi done, scowling the whole way through, as he'd thought he would. By the end of their visit, Eren couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so relaxed or good. His aching hips and shoulders no longer throbbing, while his skin actually felt human. The lingering scents of cucumber and green tea secretly thrilling him, given his beauty regime had gone to shit and no one had warned him that after giving birth, pimple were a common thing. Despite having faced the horrors of a day spa, Levi was smiling as he lead him through the casino area. He'd thought it was just a hotel... and his alpha promised to bring him back down later so they could play the machines. The place stunk of alphas, despite the clear muting of tones provided by scent cancellers. His nose was just too tender from his limited exposure to strangers over the last few months. But, having a firm hold on Levi's arm, and having his alpha walk slightly in front of him, helped to make him feel protected. He didn't doubt for a second that Levi would go any alpha that so much as glanced in direction. Reaching the food court area, they chose a place at random with time proven scientific method of "eeny meeny". Resulting in lunch being some of the most delicious seafood and wine he'd ever had. The alcohol going straight to his head, leaving him a babbling was about how nice everything was. Because it really was. Returning to their room after lunch, both of them were full and sleepy. Stripping down to just their shirts and underwear, the pair of them climbed into the mammoth bed, Eren once again happy to play big spoon to Levi, before they both passed out for the next four hours. Eren waking slightly before Levi did, and found his alpha purring in his sleep. This day may have been for him, but Levi had needed all of this as much as he did. Nuzzling his fiancées nape, he breathed in Levi's scent with a happy sigh. It was hard to believe he could actually feel so happy after having such a shitty start to his morning "Mmm. I can feel that, brat" Rolling in his hold, Levi pulled him up so he was laying chest to chest with the man. Rubbing his back, his alpha yawned at him "Have a good nap?" "Mhmm. Thank you. I didn't know I needed all of this" With his other hand, Levi cupped his right cheek "You're very welcome. What time do you think it is?" "I don't know" "I made dinner reservations at the rooftop restaurant for 6:30" Eren groaned, letting his head fall forward "You've got to stop doing things like that" "I don't know about that. The view is supposed to be amazing" Eren went to reply, only for the sound of Levi's alarm to interrupt "What's that?" "My 5:45 reminder" "When'd it get so late?" "That's what happens when you relax. Time slips away. We should get up and get ready. I've packed for you" "You did?" "Yeah. Unless you want to put my jeans back on" "I knew they were tight. That's what happens when you drag me out of bed" "Hey. I'm not complaining. I'm happy to have you in my pants anytime" "God. You're such a sap. I'm getting up" Climbing off Levi, Eren stretched as he walked over to the discarded suitcase to shut Levi's stupid alarm off "Hey, Eren?" Pausing, he looked over "Mmm?" "Are you an alien? Because your arse is out this world" "No. I'm a baseball star. My arse is out of your league" Levi blinked before cracking up laughing "If you're a baseball star, you know all about reaching third base" "Oh my god... I think that pitch just landed you in the penalty zone" "I don't know. It seemed more like a home run to me" Launching himself off the bed, Levi jogged over and swept him off his feet. Spinning him around and holding him with his crossed arms under Eren's arse "I love you, Eren Yeager" "I love you too, you idiot. Put me down" Levi lowered him, his fiancée then nuzzling into his face "I really love you" "I love you, too. And your constipated face. And your shit pickup lines" "If you want to hear about shit lines... Did you hear how diarrhoea is hereditary? It runs in your jeans" Eren groaned, pushing Levi away "Why the fuck am I engaged to you?" "Because you love me" "I do. I know I haven't been great about saying it... but I do" "I know. I'm still sorry I was an arse about it" "That was weeks ago... things have been better, haven't they?" "Yeah... I was acting foolish and letting my own frustrations get the better of me. I just wish you could see what you mean to me" He really couldn't... but as the feelings of self loathing began to rose, he shoved them down with a strained smile "Let's get dressed for dinner" "Yeah. Sounds good" Levi was secretive as he emptied their suitcase. A large white box was carefully moved to sit on the bed, while his alpha pulled his suit from nowhere. Dressing in his suit pants, formal shirt, green tie and dress shoes, Levi was much the same except his alpha was wearing a silver tie. Apparently the restaurant had a dress code, but wearing a suit was hardly that much of a big deal, given he got to see Levi in his and that always made him swoon. Even having to pad his leaking breasts didn't matter... well it did, but Levi was so good about it, and helped him do it. There was a minor incident when they first arrived at the restaurant. Eren was required to wear a green band around his wrist as he was an omega, which Levi got angry over on his behalf. Unlike the rest of the casino, it seemed like the only place in the whole complex which didn't employ the use of an scent cancellers, sending his heart racing and nerves sky high. When they were finally seated, his hands were shaking too badly to read the menu, and his words seemed to have stopped. Moving his chair closer to Eren's, Levi took his hand, his thumb running the back of it as his alpha's scent turned into a steady stream of calming pheromones until he could finally breathe again. A few of the closer tables eyed them in annoyance, but a glare from Levi had them soon actively avoiding looking in their direction "I'm so sorry. I had no idea this would happen" Resting his cheek against Levi's shoulder, Eren sighed softly "It's alright. You're here to protect me" "Damn straight I am. Though it pisses me off to no fucking end that people still act like this" "Levi. Can we not talk about it? Everything's been so perfect. Let's have a nice dinner?" "Yeah. If you feel like it's becoming too much, let me know" "I will" He wouldn't. There was no way in hell he was going to admit he wanted to run back to their room. That would be giving into his fears and anxieties, something Levi had tried so hard to distract him from all day. Ordering meals they both wanted to try, Eren's world slowly shrunk back to the two of them. Levi clumsily trying to feed him bites, while Eren laughed because the first time his mate had tried, he'd nearly ended up with a fork up the nose. His own skills had been just as bad. The pair of them were definitely not made for fine dining. Finishing with the most amazing cheesecake he'd ever had, just because he was sure it was the only cheesecake he'd ever had didn't make it any less amazing, Eren felt like his weren't even touching the ground as they headed back to their room. It may have also had something to do with the amount of champagne they'd both had... but that was a distant thought on the omegas mind. He'd actually managed to pull off being normal... he couldn't quite believe it. Walking back into their room, Levi had his arms around his waist as Eren made a beeline for the bed. Dropping down, he sighed dramatically, narrowly missing the white box as he did. Grabbing his arm, Levi pulled him up to sit, his alpha kneeling in front of him. For a moment, he thought Levi was going to undo his shoes, instead the alpha pulled a small box from his pocket. Popping it open, Eren's eyes widened at the gold and diamond ring in front of him "Eren Yeager, I know we're already engaged, and I know you're engagement ring is stuck on my finger... but I love you. I want to be with you forever, and build upon the family we have formed. You're it for me. I don't want anyone else. I could never want anyone else as long as I live. Will you accept this shitty old man's proposal?" Tears rushed to fill his eyes, nodding as he stuttered out "Y-yes" Snorting lightly, Levi pulled the ring from the box, taking Eren's shaking left hand and sliding the ring on smoothly. It was roughly the same size as the one he wore around his neck, leaving Eren wondering how the fuck Levi managed to get the sizing perfect "It's beautiful" "You're beautiful" Rising up, Levi lifted him by his legs as Eren slung his arms over Levi's shoulders. Their lips smashing into each other as the kissed deeply. He'd thought Levi was only half serious about proposing, then not serious at all given his insecurities. Moaning into Levi's mouth, it didn't take long before they were fighting each other in a race to get undressed. Lubricated by a generous serve of alcohol, his fears over sex had temporarily vanished. Levi burying his face between his legs and opening his tongue and fingers until he was practically begging to be mounted. Frustrated when his mate wouldn't just give in, he growled, pushing Levi to the bed and climbing into his lap. Claiming his fiancées mouth, he lined himself up, sinking down with a long whine, the pain still there, but dulled by champagne. Riding Levi, he couldn't get enough. His heart swollen with love for his alpha, as Levi fondled his breasts, whispering words of praise until Eren built up his rhythm enough to be blindly fucking himself on Levi's erection. Coming across Levi's belly, his alpha growled, hands abandoning his breasts in favour of grabbing his hips and holding him down. Words of breeding and filling him pleased his omega, his own mind too far gone as Levi drove into him harshly, a second orgasm curling his toes as Levi came hard. Collapsing down, his teeth found Levi's neck, sinking into the flesh without a moments hesitation. Levi returning the favour, his third orgasm dry and draining him of the lasybof strength. Inside him, his mate seemed to grow even larger, as his dick pulsed again, painting his warm heat even whiter. Rolling his hips, he could feel himself rippling, trying to drain every drop of come his mate. Keeping his teeth embedded in his mate, he waited until Levi's hips stopped moving before pulling back and lapping at the wound. His whole body felt alive from their bond. Tears filled his eyes as he hid his face against Levi's neck. Wrapping his arms around him, Levi purred softly "You're my everything Eren. And I'm going to be by your side, no matter how long it takes for you to see how truly special you are. You're my hope" "You're making my proposal seem completely unplanned" "I don't know. I think I love your proposal" "I think I love you" "I know you love me. Never leave my side brat" "I won't. And if I do, bring me home" "Always" "Thank you, Levi" "You're most welcome" When Levi's knot deflated, the crawled up the bed so Eren could lay spooned in Levi's arms. His arse painfully sore, but it was worth it. The white box that had some how survived their sexcapades now sitting in front of him "What's in the box?" "Oh... you don't have to open it" Anyone who was anyone knew that was clearly an invitation to open it. Using his fingertips to draw it closer, he flicked the side up. Inside was a chocolate cake with pink candles "Happy birthday" "You got me a cake?" "I made you a cake. I don't know if it's any good, but I did follow the recipe" "Levi... why didn't you tell me?" "It was a surprise" "Do you think they'll care if we eat cake in bed?" "They can get fucked. What my omega wants, he gets" Eren giggled "Mmm. What if I want cake and you?" "Well, right now, you've got both. So I think you're pretty set" "Yeah... do you mind if we leave early tomorrow?" "You want to leave early?" "I want to see Viren" "You miss him" "Yeah... I know I'm not a great mum... and I'm still scared of hurting him, but I love him and I want to be better for him" "You're an amazing mum. No mum is perfect, but you give him the one thing he really needs" "Milk?" "Love" "Oh. Right" Levi reached over, closing the cake box "How would you feel about me riding you?" "I could support that. Just be careful. I'm sore" "I will..." Somehow Eren doubted he and Levi were going to sit properly for the rest of the week, but that was perfectly alright with him.

[themiddlelayer]

Life at the speed of light

Fucking growing pains! I keep realizing that I’m stronger and more capable of growth than I imagined... but it hurts like hell and I’m struggling with feeling so much pain and so much joy at all once. And I don’t want to do to Java Bear what Nomad did with me. Nomad was amazing. We were amazing together. But his issues with Gypsy were bigger than the joy... bigger than our love.. and ultimately I was left. Not by just one, but by all. I don’t want my grief and pain to overtake all the awesome in Phoenix. I don’t ever want anyone to feel like I’ve felt the last few months. 

MM had plans to go to a meet and greet thing with a poly group with on Friday night. It had been on the calendar and he had told me about it. He also told me that the chick from our game night who I shall dub “Pixie” was going to be at that event. She had also RSVP’d for an event tonight and they had plans to have coffee later this week. 

It wasn’t that he was going out, but it was how he behaved when he was on the way out that set me off. I was stuck working late and just ready to fall over when he knocked on my office door to say he was leaving. We have been in the hello and goodbye kisses place. Kisses, not kissing... but a familiar gesture that we both feel safe with. Friday night he just cracked the door and poked his head in. I could see what he was wearing and smell his cologne. It felt like he was hiding how good he looked and running out the door before I could react. 

It also felt exactly like how ExH acted when he made plans to go out and didn’t want me to come with. He would make plans sometime during the week and be all sketchy with me for days, then on Friday night he would come home from work and go straight to the shower only telling me that he was going out as he was getting dressed. ExH was literally going out and acting single when he did that. Double whammy! 

Oh, and when we talked about it tonight, MM said that he was wearing a shirt that was Gypsy’s favorite and he was feeling weird about it. It was his stuff but, yeah.. salt the wound and bring her up again! Asshat! 

I had more work that I was supposed to finish before leaving for the night but I shifted into the ‘fuck this and fuck him’ place after a crying jag. I saw the gazelle that I’d asked MM to craigslist around Thanksgiving sitting in my office and got angry. I picked it up and walked it across the house to his room where I threw it across his bed then put a sticky note that just said craigslist ? on it.

Java Bear and Olive (formerly Ginger Bear) had both asked me about coming up Friday after work instead of waiting until Saturday morning but I didn’t think I’d have the energy. My anger gave me the second wind I needed to pack and get on the road. 

I got to the house about 5 minutes before Java Bear got home and we surprised Olive walking in together. She just squee’d and said, “I knew it!” because Java Bear had told her that they were going out so she would be dressed when I arrived. 

We were up until after 2am just cuddled up on the couch hanging out and talking before we curled up in bed together. Now, I’ve gotten much smaller recently but Java Bear and Olive are not small people. She is a full-bodied woman in the 225 lb ballpark at 5′6″ and while Java Bear is 6′4″ and down over 100 lbs from his max weight of 450lbs-ish, but he’s a big guy.(Which I’ve always had a thing for!)  The 3 of us in a queen sized bed was... crowded in the best possible way. But after tossing and turning for a bit, Java Bear got up and went to the couch for a bit. 

It was 5am-ish when he came back to bed then the alarm starting going off. They had planned an IKEA trip and wanted to get an early start. Even then, it was almost 9am before we left, partially caffeinated and running on next to no sleep. 

Let me tell you, if you want to get to know a couple go to IKEA with them! I got to see how they communicated, negotiated and worked through a part of something that can cause full-blown explosions in established relationships: new home ownership. Even when one or the other got frustrated and running on barely a nap’s worth of sleep they communicated well and kept things loving and patient between the two of them. 

Java Bear was supposed to pick up Olive’s kiddo after we unloaded the IKEA haul but it turned out that he was sick. This added to the frustration because of the potential cost of a doctor’s visit and/or missed work if Java Bear or Olive were to get sick. Strep throat and scarlet fever had been going around his classroom and Java Bear has not been at his new job long enough to have any sick time accrued. In the end, Olive’s mom kept her kiddo for the night to avoid potentially getting us sick. 

We unloaded all $500+ worth of house stuff then Olive and I did the grocery shopping for dinner. It was a lot of just doing the life stuff together and I had the biggest smile on my face the whole time. 

Icing on that cake- when we got home Java Bear had been moving furniture out of the garage and upstairs. I totally have a thing for sweaty men doing manual labor and he knows it. Before he started dinner he took it to the next level. He put on his kilt and chopped wood for the fireplace! 

Olive ended up helping him in the kitchen while I just vegged out on the couch. They made shrimp and mushrooms over zoodles, roasted beets, and roasted purple cauliflower and kale. It was an amazing meal that we ate together on the couch while watching all of season 1 of “Adam Ruins Everything.” 

At some point during the day/evening together, Java Bear said that he knows things are moving really fast but that he sees a future with the 3 of us doing the life thing together... serious life stuff involving handfasting and child rearing. Olive agreed and he said that if he can have me in his life that he will be closed to other female partners. Now, Java Bear is very much Mr. Poly with some swinging and an early history of being, as he called it, a manwhore. And there he was talking about a polyfidelitous situation. Big stuff! 

They know where I’m at with grieving over MM and Nomad and that I’m trying to keep my head on straight and they have been nothing less than awesome about it all. They both kept checking in about physical affection and talking plans to be sure they weren’t pushing or pressuring me. These are among the reasons that I’ve been so interested in Java Bear from the beginning. 

Olive is equally awesome but the whole ‘sex with a woman’ thing is something I haven’t really done in a long time and I’ve never actually dated another woman. The MFF threesomes I had earlier in life were not always experiences I wanted so that’s been a touchy topic to a point. It’s an odd place because I don’t want Olive to think that she’s pressuring me or that I’m rejecting her in any way but at the same time, it’s going to be a much slower process there and I really need to clearly communicate that to her. 

Olive had to be up for work early in the morning and after she went to bed, Java Bear and I enjoyed some time alone on the couch. We had all the ‘health and safety’ talks even before I came up but I didn’t want our first time together to be with Olive in the house. It didn’t feel right given how smitten she is with me and that I’m not ready to get sexual with her, so we kept most of our clothes on and eventually curled up in bed with Olive. After she left for work we both got some really good sleep. 

Now, I had established even before coming up for the weekend that fluid bonding is a ‘next level’ kind of commitment to me and despite knowing our STI statuses and who’s been with whom, I hadn’t planned on going there. We both had condoms but the more worked up we got this morning the less I wanted to be a good adult. It was more about me making clear that I wasn’t ready for that ‘next level’ with him/them than health and safety so my toddler and grown-up brains came to a compromise. I told Java Bear that I was saying ���yes’ to giving him the full ‘green light’ without a condom but that I couldn’t say ‘yes’ to US until I had a chance to go home and really process it all. 

It was an awesome morning/early afternoon. 

So, on Saturday morning MM had been messaging me about where we were with having other people in the house while the other wasn’t there. Initially I’d asked that he not have anyone in the house whether or not I was there because I was worried that if I gave him the green light that there might be random hook-ups in my house that I’d have to deal with. Plus, the dogs sleep in his room so he keeps his door open... AND the back door is right next to his door. Just not cool but I told him on Saturday that while I was gone it was “whatever.” 

I knew in the pit of my stomach that he wasn’t asking in theory. Tonight when he got home from the BBQ at Cookie’s we talked. He told me that he and Pixie ended up coming back to our house Friday night. I didn’t ask for details but they are really into each other. She has her husband as well as a boyfriend who she’s been with for a year and now she and MM are “seeing each other plus” which is just a half step below boyfriend/girlfriend to them. 

This was all during the playoff game that caused him to be late for their date. There was a lot of crying but it still comes down to the fact that we want each other to be happy and we want to maintain our life together the best we can. We talked money and logistics and made agreements regarding how things will be when we bring a partner to the house. For now, the agreement is that we won’t have any sexual activity while the other is home but that Java Bear sleeping over was fine this weekend. He understands that him bringing Pixie here while I’m here will be hard for me and I asked him to relay to her that it’s not personal but that this is a hard transition. I don’t know when/if he will ask about her coming over but I’m totally dreading it. 

I’m absolutely exhausted right now and my brownie didn’t fix the pain I enjoyed earning with Java Bear this morning. I just messaged him about the agreement that MM and I came to with regards to having other partners in the house and I’m waiting for him to reply. He may come up after work on Friday night but MM isn’t planning on leaving until later Saturday. I know that sex isn’t the primary reason for him to come down but I also know that behaving ourselves will be a challenge. 

Everything is so intense and so complicated in so many ways, but in other ways it’s really falling into place. I need more energy and hope I can start sleeping at night again soon. 

This is the intention card that Java Bear pulled after I left this afternoon and it speaks volumes: 

[thingscometogether]

Dear J --

9/20/20

I know this letter is unsolicited, not a response to anything you’ve written, but if you’ll indulge me I have some thoughts I’ve been wanting to share with someone for a long time.

J, I’m not good at losing people. I’m so terrified that people will leave me that I desperately try to hold on to them, far past the point when other people move on, past when it’s no longer healthy and it’s to my own detriment. It’s why I’m so insecure in my relationships with other people. I’m afraid I’m going to do or say something that will make them not want to be my friend anymore, not love me anymore.

It’s been 17 years and I’m only now understanding the depth of damage my parents’ divorce had on me. I was 16 when it started, and you’re still very much a kid at that age, even though I didn’t understand that then. I was the oldest still in the house and felt it was my responsibility to keep everything together for my younger siblings while everything around us was falling apart. My parents were so destructive -- would have explosive arguments in front of us, would put me in the middle of their own fights. I couldn’t stand being in my mom’s house while she was going through her own anger and grief, so I chose to live with my dad, but then she did and said some deeply hurtful things to me that left scars that still remain. And then my dad, for all the support I thought he was giving me, told me over the phone the day after I moved into my freshman dorm that he had move to another state to take a new job. Just like that. He gave me no indication he was planning to leave, even though I knew it took months to find a new position for what he does. He knew he was going to leave the whole time and never told me. He just left. Checked out. ‘I don’t want to deal with this anymore.’ See ya. Bye.

My life was a story of complete instability for a long time, so many things falling apart at different points despite my best efforts to keep them together and keep moving forward. (Add to it a burgeoning mental illness I didn’t know I had.) I walked without a steady foundation underneath my feet, not even a safety net, and I now understand that the whole toxic maelstrom was a trauma in my life.

Three and a half years ago PTSD burned through my brain like a fireball. I remember the exact moment it opened up. I was walking through a neighborhood in the city where I went to college, a neighborhood through which I’ve walked a thousand times, and all of a sudden I felt this oppressive anxiety. My lungs were constricted and I couldn’t breathe. It felt like a thousand needles were poking at my lungs just underneath my skin. It stayed that way the whole night. When I finally got to bed, I collapsed face-down on the bed and started crying deep, guttural sobs. I remained that way for 20 minutes before I finally choked up enough to get myself a glass of water. But this is the thing that’s so strange to me now: I wasn’t crying about my parents.

How do I explain? The psyche is a complicated thing.

***

The only relationship I’ve ever had was in college with a guy named ___. He was my first boyfriend, and our relationship meant a great deal to me. He was older than me, already out of college and working. It wasn’t that great of a relationship, honestly, although I didn’t know enough to know that at the time. He was patronizing and dominant; he was very good at making me feel very small. But I was with him because he provided the feeling of security I desperately needed in my life. (He was literally the physical embodiment of security, short and stocky, a wrestler; you couldn’t knock him over with a dump truck if you tried.) 

At the beginning of our relationship ___ told me he was looking to move to another city. He had interviewed for a new position, and a few weeks after we started dating he found out he got it. He would be leaving in six months. Truly naive, I didn’t see this as a problem, and I spent the next six months playing the role of supportive girlfriend and cheerleader. I sincerely believed our relationship would last, that we’d have a future together, and all we had to do was wait out my senior year until I could move there to be with him. ___ didn’t feel the same way I did and had no such intentions to stay together, but he never told me the truth about this, about how he felt, about what he didn’t want. Before, during and after our entire relationship, he was never once honest with me about his feelings.

When the day came for him to move, once again I was being left behind by a man whom I loved and depended on. I simply couldn’t lose ‘him’ again, so I held on as tightly as I could. The next eight months depleted me of every spindle of energy, emotion and spirit I had. For what I’m sure was a result of his own emotional mechanisms, he could not end our connection. We were not officially together but we were still in touch, and I desperately wanted things to work out, so I held on. 

Despite all the little things he said and did that hurt me, I convinced myself that if I just held on tightly enough for the both of us, things would work out. But my self and my condition steadily deteriorated to something well beyond mere depression. I wasn’t sleeping or eating. I wasn’t going out to see friends. I was spending my days entirely in bed, my nights mindlessly watching television eating whatever food came from a bag that I didn’t have to cook. I lost enough weight that my usually tight skinny jeans were falling off my hip bones. I couldn’t get out of my apartment enough to attend classes which, by the end of the semester, I had abandoned anyway. My life had, once again, completely fallen apart.

Shortly after the new year ___ told me he had met a new girl who he was now dating and said, quote, “I don’t think we should talk anymore.” It felt like someone had shot me in the chest with a bullet. All I could respond was “You broke my heart.” Three days later I woke up with the worst case of the flu I’ve ever had, the sickest I’ve ever been. I could no longer take care of myself. A week later I was headed home on a Greyhound bus. I had withdrawn from school, left my apartment, left my friends, left a city I loved, completely broken and a shell of myself. My spirit had died.

***

I didn’t remember any of this for a long time. If you’d asked me the details about my experience with ___, I could have told you we dated and that it ended because he moved, but I couldn’t have told you anything else. My brain had packed everything about the experience into a box and tucked it away far in the recesses of my mind in order to survive and keep going. It was too painful to remember them. But then, eight years later, that day in the city when I had the anxiety attack, I realized it was brought on by a memory I had of ___ and I in that part of the city when we dated. The memory itself was benign, but for whatever reason it was enough to release the dam waters of pain and memory, and I drowned in them. (Terribly overwrought metaphor. My apologies.)

For three years I spent every. single. day. with pain in my chest -- sometimes heavy and suffocating, sometimes an anxious tightness and pulling, sometimes an acute squeezing. I would have fierce, violent adrenaline attacks that would erupt into punching and hitting and screaming into pillows or blankets or anything I could find that I knew wouldn’t hurt myself. Then I would collapse in exhausted fits of sobs on the floor or the bed. I would become irritated by the tiniest things: high-pitched noises, too-bright lights, dog barks that would startle me, being unable to open a jelly jar and throwing it across the room. The worst of all of them was an inability to escape reminders of him in every single facet of my life, however benign and mundane: shopping trips to Target, watching the Super Bowl, pumping gas into my car. I put ___ into the context of whatever medium was in front of me: movie plots, books, songs, other people’s stories, anything. I saw a vacuum commercial on TV one night and immediately wondered what kind of vacuum ___ owned. I couldn’t escape it, and I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop any of these things. It was torture, and I was miserable, but no matter how much I tried, I found no relief.

***

In my first therapy session, when I realized that I needed to see someone about my PTSD, my therapist told me that most relationship problems have something to do with our parents. My therapist said both our individual relationships with them and their relationship with each other models for us what a relationship is supposed to look like. My reaction was “What. That has nothing to do with this.” All my PTSD symptoms were about my relationship with ___. But with the help of therapy and through a lot of fucking hard work, I now understand that the original trauma in my life was my parents’ divorce, losing my family (which was my safe space) as I had known it, and losing my dad. It was so foundational in my life that I couldn’t even see it; I was walking through the trees without realizing the entire forest was on fire. Only by reliving the secondary trauma of losing ___ did all of this come into focus. (The psyche is a complicated thing.)

Mercifully, after three years that felt like a lifetime, my symptoms waned to a slight whisper of existence, and now I am left with the task of rebuilding myself. I grieve the lost time and opportunity my traumatic experiences cost me, the things I would have been able to accomplish if I had had a secure and safe foundation upon which to build my life. I miss my family as it used to be -- whole -- which I will never have again even as I have new iterations of one. I miss my dad. His leaving left a hole in my life, one I’ve spent every day since trying to fill but will never be able to because no one can take the place of one’s dad. His departure left me believing I’m not worth keeping, that no man will be ever be there for me when things get tough, and that I’m not worth fighting for.

***

This letter is much longer than I intended it to be. Thank you sincerely for reading it. I don’t expect you to know what to say in response; most people don’t. Knowing that you read it means enough.

I don’t know what this means, J, but do you remember how I said I spent every day for three years feeling constant pain in my chest? When I saw your face, before I could even register a thought, I felt a full, warm sensation in my chest, in the exact spot where I always felt the pain. It happened so quickly, so instantaneously, I could not have manufactured it. It came from somewhere other than my brain.

The spirit makes imprints on the body we’re not always conscious of. So I don’t know what it means, but it was the first time in a long time I felt something other than pain in my chest. And not just not-pain, but something good, something whole and secure. People leave imprints. Maybe that’s why I decided to tell you all this stuff.

[rmjagonshi]

Whole Again - Chapter 9

Whole Again on AO3

Stanford Pines stood in the belly of the Stan O’War, the ship of his dreams, facing the bathroom door, pistol drawn and prepared to shoot the man that would unavoidably come out of it.

After thirty-odd years, he thought that facing Bill would be habitual by now. There was nothing “normal” about this. He hurt. His eyes ached, his head pounded and his body creaked with every shift in weight. He was afraid to sleep. The feeling was so familiar he could have cried if he could spare the time.

He was stupid to think he would ever be free from this damned demon. This damned creature that took away everything he had worked so hard to achieve. His home, his research, his peace of mind, his sanity, his only real friend in life…and now, Bill had taken his brother.

Bill Cipher had sat and bided his time, impersonating Stan Pines long enough to worm his way into the family’s trust. Making Stanford believe that he had gotten his brother back. Making Stanford sit with the agony of dealing with what he’d done to Stanley, giving him hope that it would all be ok, that everything was forgiven and Stan was going to be ok. Making Stanford feel loved for the first time in so many years.

Only to tear it all down and burn it with that infernal blue fire.

There was nothing for it now. Stanford had to contain Bill at all costs. If Stanley could be saved, it would have to wait. It would have to wait.

He was so tired of waiting.    

“What’s taking so long? You forget how?”

He heard a muffled sigh from the other side of the door before the water pump activated. He re-adjusted his grip on the pistol. He really hoped beyond hope that Bill would cooperate. He wasn’t prepared to do this. Not while Bill looked like Stan. He would. He had to at some point. Most likely. But he knew it would break him. Killing Stan, even if Stan was already gone, would finally break the man hell bent on destroying Bill Cipher. He would die alongside whatever was left of his brother. He would never have the strength to make it back home.

He almost wished he never had meet Dipper and Mabel. It would make his inevitable last act less difficult. Because he would. Stanford, if nothing else, knew himself well enough to know he would. He was weak. His emotions, his insufferable nostalgia, made him weak and pathetic. His eyes stung with the need to cry. But he wouldn’t give Bill the satisfaction of seeing him like that.  

What he couldn’t understand was why Bill’s magic was so different. Possession by Bill was always the same; yellow sclera and elongated pupils with no visible iris. The possessed person would manifest themselves in the mindscape or fall unconscious. Or so he thought. Dipper’s account of his own possession was so different from what Ford himself experienced, that it boggled his mind. What was even stranger was that despite all previous allusions to the alternative, Bill’s ability to possess someone was not always obvious.

Stan’s eyes were brown. His sclera white. He was, for all outward appearance, Stanley Pines. The man the boy Stanford remembered from his youth had grown into. His mannerisms, his speech, his movements all spoke to a truth Stanford could not, would not, believe.

Because that was not Stan Pines. For all his extraordinary characteristics, (his uncanny strength being the most prominent) Stan was just an ordinary man. And ordinary men were not able to conjure flames from nothing. Especially not blue flames to seal a deal.

The sudden silence from the water’s end startled Stanford out of his thoughts. He chided himself for being easily distracted. He was exhausted. He needed sleep. But he couldn’t sleep yet. They were still too close to shore. Bill could still turn the boat around and harm innocent people. Stanford didn’t know the extent of Bill’s powers in this form. From what Stanford could remember, Bill had not been able to use magic when he possessed him. Bill had always been regulated to the limitations of the physical body he was in. The face that Bill could use magic now, any magic, meant that he had gained a new level of power since entering Stan’s mind. Stanford refused to think about what that might entail.    

The door clicked, and he braced himself, ready to pull the trigger if he had to. The door the bathroom opened, and there he stood. The monster in his brother’s skin. Bill looked shocked, eyes flicking between the gun and Stanford’s eyes. Didn’t think I would do it, did you? Well, Fuck you!

Stan Bill’s eyes drooped, posture following. He looked so lost. So pitiful. The sigh that escaped his lips echoing off the walls and filled the room with regret, grief, and acceptance. Stan  Bill stared at the floor.

There was a long silence. Bill didn’t move and Stanford made no motion to bind him. What are you going to do, Cipher? What is your game plan? The silence was shredded with the sound of Stan’s BILL’S hushed voice.

“If you’re gonna do it, can I say goodbye to the kids first?” Bill had the gall to pretend to cry.  

Stanford swallowed down the heartwrenching sob that crawled in this throat. Bill had called his bluff even before Stanford himself knew it was a bluff. That was going to be the most difficult part of this; Bill knew him inside and out. Bill knew him even better than he knew himself. Bill also probably knew where they were headed too. The only place Stanford could think of that might help contain Bill. The Bermuda Triangle.

There was evidence that the Bermuda Triangle may have anomalous properties similar to the weirdness magnetism surrounding Gravity Falls. If nothing else, it was a section of ocean that people stayed away from for fear of disappearing. It was the perfect place to keep Bill until he could find a way to break Bill’s hold on his brother. He wasn’t going to think about the possibility that Stan was…no, there was no time for that now. Bill was dangerous.

“Sixer, I know you’re not gonna believe me, but I’m not going to hurt you.” Bill sounded so much like Stan. So much it was almost too easy to answer. Because both Bill and Stan had hurt him, albeit differently.

“You have before.”

Stanford saw Bill flinch. Good. Bill should know he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He wasn’t going to let Stan’s face make him weak. He was going to keep the upper hand if it killed him.

And it just might. Because it was so hard to do this.    

Bill looked defeated. Stanford knew it could be a bluff, was most likely a bluff, but that look on Stan’s face made it hard to remain stoic. The fact that it was Stan’s face made everything hard. The fact that it was Stan’s body made Stanford question just how strong and selfless he really was.

Bill knelt, arms stiffly sliding behind his back; Stan’s shoulders were likely sore from being pulled out of proper alignment for so long. Stanford wanted to ignore it, let Bill be in pain, let him deal with every mortal inconvenience. But Stan’s quiet whimper won him over. Stanford mentally flayed himself when he marched over to the kneeling form, wrenched both arms in front of him and tied them together with the rope. If Bill wanted to escape, it would be easier for him to do so now. Not that it wasn’t easy before. Maybe it was just a show of dominance, who was in charge here. So why did Stanford feel he was the powerless one?  

He refused to look at Bill wearing his brother’s face, knowing that Bill would be smug, knowing that Bill had taken a chunk out of Stanford’s armor.

He brought Bill up and again pushed him towards the engine room. It was the most secure place on their tiny ship. There was nowhere else to keep him. Not where Stanford could rest without worrying about looking over his shoulder expecting an attack. He’d done more than enough of that while dimension hopping. More than enough for multiple lifetimes. He thought he was done with that.

Bill didn’t fight. WHY?! What was the point of keeping up the charade? Stanford knew that it was Bill. He could only conclude that Bill was trying to manipulate him, bring Stanford into a false sense of security before making a move. Bill was patient. It could take years. Stanford had to be vigilant. But he doubted his own strength with every passing moment.

Stanford walked Bill in Stan’s body to the makeshift cell and left him in the room. He didn’t throw him, didn’t kick his legs out from under him to give Stanford time to get to the door incase Bill made a run for it. He’d even holstered his pistol, instead choosing to direct Bill with a hand on Stan’s shoulder and one on his waist. And Bill, Bill just stood there. Just walked to the place Stanford set him and stood there as Stanford walked backwards out of the room before letting the bulkhead fall shut. He spun the wheel lock and felt his legs nearly give out.

Why was this so hard? Why was Bill making this so hard?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Dark, dank, and musty. The portal loomed overhead, standing resolute and imposing over him. It was off. It was off! Bill Cipher had no hold on this world save for him. Given enough time, Stanford was sure he could sever that hold too, in any way possible. He was going to stop this. Stop him.

He had called Stanley for help. Stanley was an unknown. Bill had only the first years of Stanley’s life to pull from, to play with in Stanford’s mind. The Stanley of now was a wild card. An unstable variable that would rock the whole plan Bill had painstakingly set into motion. Because Stanford didn’t know Stanley anymore. He’s not sure even if his memories of Stanley and his family are even accurate or of his making.

Bill had altered things. Bill had messed with his mind. Stanford was sure of that now. As little as he thought of Stanley, he knew, somehow, that Stan was not the person he remembered. Stan was impulsive, and boorish, but he…he wasn’t evil. He didn’t do things maliciously. He had memories of scars inflicted by Stan that he could never find. He couldn’t trust his own memories anymore. And there wasn’t time left to suss out what was real. He had chosen to trust Stanley.      

Stanford was sure of his decision. Stanley was the only one left. The only one he could trust. And it didn’t hurt that he wanted to see him. Stanford, in the back of his mind, knew he would likely only ever break the hold Bill had on him by removing the core of the problem.

Himself.

Even at his worst, even under the abuse by his hometown bullies or even his father, he had never considered killing himself. Cutting off his extra fingers, sure, but never so low as to want to stop existing.

But that was what Bill had driven him to. He didn’t want to die, certainly not, but if nothing proved to be a wedge between Bill and himself, he might not have the luxury to choose. If he couldn’t break Bill’s hold over him, then he wasn’t safe around others. At any moment, Bill could take him over, could hurt someone through him. He wouldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t let Bill hurt anyone. It would be his last act, his last accomplishment. He hoped his brother understood.

He wanted to see his brother at least once. Even if they didn’t make up and Stanford still detested his presence. Even if there was no rekindling of affection, no warm embrace that he so desperately wanted, and the only words they exchanged were filled with bile and venom.

Because that’s what had happened. He was scared, so sure that Bill would take his brother if Stan lingered any longer. So sure that uttering Bill’s name would call the daemon forth and allow him to possess Stan the same way he had been, that he had not fully explained the severity of the situation. Had not told Stan about the danger they both faced. He just threw his journal at Stan and begged him to leave. Demanded Stan leave. He was resigned. The world would be safe. Even if it meant he would never see his brother again.  

But Stan didn’t. He didn’t leave. Instead his eyes filled with hate and grief. Instead Stan threw his own failures at Stanford, like he expected his brother to take responsibility for them. Like Stan hadn’t made those decisions himself. Feeling guilty did nothing for the problem (and a small part of Stanford did feel a twinge of guilt). They fought. Physically fought over the last piece of Stanford’s long years of work. Emotionally fought over the strained remains of their happy youth.

The acrid smell of burning flesh, the blossom of pain in his nose. The feeling of weightlessness as Stan pushed him into the glowing hole that lead to hell. The lead to him! Stan’s eyes glowing sickly yellow and erupting into manic laughter. Burning his journal with a quick eruption of blue flames.

No!

Bill had gotten to him! Stanford was too late. He has miscalculated. His brother was lost.

“Stanley, fight it!” His call fell on deaf ears. Stan was gone.  

“Stanley, please!” He never got to say goodbye.

“Do something!” He never got to tell Stan he was sorry.

“Stanley!” Because he was. No matter how irksome Stan could be, Stanford was sorry they had drifted. He was sorry he had lost his best friend. He was sorry that they had…had…

“Oh we’ll see each other again, Sixer. We’ll meet again!”

Manic laughter and glowing eyes were the only thing left.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*    

Stanford awoke in the darkness of the bedroom on the Stan O’War II. He was cold, sweat dripping down his neck and chest and beading on his forehead.

He had often dreamed about the day his life changed forever. But never had he experienced it quite like that. The mind was a strange thing; it could hide things from the conscious person, then turn around and paint those same hidden thoughts in twirling and contorting metaphors in attempts to make sense of them.

Stanford pressed his hands to his face, willing the rolling guilt to ease. Because he did feel it. Shame over being so angry at Stanley for so long. Remorse at not reaching out to the man sooner. He had become so consumed with being angry, he didn’t know how to function without it. He had let his anger, his exasperation, his incredulity that Stan would stoop so low as to ruin any chance Stanford had of making something of himself, color his feelings. Distort his memories. He had fooled himself into thinking he hated his brother. Fooled himself into thinking that Stan deserved everything he got in exchange for ruining his attempted at a future without him. Stanford had wanted some distance. Some room to grow as an individual. Was that so much to ask!?

Stanford loved his brother. Had never imagined a future without Stan by his side. It petrified him. Made his heart beat out of rhythm and made his blood run cold. He couldn’t imagine a world, a life without Stanley. Why? Why couldn’t he? Why was it that his identity relied on Stan to exist? Was he not his own person? Was he not a disparate unit from the moniker ‘Pines Brothers’? It was hard for them both, but they needed to grow apart. It was necessary. It was healthy.

And so, he made himself hold onto his anger. Hold onto the idea that his brother was a burden, a wasted space, holding him back from accomplishing what he was meant to do. Bill’s twisting of his memories had not helped matters. Stanford had hated the man, and only after realizing that he would likely never see him again, had he realized the truth.

He was prepared to forgive his brother that night; had they only been level headed enough to talk.

He was prepared to let all that anger go, to let all thoughts of his brother as an obligation, as a drain, go. He wanted his best friend back. He had been ready to heal.  

Stanford felt that overwhelming guilt now. Knowing his brother was gone, likely well and truly gone, made everything so much worse.

He didn’t get to say goodbye.

Neither one had had the strength to say it before Stanford had wiped his brother from the world.

He missed Stan so much.

Stanford found himself putting on Stan’s set of pink bunny slippers and walking out the bedroom door before his conscious mind thought to let him in on where his body was going.

God, he was weak.        

His forehead pressed into the cool metal of the cell door. That monster lied on the other side. The monster that had taken his sanity, years off his life and finally his brother, was just a few steps away.

The monster he had once called a friend. The monster he had once thought he loved.

The monster that looked so much like the man he missed so much right now.

He was pathetically weak, and he mentally berated himself over and over. Against all reason, Stanford unlocked the heavy steel door and entered the engine room.

Bill had been curled up on his side on the floor, facing away from the door. He startled awake upon Stanford’s entry, rolling over to blink rapidly at the nocturnal intrusion.

Stanford pressed his back against the bulkhead. They stared each other down for a few moments; unsure of what this was, or where it was supposed to go. 

“Have a bad dream?” Bill sounded like Stan, so comforting, so warm.

Bill sat up, legs spread and bent at the knees.

Stanford felt like he was walking through water. The six steps it took to reach Stan Bill took ages. Hours. But it was still far too soon when Stanford knelt between Stan’s Bill’s his legs. He didn’t know why he was even here. There was no need for this. He was baiting the bear and the bear was ready to tear into him given the chance.

But it didn’t. Instead of being the vicious and wild animal Stanford expected, this bear was tender, soft, affectionate. And he was of no mind to question its motives.

“I’ve been doin’ this for ya for a few nights. Helps ya sleep.”

Stanford warily held still as Bill brought Stan’s hands up to his face. There was enough give in the rope for StanBill him to cup Stanford’s cheeks in Stan’s large, warm hands. He could feel something like a cool wave flit over his face and up to his brow.

His eyes drifted closed, soaking in the warmth, and compassion like a dying man.

Stanford could feel the memory of the nightmare ease . Colors became washed out and dull. Heart stopping cackle muted. Shame faded to mild guilt, dread calmed to slight concern, into knowledge and understanding. He didn’t forget the dream, but he didn’t feel like his heart was twisting itself into knots. He felt, knew, he would be able to slip into a dreamless sleep if he wanted to.

But he didn’t want to.

He wanted to stay here. Stay in this gentle embrace, this light touch so full of affection and care and worry. He wanted to give in, to just…be loved. Because despite everything, despite how much he hated himself for it, a part of him still loved Bill. And that part of him was in control now.  

Once, long ago, he had craved this. Desired it so desperately he felt he would break from the lack of touch. He had wanted to bridge the gap between worlds if only to be able to hold or be held by this being. Knowing Bill was using his brother to do this was in no way diminishing the effects. Stanford felt a faint whisper of a question as to why, but his brain hurriedly sequestered it. (There were dark and forgotten places in Stanford’s mindscape. Places his conscious mind had no knowledge of. Places he had refused to remember or acknowledge for so long, they had all but ceased to be.)

His mind fogged, body relaxed, all nerves numbed save for that gentle point of contact on his face. In his mind, he saw Bill before him, but he could feel other thoughts, images, trying to push that image away, replace it with one of Stan. It was slow, and unobtrusive, but Stanford could feel the anxiety behind it. The slowly creeping taste of fear and a hint of desperation.

Bill wanted to make him think it was Stan doing this. But Stan wouldn’t. Stan wouldn’t do this, had never done this. Hugs, affectionate pats on the shoulder, when they were younger, tickle fights and platonic cuddling, but not this. Not something this…intimate. That’s how Stanford knew this was not his brother.

Bill was trying to manipulate him. He was trying to…

Stanford ripped himself from Bill’s touch upon that realization. Bill was manipulating him. He was trying to alter his thoughts. Alter his feelings. Again.

The dream! How much of the dream did he remember? How much had Bill changed? What had he made Stanford forget? The memory of his nightmare was dull, sun-damaged, and faded. He felt no real emotion when thinking of it. Nothing like the memory of the bone deep shame upon waking from its grasp. He felt numb, stupidly, and alarmingly numb where he had just felt soul rending remorse.

Bill had changed it. Changed him.

He would not let himself be this weak again.

He needed to keep his mind clear, to be his own. If that meant night terrors, then he would cope.

He pulled himself up and walked out into the dark galley, slamming the bulkhead behind him. He couldn’t do that again. No matter how he felt. He had to resist Bill’s pull, somehow.

It was time to continue their course.

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Chapter 1 

[allenmendezsr]

Cure Ibs Naturally - Blue Heron Health News

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    Once upon a time IBS used to cripple me. Fighting it was a constant battle.

And without the risk of being or sounding melodramatic, it nearly ruined my life!

Thankfully, I’m well rid of it now!

IBS…Irritable Bowel Syndrome…Nervous Stomach…Irritable Stomach…Irritable Bowel…Irritable Colon…call it what you like, it’s all the same – awful!

It left me feeling frustrated, exhausted, depressed, and at times, just plain angry, but today I can confidently say that these things are all a thing of the past.

When It All Began

Now that I’m IBS free I’ve managed to get my life on track, but this hasn’t always been the case.

It first hit me at college – during my exams. Terrible timing, but not really that much of a surprise when you think about it.

Thinking back to when IBS really began to rear its ugly head, stress and assignment deadlines were constantly hanging over me.

In retrospect, after everything I’ve learned since becoming IBS free, it was an accumulation of things that contributed to my deteriorating health, stress being just one of them!

But still I had no idea what was going on with me. Back then I guess I just put it all down to those “exam nerves!” Wouldn’t you?

Food slowly started to become my mortal enemy.

Without going into too many unpleasant and graphic details, it either disagreed with me and went straight through me, or bloated me to the point where I sometimes appeared pregnant.

My typical diet was that “usual student diet”. You know, the kind that was ridiculously high in carbs, lots of grease, salt galore…basically, I ate anything sweet and stodgy, as you do in your college years.

But that wasn’t anything new. I’d been eating like that for some time. Partying was also the norm. It wouldn’t really be college if it were any different, right?

But like I said, my diet hadn’t really given me any grief up until that point.

BANG – Just Like That It Came From Nowhere

Even now that I don’t suffer from IBS anymore, I can vividly remember the physical and emotional turmoil my body went through time and time again.

Mild cramps that turned into gut wrenching ones (thank God I finally said good-bye to these IBS symptoms once and for all a while back).

I always thought that I had a high pain threshold, but the first time I really suffered from it properly I knew all about it.

I remember buckling over with the worst cramps I’d ever experienced. I have no words to really describe how it felt.

At times it felt like a knife had been stabbed into my stomach and twisted around ever so slowly.

I ended up going to the campus doctor. He sent me home, told me to drink more fluids and stop my worrying.

“Exam stress!” He said.

Stop worrying?

How?

Easier said than done. I guess he didn’t remember how he felt at medical school when his entire future was riding on a few hours in an exam room.

Luckily, I haven’t had to see a doctor for any IBS-related symptoms for years now, which I’m grateful for, as I felt like I had a medical loyalty card at one point, which would give me X points for every visit.

If loyalty cards for doctors’ visits were actually a thing, I’d have certainly racked up a fair few points.

Next…

Another doctor put it down to bad menstrual cramps and put me on the contraceptive pill to try and control it better.

It didn’t work.

And Then This Happened…

Two days before my exams I found myself in bed writhing in pain and suffering from diarrhea.

Despite not having experienced such excruciating pain in years, it’s all still very vivid.

You just can’t un-forget some things!

Every few minutes I found myself in the bathroom, afraid if I moved I’d have a very embarrassing mishap, which of course was the last thing any college student wanted.

Imagine!

Again, I found myself back in the doctor’s surgery staring at the sterile white walls, trying to blink back tears, and begging him to fix me so I could do my exams.

The same doctor as the last time gave me Imodium and told me to rest up.

Needless to say those exams didn’t go so well.

I listened to the doctors and wrote it all off as performance anxiety.

They were the experts after all! They knew best!

Ironically, it wasn’t a doctor that eventually cured my IBS.

Making Acquaintances With Doctors

After the whole college experience, I did see a number of different doctors with my various symptoms.

The exams were well and truly over, and by some miracle I passed them all and got the results I needed, but I was still experiencing strange gut sensations, lethargy, and uncomfortable pain.

I couldn’t blame those exam nerves anymore.

Something wasn’t right.

They all said the same thing – that I was the only one that could measure the symptoms, because unlike a simple sore throat that could be easily diagnosed by simply looking in the mouth and seeing redness and inflammation, and possibly even some miniscule white spots on your tonsils, my symptoms were broad and as most of the doctors said “immeasurable” from a medical standpoint.

How I Nearly Lost My Firm Tens Of Thousands Of Dollars

Fast-forward a few years when I was working in busy advertising firm.

I loved my job, and I was good at what I did.

I was slowly working my way up, and there were even whispers that I’d one day make partner, which of course is every person’s dream in the world of advertising and marketing.

We worked with some major clients and big-name brands, so the office was always buzzing.

Over the years I learned not to get star struck by some of the famous faces that walked in our doors, and I’d go as far as saying that I was in my dream job.

One day, in a board meeting, as I was listening to our Director pitch a new project idea to one of our longstanding clients (who also happened to be a Hollywood actor and director), I felt a sharp pain run across my stomach.

It took me by surprise. I grabbed onto my stomach. I may have even gasped.

The room went black and I could hear people buzzing around me.

My stomach bloated and I felt like it could explode at any moment.

I remember the Director’s PA giving me some water and asking me if I were OK.

I can’t remember what I mumbled back, but I do recall the looks of horror in the sea of very important faces that were sitting around that table.

I made a quick exit, without explanation, and ran to the bathroom.

It was at that stage my boss said to me I needed to get to a doctor quick. He cared, I knew he did, but he was also thinking about work.

Now that I’m 100 % healthy again, I completely understand where he was coming from. Having fewer people on board and having to hire temps could have potentially cost our company thousands, if not millions, of dollars.

Thankfully, our client was a loyal one and we were still able to get him on board.

I’d Been Lying To Myself

Honestly, I had been burying my head in the sand. Obviously, now that I don’t suffer from any of these awful symptoms anymore, it’s easy for me to say. But I really was petrified of what the doctors were going to tell me.

I replayed the worse case scenarios in my head over and over again.

I sat in front of another doctor yet again. I was pale and slightly yellow, almost jaundice, holding my stomach, and trying not to cry.

He nodded his head knowingly as I listed my symptoms.

Pain, excruciating pain at times.

Cramps, much worse than any monthly female ones.

Bloating and constipation…sometimes so bad, my stomach felt like it had tripled in size.

Diarrhea. This came and went. It was almost as if I alternated between being constipated and having diarrhea at times. Over the years, this had become more frequent, but I just hadn’t ever properly addressed it since my college years.

Fatigue was a massive one. I’d always been a bit of a night owl, but my body struggled to stay up late.

All of these symptoms wrecked havoc on my personal life.

I barely went out in a social capacity, and at times I became a recluse, isolating myself more.

This obviously led to even more things, such as depression, panic attacks and anxiety.

I had many a sleepless nights.

I relayed everything to the doctor, hoping he’d give me an answer.

He did!

But first he asked me to rank my pain.

There were two different types of criteria he worked on:

Rome criteria – this gauged the pain and discomfort I felt in my abdomen, and;

Manning criteria – this gauged the pain and discomfort I experienced when I was either constipated or passing stools.

I gave him my honest answers – they were high numbers!

“IBS!” He said quickly! “It looks like Irritable Bowel Syndrome!”

However, he could not be 100% sure since there is no actual formal diagnosis or tests for IBS.

Do you know that feeling of relief?

No pun intended, trust me!

Relief is what I felt at that very moment, relief that someone was finally able to put a name to what I had, although I’m even more relieved now that I don’t have to worry about any of this at all.

I think I may have even smiled through the pain at that moment!

I wasn’t even sure I knew what it was. I’d definitely heard of people having it before though.

My gym instructor, who was in her late 40s, was as slim and as fit as could be. She often complained about her IBS “flare ups” (as she would call them). There were times when I even had to do a double take – she often appeared “pregnant” out of nowhere.

“So what’s the cure?

“How do I fix this?”

My questions were innocent enough and quite ‘normal’ considering I was in a place where most people would expect to receive some sort of answer.

It Was Like A Slap Around The Face

“There is no cure!” The doctor replied in a very matter of fact way.

“Excuse me?” I shrieked.

He went on and on. I zoned in and out. I tried to force myself to listen and pay attention to what he was saying, because I’m sure something that he was saying must’ve been of value – he was a medical practitioner after all.

But those words kept ringing in my ears, “THERE IS NO CURE!”

All of a sudden I forgot my stomach cramps and nauseating pain. I felt sickness of another kind. I wanted to desperately throw up.

“No, no, no, no!” My voice screamed at me inside! “No!”

“But there are ways you can manage it!”

Honestly, if only I knew what I know now, and I could’ve been free from the shackles of IBS long ago.

I Couldn’t Believe What I Heard Next

Apparently there were ways to manage it.

Change your diet. I nodded solemnly. Although admittedly, my eating habits were far better than my college years when I lived on take-outs, pasta and beer. I considered my diet to be quite healthy.

He didn’t tell me what I should do to it though.

Cut out alcohol. Or at least limit it. I breathed in. Of course a doctor was going to say that.

Take laxatives for the constipation and Imodium for your diarrhea.

That was like an oxymoron.

He was telling me to take two drugs that basically triggered two of my major IBS (I was so glad I had a name for it finally) symptoms.

It didn’t make sense.

But he was the doctor. He knew best. Who was I to disagree with his six-plus years of medical school?

“Relax!”

I really wished doctors would stop telling me that. If it were that easy to sit back and take it easy, we’d be living in a hippie-type world and wearing flowers in our hair.

Needless to say I think I was left with even more questions than answers.

The Truth About IBS

I just don’t think doctors get it. Well how can they if they’ve never experienced the pain, discomfort, tiredness, and not to mention the sheer embarrassment themselves?

The honest truth is that IBS can turn your world upside down, and it can also catch you off guard, so I discovered the hard (and embarrassing) way.

When it strikes, it can mess up and disrupt everything going on in your life.

IBS doesn’t care if you’re in the middle of a multi-million dollar deal. It doesn’t care if you’re on the sideline watching your kids play Little League. It doesn’t care if you’re on a second date with someone. It really doesn’t care at all!

If that’s not bad enough, it also affects you in different ways, even between your episodes.

Once officially “diagnosed” (if you can call it that without any real tests), I found myself feeling anxious all the time.

“When is it going to strike next?”

That was why I found the doctors’ advice to stop stressing out to be a bit ironic.

I felt like it was impossible to enjoy life like it should be enjoyed.

I certainly couldn’t relax.

In fact, I’m almost certain that my constant worrying also negatively impacted my condition even more.

IBS Changed Me

I wish I could say that my initial confirmation from the doctors gave me comfort, but it didn’t.

I couldn’t see how taking both laxatives and Imodium could help me.

Nor could I see how I could relax more and stop stressing when I had no idea when it was going to catch me out again.

I did seek second and third opinions, but they all pretty gave me the same advice.

In the next year or so, the situation got even worse.

Sometimes I’d be off work 3 or 4 days in a row.

I’d lock myself in my room, in total darkness, praying that it would quickly pass.

I lost friends because of my IBS.

It’s not because they weren’t supportive of me; it was because I just couldn’t face going out into the real world. I went where I had to go and then headed immediately home.

I’d cancel on friends and family at the last minute. I’d turn down invites. And not surprisingly, the calls, messages, and invites slowly began to cool off.

My Career Suffered Too

Forget the day when I had to run out of the boardroom holding onto my stomach in agony…that day was just one of many!

And because I’d had no “cure” it meant that I still had IBS.

Chronic fatigue set in. As a result, my productivity suffered too, to the point that I was hauled in front of my boss and asked if I had some dependency issues. I think he was referring to drugs or alcohol.

To be fair, I’d lost weight, looked pale, and had permanent dark rings under my eyes.

I wasn’t a pretty sight.

I explained that I’d been diagnosed with IBS, but this meant nothing to him. He had a business to run.

I got a formal warning.

I got a written warning.

I lost my job.

The Tipping Point

Losing my job was a bit of a reality check.

I guess I could’ve fought it. I possibly could’ve sued them. But what was the point?

I had to figure it out. I needed to take control back. Because who, in their right mind, would ever employ me in such a state?

I wouldn’t!

Desperation sunk in.

No way was I going to pump myself up with a concoction of laxatives, Imodium and anti-depressants.

I joined every IBS forum I could find. I spent hours chatting on Facebook to people that were also suffering from it.

Some people had it even worse off than me. There were some that had lost their homes, and their families.

How could one condition that some stated wasn’t even a proper medical condition cause so many problems and wreck so many lives?

I’m just so thankful that I have a happy ending to my story and my IBS has well and truly gone.

Unfortunately, there are so many other people out there that can’t say the same. Because just like I had once done, they rely solely on the advice of doctors.

The Triggers

To say I became a little obsessed in ridding myself of this condition is an absolute understatement. All you had to do was go into my computer history to see what I mean.

Some friendly people online had been experimenting with treating their triggers.

What did I have to lose?

Surely, focusing on the triggers could at least minimize my flare-ups. Doing this could help me get back on track with everything. I was desperate to try and rebuild my life.

What I had learned about IBS was not one size fits all. Every single person is different, and what might trigger my IBS could be something completely different for someone else.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as the doctors made it out to be.

Dieting

One thing many doctors told me was to change my diet.

They told me to eliminate things, but they didn’t tell me what to remove.

I had no idea about how to eliminate and then re-add.

Was it a matter of going cold turkey with certain food?

I had no clue!

So while the medical experts’ advice sounded good and made sense to me in theory, it was difficult to put into practice without guidance.

So I took it upon myself to try almost every diet I could find online that came up when I tapped in the words “Diets for IBS”.

High-fiber diets, low-fiber diets, low-fat diets, the ketogenic diet, a gluten-free diet, and a low FODMAP diet were just some of the diets I attempted and failed at.

Nothing seemed to work!

Again, if I were armed with the information about how to get rid of IBS back then, things would’ve been completely different.

A Random Online Encounter Changed My Life

I lose count now as to how many online groups and forums I joined, however one thing for sure was that these were the groups that I regularly (and still do) interact with.

The difference now is that I’m often the one giving advice and pointing people towards the thing that can change their lives.

On particularly bad days, I sent public pleas for help and advice. I wanted to know anything and everything that has worked for other IBS sufferers.

Julissa contacted me on a random Saturday morning. She’d seen a post that I’d written. The post that referred to doctors telling me to eliminate things from my diet without giving me any details as to how to do it.

Elimination Was The Right Answer

She explained to me her family’s personal experiences with IBS and how elimination had worked for her niece.

But it all had to be done in a systematic way; otherwise the “elimination process” would be a fruitless exercise.

She definitely had my attention.

How I Became IBS Free In Literally No Time At All

Apparently I didn’t need long to reduce and perhaps get rid of some, or all, of my IBS symptoms.

I’d been fighting these symptoms for years. For the longest of time I didn’t even know I had IBS. I’d even lost the job that I’d absolutely loved because I just couldn’t get on top of things, which included my mental health.

This short period of time for healing myself compared to the countless days of anguish that I’d previously experienced was a drop in the ocean, and something I was 100 % willing to have a go at.

There were rules to be followed to get the answers I was looking for, which I did, and what I found out shocked me.

I learned that there were a few foods that set my IBS off; they were not dairy or wheat products like I’d originally thought or had been told.

I discovered I’ve always been quite an anxious person, long before my IBS problems – the IBS just exasperated everything. I learned that I couldn’t cure it, but I sure as hell could get it under control so I didn’t have to suffer from it on a day-to-day basis like I had been.

I found out that doing some simple meditative exercises and practicing some forms of mindfulness actually ease many of my triggers. They’re so easy (and also helpful in many other aspects of my life) that I still to this day do them despite being in the clear.

I’d pretty much consider myself to be IBS free.

Well, I haven’t experienced any of those awful IBS symptoms that are commonly associated with this crippling condition for well over a year. I’ve learned that there are ways to beat it and minimize the risk of having an episode again, and now that I’ve made those necessary and very easy tweaks in the way I live, my quality of life is so much better.

Empowerment and control are just two words I’d use to describe what this simple program has given me. And obviously, because everything has a knock-on effect, I feel more relaxed, less anxious and much happier.

Here’s to being IBS free now and the rest of my life!

The Truth About IBS

Once you go through Julissa’s step-by-step plan, you’ll quickly see and understand that there are more triggers (and secondary triggers) than what research tells us.

It’s about understanding your body and your environment. Each person is different.

But as well as triggers, there are other factors that contribute to IBS, which in a way I guess could be classified as triggers as well.

Your gut’s flora, its ability to chemically break down food, and intestinal and gut muscle spasms are all pieces of the bigger puzzle.

So What’s It All About?

This thorough and well laid out step-by-step plan addresses the physical and emotional triggers and the possible medical explanations of IBS.

I found the program easy to follow, and because of it I am now a happy and healthy person once more.

A clear cut diet, explicit instructions how to eliminate and re-introduce food, exercises, supplement advice, and additional information about alternative therapies are what make this step-by-step plan more useful and valuable than anything else I’ve read, including advice I received from doctors.

Because let’s face it, all the doctors I’d ever spoken to said that I could never get rid of my IBS, and how wrong they were…

Because I never suffer from it anymore!

Here’s The Thing…

To make it work, you’ve got to follow it. No cutting corners, no nonsense.

But it works.

I’m forever grateful for the advice I received from Julissa that day.

She reached out at the right time, when I needed help the most, when I felt like I was losing control.

I followed the step-by-step program and her advice down to a tee, and even in week one I began to notice differences.

I feel like a whole new person, mentally and physically, and I’m happy to report I am currently IBS free, and I have been for some time, and I credit it all to this amazingly informative plan.

Although I do consider myself cured, I still follow the plan – I consider it to be my bible.

My diet is on point. The exercises have become a regular part of my daily life. I supplement with Vitamin D, turmeric, and magnesium, AND…

I’ve never felt happier and healthier!

Not only am I back working, I’ve also managed to land a position I love.

My friendships are back on track, and I’ve even found happiness in love as well.

OK, so this program isn’t magic in the fact it will find you a new romance or rekindle friendships, but it will point you in the direction you need and give you all the necessary information.

One thing I can vouch for is that it definitely worked for me.

Over To You

If you suffer from IBS, whether it’s a mild form or chronic, I know you’re not 100% happy.

I also know that you’ve been suffering from pain and discomfort.

The thing about this step-by-step plan is it is so incredibly easy to follow. Like super easy!

I didn’t need to buy anything new!

No expensive “diet” foods. No gym memberships or equipment. No expensive experimental drugs. Nothing!

The best thing is I don’t have to spend endless hours in doctors’ surgeries or hospitals waiting for answers anymore.

I’m proud to say that I haven’t stepped into a doctor’s office for almost a year and half, which is quite a feat for somebody that had once frequented every family practice in the locale on a regular basis.

The exercises I did (and still do) at home. Sometimes, when I have a moment, I also do them at work, because they’re that short and that easy. And when I have to travel for work, I often find myself doing them on the plane.

They’re great, because I can incorporate them into my everyday life with ease without any disruption.

I’ve learned to change my lifestyle. I continue to follow all the instructions. Because by doing this, I know that I’ll be able to maintain a life free of IBS and its crippling symptoms.

Click below to get your easy to follow step-by-step program today.

Yes, please send me my step-by-step plan now…

Nothing To Lose

What have you got to lose by trying this method out?

Other than your awful IBS symptoms and unhappiness?

Even in my desperation I was a little skeptical of it all, especially since I’d tried and failed so many other methods, and no doctor I’d visited could help me like I’d hoped they would.

This clear program isn’t made up from nothing. It’s based on scientific factual evidence concerning the triggers of IBS.

It’s an easy-to-follow plan, and because it is so easy, it’s not that difficult to include it in your life and make the necessary tweaks in the way you live.

And if you’re anything like me, once you start noticing the differences, you’ll become determined to make it work for you and continue with the program well after the suggested time is up.

Julissa’s program is different to the rest.

It’s so simple. It’s easy to follow and it also offers some step-by-step instructions.

What makes this plan even more unique is that it looks at IBS holistically. It looks at every aspect of IBS and all its triggers. From there, everything is separated into manageable chunks, which make it easy (and even fun) to follow.

Trust me when I say you won’t live to regret this.

I hope that you too can find all the answers for your IBS you’re looking for just like I did.

Here’s to living IBS free forever!

You’re 90 seconds away from owning a program designed to make things right for you.

Click here and it’s yours….

PS: I really hope that you too can find some relief from this awful condition like I have. But if for some reason you aren’t satisfied with your outcome, Julissa offers a 60-day money back guarantee, no questions asked, however, I’m almost certain you’ll never need to use this guarantee.

Believe me, I’ve never been happier and healthier in all my life!

[anothercity]

Brooke is the best kind of ordinary. Brooke is logical and respectful in a way that an older sibling can only become as a result of lashing out at her younger sister, only to be faced with unconditional, idiotic love. She walks the way most white young women walk, not because it’s a long, necessary part of her day, but because she has something to do—she’s going for coffee, to work, to meet her friends, to buy peanut butter and bananas, to think, and maybe to cry a little bit. There will always be a particular something to be sad about, but this is only allowed to be her primary sadness when all other sadnesses are dealt with and put to rest; once the fight with her boyfriend is over, once she figures out a way to pay for her grad school applications, once she finishes the book by that one author whose inimitable expression of despair is too much to read on the bus. She thinks her only opportunities for satisfying expression are during phone calls to her sister in another city, in another state. Most of the time her biggest complaint comes down to a supposed inability to have the same kind of in-depth, critical, and emotional conversation with whatever young man she’s currently dating as she does with her sister in another city, and it often feels (to both Brooke and her sister in another city) that she’s pushing herself further and further into desperation for meaningful conversation with whoever will listen, despite knowing that there are only one or two people that she wants to listen, and one of those people is dead.

Brooke hasn’t always lived so far away from her sister. Before her sister moved to another city in another state, they lived in the same apartment and had the freedom to waste each other’s time together. Of course, most of their time was spent fighting, because “you can’t just take my shirt, you bitch.”  Most of the time these ridiculous fights were reduced to huffs and glares as one of them left for a friend’s house or the gym, but the rare instances that allowed pettiness to explode into violent, physical, familial rage were undoubtedly unnerving to hear through the walls. At first they wondered if their neighbors thought they were insane, until they overhead (along with tenants in buildings throughout the neighborhood) the alarming nightly shitstorm that was the couple next door. The comparative normalcy was a relief; the recurring question of whether or not to call the police was less reassuring.

Before they lived in the same city and fought most of the time, Brooke was in her fourth year of her undergraduate studies, and her sister was in her first. It was at this point that their distance had been most significant.

On the day that David Bailey died, Brooke’s sister in a another city was the last to find out, as she had been on a train and a plane most of the morning on her way to visit their father, and no one had any way of contacting her, as their father paid the phone bill and this was most likely the last thing on his mind as he was finally afforded a moment to slip away from the pain and suffering that is hospice care. Brooke’s sister in another city wasn’t entirely suspecting that this would be the last trip she would be making back home to see David, but nevertheless that penetrating feeling had been prevalent among all the Bailey children for four months so far. Brooke also lived in a city separate from their father. She was two and half hours away from David, and two hours away from her sister, and her sister three hours away from David. The triangle of time separating them had never really been acknowledged, because Brooke and her sister knew that it was absolutely necessary to continue life as best they knew how, and either one of them moving to either point, reducing their geometry to one sad line, would cost them years in progress of young adulthood. The triangle didn’t need to be acknowledged. They knew David would be disappointed in any selfless efforts to take care of him or each other, as selflessness was not something he taught them—not that it was his goal to keep them selfish, rather he tried to instill in his children a sense of independence and maturity, and this was an unfortunate opportunity to prove their resilience despite their young age. And of course, the tenderness and levity with which he had raised his children (in the few post-divorce years he had with them) were lost. The man who had withered from rotund to pallid in a matter of weeks was not a dad; he had been replaced by some man who sat in the corner at the holiday party, slipping in and out of obvious exhaustion while the host explained across the house that “Oh, that’s David,” to people who had known him for years but could no longer recognize him. Nevertheless, Brooke and her sister struggled to keep levity afloat, if not for his sake then for their own.

It had since become the foremost reason for phone calls between Brooke and her sister.  

Having a sister to walk through the long process of death with you doesn’t make it easier. If anything at all, having a sister does make the process less tiresome, but nonetheless painful. Their experiences and emotions were mirrored in each other and all they could do was look on as the sting of intimate details kept them distant from every person they encountered in their daily life. Every painful remembrance of their father brought on by the scent of Old Spice aftershave picked up on a passing stranger or the jolting sounds of a truck engine starting up just outside their window hurtled them back into the silence of grief. They both knew what it felt like. They both understood exactly how the other kept their grief tucked away in the back of their minds to visit and revisit when necessary. They both sensed the same kind of lingering sadness in each other that most people would not be able to access as anything beyond sadness. They both found their sadness to be everything beyond sadness, too. Sadness was not sad for them all the time. The silence that they indulged in with the oncoming waves of grief, while most often appearing as depressing, was their most treasured opportunity at something more complicated than happiness, possibly a contentedness with the newfound void of existence that they could fill and shape with whatever they wanted—but such silence they maintained as a preservation of that potential. They each took their time alone to build. Grief never retreated and often reached for their hands at the most unexpected moments, during which they could feel their minds shrink away from the boundaries of their skulls under the pressure of loss, but it was here they learned to build. Every time Grief appeared, they willingly reciprocated its clutch and wandered through the memories it had previously tainted of their father; Grief wanted only to show them regret and self-hatred. They showed Grief the origins of those materials. They walked each other back through the thick of the pain and found the beginnings of their relationship to death that their father had been slowly teaching them as they grew.

As the years passed and they spoke to one another more and more regarding the intricacies of their individual relationships with the death, they found something wonderful. The delicate and painful parts of their lives’ worst moment gave way to such a vast appreciation and understanding of both the pointlessness of life and the importance of levity amongst seriousness. For both Brooke and her sister, general human interaction became a test as to how other people were capable of dealing with even the slightest notion of what it meant to be sad, let alone grieving, and whether or not they could understand how not to be sad about grief. Brooke and her sister found after some time that the normal conversation they enjoyed with each other was not at all the type of conversation others would enjoy. It turned out that most people found the topic of their fathers death to be cause for pity and curt apologies. Brooke often explained that her father was her favorite topic of discussion, which did not necessarily mean people wanted to engage in that discussion—likely from disbelief that anyone could so comfortably talk about the most painful part of their life with ease, let alone levity. Brooke’s sister in another city found this struggle to be extremely relatable. Conversation, for her, often drifted to their father naturally. She believed much of her eclectic tastes and thoughts were owed to her father’s parenting, and of course if any of these were discussed, she couldn’t avoid gushing over the origins of her character.

**********

I had a dream the other night, and while I don’t remember all of it, I do still recall the exact feelings from it which makes it a lot easier to remember the images I was able to hold on to. Without any exposition, I entered the dream having understood already that my life had reached it’s lowest point, and nothing I loved was available to me anymore. I had no job and no place to live, and most importantly, no one to cling my life to while I struggled to find a spot for myself. In the dream, I had moved to Germany to live with two friends, who had actually made this move in reality. I was tired in the way someone feels when they’ve realized there is no world on their shoulders, but still hold a sneaking suspicion that letting that realization sink in will only bring the full force of that imagined weight back down on them. I walked into a house and looked around at the faces I saw, unfamiliar to me. I remember thinking in deflated statements: this is where you live now, this is who you live with, this is where you sleep, this is where you will be. Then I was alone, and as if the house opened up like sprawling clouds, I felt warm and saw everything around me glow in reflection of this sudden comfort and overwhelming security. Everything I had needed was now here with me in this new place that I didn’t know, and the emotion flooded my sleeping body. I had spent so much of my recent time feeling as if I would never get the things I wanted from myself. But now, Needing and Getting had fondly nodded at each other for my own benefit. I wanted everything in front of me and it was mine. This is where you’ve always wanted to be, this is who you’ve always loved, this is where you’ve always slept, this is where you will be, this is what you want, this is yours. I was afforded a look at what my subconscious wanted to remind me of: the long-term, romanticized wants that I so frequently forget are attainable. Love and admiration beyond my limited familial circle were not necessarily foreign to me, but largely unrealistic and doubtful in my life as something I was ever deserving of, let alone on the track to receive, but here I was to receive nothing but love and admiration, simply on the basis that this new place was ready to know me and take care of me. As I stepped outside to walk through my new glowing town, I awoke.

**********

I've been thinking about that time you visited me that never actually happened.

It was kind of rainy, but that might not actually be true, maybe just how I'd like to remember it. The cafe was empty, save for one or two couples quietly eating and drinking. I stared out the window and watched a woman stuff her yoga mat into the passenger side of her car and drive away, and as this happened, I imagined turning around from the smoothie I was making, looking out into the cafe to see you walk through the front door towards the register. You hadn't even been to the cafe before, but you walked in as confidently as you always did, with each left step accompanied by that weird dip to one side that you had always told us was from scoliosis. All you said was "Hi, sweetie." You surprised me--I didn't know you were in town, and you wanted to pick me up from work.  I told you I still had another hour of work, and then I put together a bowl of food and a juice for you, and you sat down with a newspaper to wait for me. It was so nice to be able to make food for you, show you parts of my life that you hadn't seen yet, and see how proud you were that I was working and supporting myself. The cafe was so warm and inviting in contrast to the weather outside, I remember that specifically. You took me out to get mint chocolate chip ice cream at the Baskin-Robbins next to the Italian restaurant we ate at once where our waitress had a black eye and made me try polenta for the first time. We had a completely normal evening. You took me home, told me you were driving back home that night, and said you would visit again soon so we could go see that movie with Kate Winslet I was telling you about.

I looked up again and watched the woman with the yoga mat drive away, and finished up the smoothie I was making for someone that wasn't you.

It still happens from time to time. Not as much as it used to, back when I was still living in that studio on Glisan and that haze of despondence shrouded my memory and there were a lot of things I don’t remember clearly enough to visualize, but still hold enough attachment to that thinking about them hurts the same as it did at first. I do remember taking myself to see that movie with Kate Winslet I was telling you about, and I do remember leaving the theater excited to call you and tell you about how much I liked the idea of minimal sets and actors. I also remember listening to your voicemail over and over again on the bus ride home, knowing that you wouldn’t pick up because you probably couldn’t, and knowing that my incessant phone calls were probably more irritating to you than I wanted to admit to myself. I remember the first and only time you came to visit me while I was at school and still living in the dorms. I remember bursting through the doors of my building, tripping onto the sidewalk and looking down the street to see you walking towards me with that weird dip in your step, holding a cardboard box. You had brought me things you thought I needed even though I hadn’t asked for anything: toilet paper, movies, all the letters my best friend had written me and sent to your address because I hadn’t given her my address at school yet, Capri Suns, and tangerines. I was so excited to show you my new life in Portland. It had only been my third week of class and I was too scared to skip anything for you so I had you wait in my dorm room while I spent an hour and a half listening to my professor talk about Ed Weston. I remember coming back from class and finding you napping on my bed. I remember you showing me how you figured out the thermostat in our room so my roommate and I could put away the giant down blankets we had been sleeping under for a month. I remember the two of us going to see a movie together, but for some reason I can’t remember what movie it was we saw, and I remember us eating dinner at the exact same Italian restaurant we always went to after movies because the chain had restaurants near all our favorite theaters in both Portland and Bend. And finally, I remember us walking around aimlessly trying to find the parking garage you left the car in, and I remember you driving me the few blocks back to my building and then telling me you had to drive back home—you wouldn’t be staying—which surprised and scared me all at once because I knew that this was the one good time I would have with you visiting me. I knew you wouldn’t be able to visit me after this. It may have been easier to say goodbye to you that day had I known what that day would end up being in my life, and of course, it ruined every day I had with you after that because every goodbye felt like the potential last goodbye. All optimism dropped off. The plans you had made with me to get back into running at the college track and maybe visit New York had wilted, and it was harder to look at you knowing that you had said those things to me hoping I wouldn’t give up so you wouldn’t give up.

But you had already done that.

I’ve started to feel a new kind of grief lately. Grief is difficult to put into plain words, which is probably why so many people have put their efforts into writing entire books about the subject, all filled with detailed, intimate statements on what it feels like. My favorite part of those statements are the brief occasions that they don’t describe a feeling at all—it’s a completely new existence. I don’t know what this new existence is. This new grief isn’t quite touching me. It’s gently grazing me, and every time it does, I’ve lost something else.

**********

You’re walking through the forest.

Soon you’ll go back to the house, a short 15 minute walk from this point. You will go into your room and start up your computer to see if the internet still isn’t working. You will get up and walk to the bathroom to wash your face. You really ought to wash your face more often, maybe it would help that greasy feeling you’ve had recently. You will wipe your face off with the towel you use after showering, and the faint smell of mildew will remind you that you haven’t done laundry in a couple weeks. You usually keep track of it by that one pair of underwear you’re forced to wear when you really have nothing else, but you’ve showered maybe every other day so your good pairs have lasted longer with multiple days of use. Maybe that greasy feeling is just what comes with the damp weather. You will walk back into the bedroom and stop, then turn around back into the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror. You will look at yourself for a few minutes, but the amount of time spent is hardly something you’d notice. Your face looks different after you wash it. It feels different. You look more calm, and softer, too. But you always know that it’s the kind of different only you would ever notice. You won’t ever seem more attractive or beautiful or handsome to another person just because you washed your face. That’s fine.

You will turn around after the few minutes of looking are over, and as you walk back into the bedroom you will hear that light dinging sound from your computer that lets you know you have a new email. You will walk over to the computer and see an email from your older brother, which is weird to you because he doesn’t ever have a reason to email you, he can just call. The internet is working again, at least that’s apparent. It will be a short email: “Call me, it’s urgent.” You will start to get a little worried, because you know what probably has happened. You will be calm, though, because ultimately you know that it couldn’t have happened yet—you’ve been waiting for it to happen for months now. You will pick up your phone and start the call, but for some reason it isn’t going through. Maybe the phone isn’t working yet either. You will think about maybe going back out for another walk, because maybe there just isn’t any service in the house, maybe it’s better by the road or by the river, or maybe on top of that hill where you think you saw a bear. You will put your boots back on. You’re really glad you got those boots because you were always complaining about the rain ruining everything you owned. You still don’t even own a rain jacket, just a few thick coats that you try not to wear for too long when it starts to pour (ideally you won’t be outside for too long anyway if it’s raining). You will pull on your giant sweatshirt that’s starting to tear at the cuffs because before you wore it and loved it, it was well loved by someone else, and that’s why you won’t ever get rid of it. Years from now, when you’re living with a roommate in the southeast part of town where you swear you’d never live, you will have two cats and you will come home one night to find your roommate throwing the sweatshirt into the trash because his cat peed all over it and he didn’t think it was worth saving, and you will say nothing about what that sweatshirt was or who it belonged to. You will tell him that’s fine, and then sit in your room for a while without crying.

After you put on the sweatshirt and tie up the boots, you will head back outside. First you walk down the gravel path towards the main road. It will be raining a little, but you usually don’t mind this kind of rain. You will see the main road ahead after a few minutes, but you won’t want to stop walking so you turn right and head towards the river past that smaller house that you’ve always been a little scared of because no one ever seems to be home during the day but every light is on at night. Why is it that you’ve never seen the person that stays there? You will decide to make use of the boots and trek through the brush, and while you do this, you remember to snap twigs and step on a few flowers so if you get lost you can find your way back, or at the very least, a rescue team will be able to see which way you went. You always think about this when walking through the forest, and sometimes you think about it when walking through the city. Maybe that’s why you’ve always felt compelled to touch every plant you pass; you’ve always secretly thought you were leaving a mark to help save yourself later. The river will be right ahead of you. You don't think you’ve been to this part of the river before, maybe you walked farther than usual. Maybe it’s a different offshoot of the river. Maybe you are lost. Maybe not. There will be a large section of a fallen tree leaning against the bank, partially sliding into the river. It will be horizontal enough that you will think it a good idea to climb onto and be closer to the rapids. It will be too slippery, though, and once you get onto the trunk you have to sit down on it to keep from falling off into the mud or the river and the butt of your pants will be soaked. You will regain your balance and assess the safest way to dismount, but that will prove to be useless and the legs of your pants will also be soaked. The water is shallow near the bank where the tree slips into the river, and in the past you’ve been careless enough to just step into the water, boots and all, but this time you will be more careful. A large flat island of a rock will sit on the other side of the fallen tree in the water, and you will clamber back up the bank and down to the other side to sit on the rock. It will be cold, but it will be dry. You will sit for a few seconds and then remember that you came out here to find service for your phone, but you forgot to bring your phone with you. It won’t matter. You know what happened. You won’t think about it directly because if you think the exact thought then it might make it come true, and you have been scared of doing just that for months. So you will sit on the rock, looking into the rolling movement of the water below you. You will think about all the places this water has been, and all the people who might have bathed in it or drunk it, or splashed in it with their families, or carried it back to their homes, or died in it. You will think about all the places this water will go after it passes by you, through your hand, and all the people you will surreptitiously touch with this water even after you’ve gone back to the house, back into bed, back to the city, back to your tiny apartment on the second floor, back to school, back to work, back to friends and the small family you have, but never back home.

You are not in the forest. You are in your bed, waking up, and your phone is ringing. It’s your brother calling and you know why. It happened. Your father died.

**********

I had another dream about you.

No.

It was about me. I had a dream about not having any parents. In the back of my mind I’ve always been jealous of other people when they talk about both of their parents—not just because they still have their father, but because they have a mother they call their mother.

In this particular dream, Mom was already dead. She had been dead for years, and you were suddenly on your way out, too. But I don’t remember seeing you in my dream. I don’t remember seeing you and talking with you and telling you I love you over and over again because it might be the last time I say I love you. The dream took place immediately after you had died, even though I had this distinct feeling of having just seen you. You were right there.

Now you’re not.

I was with a boyfriend and I think his family. It feels strange to write about a present relationship in this dream because whatever happens with that relationship will change the entire effect of reading this to myself later. Will I adjust that phrase to reflect the changes in our relationship? I was with my fiancé. I was with my ex-boyfriend. I was with my husband. I was with my friend but at the time we were dating.

You will never meet any of my boyfriends. Your life ended years before I even met him, and before I met anyone else that may be important to me the way you were. You will never know who this person is and was to me, but in this dream, he took care of me after your death. He was close to you in my mind at the time, and he was present for me and your death in my mind. The most disgusting part of his inclusion in this dream, to me, is how little he will probably end up meaning to me. That doesn’t matter.

I was with his family. We walked around outside, I think we were at a park, or a farmer’s market, or a mountain resort, or Disneyland. They took me here because they wanted to surround me with people and distract me. All I thought about while we walked was it happened yesterday, it happened two days ago, he died two days ago. I had been living with one dead parent for so long that it didn’t seem believable that you would go, too. She had died, and that was all. It didn’t cause any great pain or sense of loss in my life, because in this dream I had always lived without the luxury of a mother. Now there was even less than that. I had no father. I had no one. I was surrounded by people who were all family. I could feel the weight of my loss so vividly. It wasn’t that their presentation as a family upset me so much as their complete disregard for each other. They didn’t care why they were there together, they didn’t care that they were together, they didn’t care that I was suffering because of what I didn’t have anymore that they so clearly had in abundance. They had it, and they had so much of it.

I walked away from them. I remember walking up a sloped pathway towards a structure that could have been restrooms or a cafeteria and as I approached this building, someone called out to me and touched my back. It was a man. A particular man. I don’t know how else to establish his significance to me and to this dream other than this: in reality, I didn’t know him at all, but we were seeing each other for a short week or two before he decided he didn’t want to get to know me anymore. It was the first time I’ve ever felt so embarrassed for being so interested in a person. He made me embarrassed for my age, and for the way I talked, and for being so eager, and for treating other people with such disregard before this, but he was wonderful. The more time I spend thinking about him, the more I consider the standard he set for the type of person I aspire to be and be with. He doesn’t get a name here, because eventually I would spend my time thinking not about him, but how little he thought about me. And then I would think about all the ways in which he was wonderful, and slowly each one of those things would peel away in my mind and reveal the self-involved, self-flattered direction behind each interesting question and condescending compliment. He wasn’t better than me. I stopped feeling embarrassed.

He asked me how I was doing and I told him about my dad. In a swift and unreal motion, he lead me to a picnic table where we could sit down and he could properly console me. He sat across from me and told me how sorry he was. He used that tone of voice that people have used with me before when I talk about my dad—it’s the kind of tone that makes you hate a person for trying to comfort you because it isn’t genuine concern and you can sense exactly how much they are trying to sound concerned. But in this instance, I looked on at him blankly and thanked him, because in that moment, regardless of what he was trying at, he was trying and he was listening to me. I felt confident staring back at him and accepting his consolation. We sat and we talked. I don’t know what we talked about, but soon my boyfriend walked up to the table and sat down next to me, and without looking away from the man across from me, I introduced them, and woke up.

**********

Brooke is in another city—a new city. Brooke’s sister is not in this city. Fortunately, moving her life to a new city is not the same as the death of a loved one; it does get easier. Unfortunately, the space between sisters remained exactly the same in this move, and now both sisters are alone and sad and scared, and can more openly establish that “I think I’m depressed,” and “Oh, I think I might be too,” during phone conversations after work or after class. Loneliness is not easy to indulge in this new environment, not in the same way one might indulge their loneliness in the middle of a bustling metropolis. Here, Brooke has no one that she knows and no one that she loves, but she has been given new people. She has her new grad school classmates, and her new roommates, and a Corgi that came with one of her new roommates. She has no more boyfriend, no more best friend, and still no sister, but even in the sunken feeling of loss, she has been given too much “new” to ruminate on that loss the same way she has in the past. When one has no choice but to be alone, an entirely new sadness is piled on top of the others, because in grief, sadness and separation should be properly indulged in—one must give themselves the time to process this new separation. But when one has no choice but to remain in that separation from anything that could help them return from grief, it becomes all too easy to accept that sadness as part of everything. Everything is sadness.

Or maybe that is her sister speaking. Maybe she’s coming out of the sadness, but her sister hasn’t found the exit yet, and she can’t help but step back in to get her out of the Everything.

After her father’s death, and just as she was settling into the studio on Glisan that her sister had already occupied for a few months, Brooke cried almost every day. It didn’t matter the reason she started crying, because once it had overwhelmed her, she could remember that the particular sadness that lingered (from grief, loss, whatever) would be reason enough to keep crying, and from there it consistently became a blubbering mess of no-friends, job-stress, what-to-do-with-my-degree, I-want-to-call-dad, we-are-alone crying.

[floraexplorer]

The Self Care Strategies I Use to Improve my Mental Health 

Breathe. You are going to be OK.

It might not feel like it right now.

Your heart might be beating out of your chest with anxiety.

Tears may be streaming down your face.

There might be an empty blackness enveloping your insides – or perhaps this current sense of being overwhelmed with pain and sadness is the heaviest weight you’ve ever known.

Say this out loud with me. You have been OK before. You will be OK again.

I’ve suffered with bad mental health for at least a decade. I just didn’t know it.

After my mum’s death in 2009 I didn’t feel depressed. However, I did develop phobias which I assumed were related to bereavement: like suddenly becoming terrified of large crowds and tall flights of stairs which I thought I’d fall down.

Somewhere along the line, my grieving process morphed into anxiety. I began to worry obsessively about minor issues for hours; grew more self-conscious in social situations; found it difficult to leave the house without panicking. Yet I still just attributed it all to grief, telling myself that I’d eventually just ‘get better’.

By the time I was working on my memoir in 2015 I realised my mental health had taken a significant hit and decided to find a therapist. For the first time since my mum died, I finally began facing up to my poor mental health.

And then Dad got ill.

My dad died at the end of 2017, and my mental health has been significantly unstable ever since.

But you know what’s different now? I’m aware of my mental health problems. I recognise them.

I used to be scared of labelling myself as ‘mentally ill’ because it conjured up images of dangerous and overwhelming scenarios which I couldn’t reconcile myself as being part of. Yet the simple truth is that being sick mentally is just the same as being sick physically. There’s absolutely no shame in it – despite the stigma which still surrounds discussions of mental health.

It’s such a huge relief to know that I’m not afraid to talk about being mentally unwell. Sharing publicly how my grief has morphed into anxiety and depression, and how I’m coping with all of these things, feels like a big step towards recovery.

One of the most isolating things about poor mental health is feeling like you’re completely alone. But that’s simply not true. 

How I track my mental health

In the last twelve months I’ve noticed a pattern to my emotions. The grief ebbs and flows like water at the shoreline; a few days of feeling alright, a few interim days when the skies seem to darken, a few days of unstoppable crying, and then back to the start again.

One of the biggest lessons I have learned from this pattern is how crucial it is to listen to my body.

My mind is often at odds with my physical self. There’s an overwhelming sadness which tells me repeatedly I’m much too devastated to even consider stepping outside – even though I feel my muscles twitch with the need for activity and movement. Then again, sometimes my body knows exactly what’s happening before my mind does: lethargy indicates the start of a depressive phase, and getting infections like thrush and cold sores immediately reminds me I’m pushing myself too hard and need to step back.

Why is self care important?

The phrase ‘self care’ has often sounded strange to me, but I’ve recently begun to understand that it’s less of an action and more of a process. For me, self-care is about learning to be kind and non-judgemental towards myself, and to put my needs first.

The major problem is that self care can be really difficult when you’re depressed (or when you’re anxious, or grieving, or in the middle of a panic attack).

That’s when many lists of self-care tips can come across as insultingly trite. “Run a bath!” they say, when you’re enveloped in your duvet surrounded by tissues and absolutely cannot contemplate moving. “Go for a run!” – as if the gut-wrenching sadness inside your skin will seriously allow you to lace up your trainers and open that front door.

These suggestions may come from a place of good intentions, but the people saying them aren’t where you are. They don’t realise that their well-meaning words might make you feel even worse. Self care looks different for everyone, so a large part of the self care journey is to determine exactly what makes you feel better, calmer, and more like yourself again.

Here are some self care strategies collected together by a person who’s been there.

I’ve been wrapped in that duvet, crumpled on that floor, fearful of that locked front door which hasn’t been opened in three days.

That said, remember that a list of self care tips isn’t going to cure you. They aren’t magic. But what they’ve provided for me is a little moment of respite: little nudges of gentle calmness which reduce my pounding heart and swirling stomach.

These attempts to care for myself include mantras, methods, actions and behaviours. Some are instinctual and others have been learned by experience, but all of them help me make it through my days of mental difficulty.

I hope they provide some comfort for you too.

Start small.

On my worst days, forcing myself to wake up properly, let alone get out of bed, has felt like too much. I’ve judged myself for it, and then I’ve felt worse.

But there’ll be other days. Whatever you can achieve right now is fantastic – even if it’s nothing more than drinking a glass of water.

Taking the pressure off yourself is a hugely important part of self care. You are good enough. The world may feel impossible today, but it might look different tomorrow.

Let yourself cry.

It’s OK to be upset. It’s OK to let go completely.

When we’re overwhelmed, crying is often automatic – but as we get older, many of us start to feel like crying is a sign of weakness and we should hold it in.

Yet crying is one of the most cathartic acts your body can self-manifest. A traumatised mind needs a physical release; a way for all the noise and movement and pain and confusion to be channelled.

There’s a difference between happy tears and emotionally sad tears, too. The latter hold stress hormones which are released from your body when you cry, making you naturally feel better.

Don’t set a time limit on your tears. They’ll stop falling naturally when your body has exhausted the need to cry.

Don’t be scared to cry in public. I’ve started sobbing on trains, in parks, on the pavement – and most of the time a lovely stranger has asked if I’m alright. Vulnerability sparks kindness.

Equally, a good full session of crying alone can clear out old emotions with no worries about being observed.

I often feel the tears burgeoning behind my eyes like floodgates threatening to burst. Some days it’s a complete surprise and lasts for moments before it’s over; and on other days, those floodgates may open wider.

I let the floodgates do what’s necessary.

Ground yourself.

Touch the places in your current environment which feel familiar. Feel the white painted sides of the doorway; the carpets and floorboards with bare feet; the cold-steel tap before you run the water hot.

Find patterns. Find a rhythm. A beat. A routine. Any methods to slow your pulse.

Write.

Writing is one of the most powerful tools we have to process our thoughts. It’s a form of release – a catharsis.

Write the emotions you’re feeling right now. Write a list of what makes you happy. Write a stream of consciousness with swear words and slang words and spelling mistakes. Write the same meditative phrase two dozen times in increasingly messy handwriting if that feels right to you.

I type my mind out onto a laptop screen most days: just a few sentences, if that’s all I have to say, but sometimes it’s more. Sometimes it’s unintended essays of feeling, letters streaming from my fingers and my eyes skittering over the words without reading them.

I don’t often look back.

It’s the act of transference; getting thoughts out of my head and onto a page instead. I feel cleaner afterwards.

Sleep.

Apparently, we spend one third of our lives in bed – and if you’re suffering with bad mental health, you’re probably spending longer under the duvet than other people.

Of all the self-care tips which potentially cost you money, this is not the one to skimp on.

Soft lighting and comfy duvets; thick blankets and dozens of pillows; hell, even a four-poster if you’re so inclined! Your bedroom should be a place which calms you down and allows you to recharge.

But bad mental health can still get in the way of sleeping well. When I moved back to my dad’s house I began sleeping on a sofa bed for what turned out to be almost ten months. I tossed and turned at night, both anxiety ridden and in an uncomfortable situation: my sleep suffered, which meant my mental health suffered.

When I finally bought a new bed, I went all out: a fancy mattress-in-a-box, the biggest one I could find – and I don’t regret it for a moment.

Go outside.

Walking in nature takes you away from your screens and away your whirring pent-up thoughts to remind you that we’re all irrevocably connected to the outside world.

Take a train to the countryside and walk without direction until your cheeks are flushed and your calves ache. Stand outside your front door or sit exhausted in the garden. Allow the fresh air to wash over you. Absorb the sunshine, the breeze, the dark clouds, the rain.

Sometimes one type of weather is better for your mental state than another. Sometimes your reasons and your preferences change.

I often find it hard to take my own advice. As the weather gets colder I hunker down inside: if I have no errands to run and no plans with friends there’s seemingly no reason to leave the house. I spend three days with the front door locked, and forget that my mental health depends on connecting with the outside world.

So then I open the door.

Touch the earth.

Search out the closest green spaces. Go to parks and hills and forests and cemeteries. Be grateful for trees everywhere, and absorb how calming they are. Think about how long they’ve been quietly living and breathing in the same place.

Visit a garden centre and hold, smell, and touch the plants. Watch roses blooming on bushes. Investigate how spiders move on blades of grass. Get your hands into the soil. Grow your own green things.

I sit in my garden to feel calm.

My parents didn’t spent a lot of time out here, but I know my mum loved the fact that it was hers. Occasionally I’d see her kneeling on the soil, happily wielding a silver trowel and dramatically shouting at the snails.

Now I find a strange peace borne of physical activity; the act of picking up a pair of secateurs and snipping back the bushes which I’m responsible for. I pull at long, tangled strands of ivy; grab at handfuls of dried leaves; rake at the dusty earth and see soil beneath. I begin to plan a different garden. One I can call my own.

Move your body.

There is pent-up energy stored inside you. It grows stagnant if it stays in one place, so we need to move it outwards. This is not the same as exercise. Let your body move itself. Don’t think. Put music on and allow your limbs the freedom to stretch in all the ways they need to.

Intuitive dancing. Yoga. Star jumps. Shaking. Walking. And, yes, running.

You can try to run; realising the aching lungs you’ve always hated are actually a perfect distraction; feeling grim determination as your feet hit the ground. You find yourself smiling breathlessly at other runners, mums with pushchairs, elderly ladies on park benches. You realise how many other people need green open spaces at 5pm on a Monday.

I don’t miss movement until I’m doing it, and then my body silently thanks me (or does so audibly, with a number of clicks in strange places).

I walk five minutes to the park close to my house. I put headphones in my ears and let an app tell me when to run and when to walk. I don’t choose which pathway to take: I let my feet decide. I listen to heavy, pulsing music and allow my body freedom to exert itself without thinking. Even if I didn’t like the idea at first, I always feel better afterwards.

Eat.

There are foods which are good for you, and foods which make you feel good.

The act of eating is self-care in itself, but so is the preparation. Chopping, stirring, mixing ingredients together: it’s cathartic, and it engages your focus on something other than your thoughts.

Buy the basics – onions, garlic, tinned tomatoes, rice, pasta. Write a list of easy-to-make recipes which make you feel cared for. Order takeout for dinner and don’t feel any guilt. Know what you like and order it when you want it.

I operate on a sliding scale of ease, comfort and health. Crisps, biscuits, carbs and ready meals are my biggest vices, so I try to compromise with simple recipes I know I can make easily and also love to eat. Scrambled eggs on Marmite bagels with a side of mushroom and spinach. Pasta and cheese, plus whatever vegetables in my fridge thrown into the sauce.

I see no shame in ordering delivery – sometimes it’s entirely necessary – but a good half-way option is a recipe box delivered to your door. I spent much of last year cooking meals from Gousto, which allowed me to get back into cooking without having to make meal decisions based on what I had in the kitchen which my grief-stricken brain simply found too overwhelming.

I chop onions and garlic, turn on the heat, allow them to sizzle. I remember how my dad loved to cook, and how much I loved his homemade curries, his steak and kidney pies, his chili con carne with a separate ‘non-hot’ batch made especially for me in a green ceramic pot.

Now I cook more than I can eat, and store things in the freezer for when I’m not doing so well.

Drink.

Drink water. Lots of it, with slices of lemon, or chunks of fruit. Feel your body wakening in response.

Drink a beer. Drink a whisky. Drink another beer. Feel that delicious lethargy in your body as the alcohol seeps through your bloodstream.

Or maybe avoid alcohol altogether. Perhaps it’s not a good choice for you.

Drink tea. Herbal ones in pre-made teabags, or a creamy cup of rooibos (which is non caffeinated), or hot water with fresh ginger, a squeeze of lemon, a spoonful of honey.

Avoid caffeine.

I used to drink coffee every morning like it was a ritual, and I swore I couldn’t get into ‘work mode’ without it.

Yet when I begrudgingly tried cutting out coffee, I quickly learned how much it affected my anxiety: without it I feel much less panicky, my heart beats slower, and my mind doesn’t race into overdrive. More surprisingly, I can still work perfectly well without it.

Now I judge what the day holds for me before I even consider the idea of a cup of tea or coffee. And although I miss coffee’s flavour and the daily ritual, I don’t miss the stomach flutters.

Listen to your body.

Learn the way your body feels before you need to unleash emotion. Understand how tears rise through your throat and behind your eyes.

This is otherworldly. You may not remember how life looked before this: or, you may remember with startling clarity.

This is trauma. Recognise it. Your body is trying to find ways to recover. If that’s spending a day in bed, do it. If that’s napping in the day, do it. Post traumatic stress disorder isn’t just something faced by soldiers in combat.

When you feel your heart pumping too violently in your chest, stop whatever’s happening and pay attention. Give your body the chance to tell you what’s wrong.

Shower.

Feeling like I can’t be bothered to shower is one of the first indications I’m getting depressed. It’s the amount of effort involved: I have a complete lack of motivation which leads to self-disgust and thus even less motivation.

To combat this, I have to remind myself of the joys of water.

It’s not about bath bombs and decadent bubbles and atmospheric candles – although all of these things can be lovely. It’s about remembering the relief when hot water touches your skin; the steam which rises around you and sloughs off the dirt; the meditative quality of working soap into a lather then methodically cleaning yourself.

Switch off.

For the six months when I acted as carer for my dad, I was on constant high alert. Any possible noise was immediately interpreted as a doorbell, a phone ring, the bell I gave him to use when his voice got too weak. I began to invent these sounds when they weren’t real. It began to drive me crazy.

After his death I realised that same spike of anxiety still crashed through my body whenever I heard my phone ring or vibrate – so one day I simply switched all my notifications to silent. My phoneline can still ring, but only by playing a pleasant, soothing piece of classical music. My sanity is all the better for it.

But I’m still guilty of watching time move relentless forward.

I watch the phone. I watch the clock. I can easily fritter away an entire day by worrying about the thing I have to do at 7pm; constantly checking to see how many hours I have left before I should start preparing. This is anxiety, pure and simple – and it sucks.

Putting my phone in another room helps. So does working in a space without a clock in it. Another option is to turn that anxiety on its head, and actively give myself a time out.

Be still.

It’s OK to take a self-care day.

Gift yourself twenty four hours of your own space with zero interruptions. Switch off your phone. Close the curtains. If your home is too hectic, find a hotel room or a friend’s house who’ll be away all weekend. Sometimes your usual physical space is too evocative of the struggles you’re facing.

Allow the emotional onslaught to fade into the background. Take time to just ‘be’.

Be mindful. Notice only the present.

My biggest concern with anxiety is that I can quickly fall down a rabbit hole of predicting the future – also known as anticipatory anxiety. If I let my mind loose it’ll fixate on a topic and relentlessly imagine all the worst possible scenarios and outcomes. It’s exhausting and completely pointless, but also pretty hard to stop.

One method I’ve found is saying, “Ok, right now I feel…” as a way of internally grounding myself to only pay attention to what’s happening at that exact moment. Am I tired? Do I feel slightly hungry, or slightly sad? Externally I focus on what I can see, touch, taste, smell and hear around me (commonly known as the Five Senses Technique), and usually my breathing begins to slow.

Identify your triggers.

Self care is an introspective process. By investigating how to help your mental health issues, you’ll begin to notice what helps and what hinders your mental state in daily life.

Currently I don’t do well with crowds, or high energy situations, or when my loved ones are stressed around me. My anxiety rises when I’m not in control or feel overwhelmed, so I’m learning to catch these moments before they properly affect me and either removing myself entirely or employing various techniques to reduce the anxiety. Slow breathing while counting the seconds. Repeating mantras in my head. Physically giving myself space.

Set boundaries and say no.

If you’re naturally a people-pleaser, it’s extremely difficult to put yourself first at the expense of others. We tend to feel absurdly guilty for giving our own needs and desires equal (or greater) importance than the needs of those around us.

Unfortunately, saying ‘yes’ when you don’t mean it can be really destructive for your mental health.

In the past, I’ve handed over the responsibility of many situations to other people. I’ve remained in uncomfortable situations because I don’t want to rock the boat. I’ve assumed people are going to doubt me, and I’ve felt demolished when someone disagrees with my opinion.

Simply put? I find it very difficult to say no.

Setting personal boundaries in my life is new for me, and I still find it quite uncomfortable. But I also know that, for the sake of my sanity, it’s absolutely necessary. I have to accept that saying no might result in someone being upset or annoyed with me, but that it’s OK!

When you’re honest about your feelings and know you’re only engaging with things you actively want to be involved in, there’s a huge sense of relief.

(NB: If you haven’t watched it, Sarah Knight’s TED talk on ‘The Magic of Not Giving a Fuck’ is a must-see.)

Trust your intuition.

Self care is intuitive. Only you can truly know what you need or don’t need. Listen to your gut; to that little voice inside; or even to your body, which often exhibits symptoms of stress that your mind hasn’t processed yet.

That said, don’t worry if your intuition has deserted you. The second-guessing nature of anxiety can often cause self-doubt. But that feeling of intuition will come back: it doesn’t disappear. And some of the following tips are great ways to tap back into that intuitive sense of yourself.

Create (or not).

Get a keyboard. Take photographs. Get a watercolour set and a sketchbook and paint how you’re feeling.

However, if you’re naturally a creative person you might find your creativity is at a low. Writing is my outlet and yet I’ve spent months feeling unable to write. I don’t have inspiration – or, rather, whenever I feel I can write and I begin to attempt it, suddenly the exhaustion and slight nausea sets in.

That’s OK. Self care is all about doing what’s best for you in the current moment. Don’t force yourself to do something which doesn’t come naturally right now.

Be mindless.

Sensory distraction is an absolute blessing.

At really overwhelming moments during Dad’s decline when I felt my heart beating out of my chest, I would grab blindly for my phone and open Candy Crush. This was the most unexpected anxiety solution for me – I’ve never been someone who plays games on their phone – but apparently the sheer banality of swiping brightly coloured candy is exactly the distraction I needed.

In moments of high stress and anxiety, sometimes you need an external source to distract you. In the year following my dad’s death I binge-watched multiple seasons of dozens of shows on Netflix, and I don’t regret it for a moment.

Orange Is the New Black, Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead, Grey’s Anatomy: all compelling dramas which completely involve you in the lives of other characters and takes the focus away from your internal worries.

Read.

When binge-watching Netflix just won’t cut it, I pick up a book.

Reading has always been a solace for me, but when my mental health is bad I choose my books carefully: fiction for distraction; non-fiction to see how others cope; short stories when my attention span is minimal; poetry when I need delicacy and beauty.

There is an increasingly messy pile of books beside my bed. Depending on how I’m feeling I’ll read a chapter of one, a few pages of another, and suddenly sink three hours into a novel I put aside months before. It’s not the best technique, but it makes me feel better.

Some non fiction books which have helped me deal with my mental health and made me feel less alone are:

Matt Haig’s ‘Reasons to Stay Alive’ (although most of his books are equally fortifying for mental health sufferers)

Clover Stroud’s ‘The Wild Other’

Amy Liptrot’s ‘The Outrun’

Helen MacDonald’s ‘H is for Hawk’

In terms of fiction? It totally depends on your taste, but some of the most engrossing books I’ve read recently include:

‘The Power’ by Naomi Alderman

‘Little Fires Everywhere’ by Celeste Ng

‘Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine’ by Gail Honeyman

‘Dark Pines’ by Will Dean

Meditate.

A calm mind changes your behaviour and how you perceive the world around you. Meditation is something I avoided for the longest time, but eventually I downloaded the Headspace app and told myself if I couldn’t carve out ten minutes every day to dedicate to quietening my mind then something was seriously wrong.

It’s been over three months, and every day I sit with Andy Puddicombe’s voice in my ear, gently instructing me to scan through my body and focus on my breath. Sometimes it’s the last thing I want to do; but on other days I feel a languid sensation wash over me as the anxieties subside.

Meditation quiets the mind. It slows the progress of worrying thoughts, allowing you instead to recognise them and let them go.

Be kind to yourself.

It’s very easy to self-criticise and self-chastise, and I do it too much. Practicing self-care means addressing yourself as if you were your own best friend, and being as kind and caring as we are with those we love.

I have to actively say to myself (out loud, if it helps!), “I love you. This is hard. But we’re going to get through it, bit by bit.”

Stop blaming yourself for a mental illness which isn’t your fault. Accept that you’re currently unable to fire on all cylinders, and allow the guilt to be washed away by generosity instead.

Let go of ‘shoulds’.

“I should be doing better. I should be able to meet that person for dinner. I shouldn’t spend all day in bed. I shouldn’t be crying this much…”

An anxious person’s life is often disrupted by second-guessing their actions. I question my decisions on a regular basis – but I’ve recently begun to realise that everything’s much easier if I just let that shit go (NB: listen to this meditation if you’re so inclined. It’s honestly changed my life!)

Don’t look ahead to next month, or next week, or even to the end of today. Just think about what the next few minutes hold for you.

Make achievable lists.

I am a serial list maker, and I often overwhelm myself by writing too much down at once. I feel obligated to list every possible thing that needs doing, when in fact I’m more likely to achieve two or three big tasks in a single day.

On bad mental health days, a task list could be entirely comprised of getting dressed, making breakfast, turning on the washing machine, going to the corner shop for milk. Some of these could be too overwhelming for today. That’s fine. But you know that you’ve achieved plenty on previous days, right? So make it easier for yourself today.

Recognise distorted thoughts.

‘You’ are separate to your anxiety. To your depression. To your OCD. To your mind, essentially.

The more I’ve faced up to having these mental health problems, the more I’ve noticed that I say, “Oh, my mind makes me think this or that.” I didn’t even realise until a friend pointed it out!

Distorted thoughts – the ways our mind convinces us of things that aren’t true – are commonplace with poor mental health. Some conditions, like OCD, are very sneaky creatures: they weasel their way into your thought process and pretend to be so rational and normal that you think they’ve been there all along. They also make it extremely hard to remember how you used to feel without them.

I’ve found that doing CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) is really helpful for recognising that these thoughts don’t belong, and that you absolutely can overpower them. It’s all a matter of isolating them, challenging them and effectively shoving them back in the box they came from.

Name your mental health problems and visualise them.

Giving a capital letter to Depression gave me freedom. I spoke to my reflection in the bathroom mirror and, almost laughing through my tears, told myself, “I mean, you definitely do have Depression.”

How did I know? Because even after losing both my parents I’m still being cruel to myself.

My therapist has helped me see the identifying characteristics of my depression, my anxiety, and my grief. They behave in different ways; they feel different when they manifest in my body and my mind.

It’s helpful. They become a bit less daunting as a result.

Find your mantras.

Words have always been soothing for me. When Dad was dying, I stored away the mantra-like phrases which people said to me and repeated them when I was on the verge of panic:

“Slowly, slowly.”

“Breathe deep.”

“You are strong, fierce, and courageous.”

When you feel a phrase resonating with you, write it down. Take those words and turn them into mantras: phrases you can draw strength from on your darker days.

Find animals.

Having animals around you can boost your self-esteem, reduce feelings of loneliness, and bring you back to the present moment. They also know how to curl up next to you and demonstrate a prime example of unconditional love and support.

On the night my dad died, I was at home alone with Ernie the dog. He laid his head on my knee as I heard the news from the hospice on the phone and he wouldn’t leave my side all night, pressing his body into mine where ever he could.

Find the nearest dog, cat or equally cuddly creature and deposit them firmly on your sofa. Buy them treats. Let them sleep on you. Watch how adorable they are.

I leave the garden door ajar and the neighbourhood cats come sniffing curiously at the steps. I squat down on the ground and let them rub their faces against my hand or my knee. I listen to them purring. I let them wander inside to investigate a brand new environment (and secretly hope they’ll like my home enough to stay).

Talk to people you trust.

Over the last few years, I’ve regaled my friends, various therapists, and unknown voices on other ends of helplines with stories about my mental health and grief. I’m incredibly lucky that they’ve given me their time, their full attention and their unwavering compassion whenever I’ve asked for it.

It’s not the solution for everybody, but I firmly believe that a problem shared is a problem halved. I couldn’t have coped with all of these emotions alone – and you don’t have to either.

If you don’t feel comfortable speaking to your friends and family about your mental health, I’d recommend finding a therapist. The most common options are:

Therapy through the NHS: go to your local GP’s office and talk about your options. The good news is these services are free, but they might involve long waiting times.

Therapy through your local council: I applied through my council’s website and received a call from a support worker, who then referred me to an online CBT course (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy).

Therapy through a charity or hospice: my dad was at a fantastic hospice and they offered both of us sessions with a family worker, both during his decline and after his death. Charities like Cruse and Marie Curie also offer bereavement counselling.

Private therapy: If you’re willing to pay for therapy, there are probably hundreds of therapists in your local area. I used counselling-directory.org.uk and read through profiles until I found a few I liked, then sent them an email explaining my backstory and went on from there!

If you’re not confident about meeting face-to-face, there are a number of helplines (all UK based) which you can phone up for a chat. They include:

Mind: 0300 123 3393 (or text 86463)

Cruse Bereavement Care: 0844 477 9400

Marie Curie: 0800 090 2309

Anxiety UK: 03444 775 774

Samaritans: 116 123 (helpline is open 24 hours)

Ask for love, as well as help.

Friends, family, random acquaintances and even strangers want to know how they can help you, but sometimes it’s not logical actions you need.

It can be hugely supportive to know someone is thinking about you without you having to remind them – because bad mental health can often feed off the idea that “I’m alone because nobody truly cares about me”.

After a particularly bad week of self-imposed isolation and a lot of crying, I set up a WhatsApp group with some of my closest friends. I named the group, ‘Flora is going to be OK’, and asked them to check in with me when they could. Immediately I had streams of replies – one friend said she’d said me hilarious cat memes each and every day – and now whenever I see a notification from that chat it makes me grin.

You can ask your friends for daily check-ins, or weekly ones – whatever you feel you need. Just make sure the people who love you understand how important it is for them to show it. 

Look for happy moments.

Did you know that bright green wild parakeets live in the treetops in London? I’ve seen them flying above parks all over the city. Their origins are an urban legend, but every time I hear them squawking their way across the skies I grin so wide my face aches.

Record the little weird unexpected moments you see each day: standing beside a lake in central London under a hangnail moon with sleeping swans; pausing on a dry patch of pavement in December drizzle to type out my mum’s voice saying a phrase I thought I’d forgotten. These are the moments worth keeping hold of. They make us brighter and make us happy.

I have a note on my phone where I write positive interactions and beautiful observations. Sometimes I record my emotional reactions too.

What does that positivity feel like? That spacious lightness inside your chest? That bolstering feeling? How does it differ to that leaden, solid weight of grief which pulls on your insides like a pendulum and prevents any real movement, any real feeling?

Be angry.

We think we’re supposed to bottle up our emotions, but you are absolutely allowed to be angry. Dealing with mental health issues can be an emotional onslaught: fear, sadness, distrust and anger can (and probably will) all rear their heads.

So feel your fury. Allow it to sit there. Let those burning, heated sparks fly. Scream into pillows. It all helps.

Clean, clear and re-organise your space.

After three days of ignoring the dishes in the sink, I suddenly have a fervour for cleaning. The entire kitchen is blitzed, with every surface left glistening; the laundry is loaded; the bed sheets are changed.

Creating a clear environment by clearing away what’s stagnant is cathartic. Moreover, engaging in repetitive activity is strangely calming.

By the time I’ve organised, my mind is refreshed. I have clarity again.

Set up routines and rituals.

I’ve spent much of the last decade travelling all over the world. For about six years it was long-term and constant; then it was a few trips each month while renting a flat in London. The idea of establishing routine in my life was all but impossible: I was never in one place for long enough.

And now?

I’ve discovered I feel most calm when my day has an obvious structure. I meditate each morning. I make toast and tea in my kitchen. I reply to emails, settle down to writing, eat lunch and see friends. I recently started a part-time job at a pizza restaurant to get me out of the house, and I make sure I have at least two big social events each week.

Routine was never something I craved – until my life became so erratic, unexpected and traumatic that I developed mental health problems. 

Part of the joys in developing a structure to each day is that I get to include a self-care routine, too.

Remind yourself you’re loved.

This is the passive version of ‘talking to people’ – for those moments when you’re in need of your own space.

Take screenshots of supportive texts or emails from friends and add them to a folder on your laptop or phone. Collect photos of people and places which make you happy. Write a list of the memories and moments when you’ve felt the happiest. Remember the most confident times you’ve ever had: when you first climbed a tree or rode a bike or went to school by yourself. You are brave. You are strong. You are courageous.

Try your hardest to negate your feelings of unworthiness with the true knowledge that your support system loves you, and that you are enough.

Know that this is temporary.

Tell yourself there is a way out of this. Because there always is. Overwhelmed, bruised, and damaged: however bad you feel right now, know that it’s surmountable.

You’ll be ready when you’re ready.

Hard, bright and glittering. Broken and bruised, but still here. You are gearing your energies, pooling your internal resources, waiting patiently for the moment when your mind and body come back to life and you step, willingly and fully, into the world again.

You’re going to make it through this. I promise you.

But for now, just keep breathing.

The post The Self Care Strategies I Use to Improve my Mental Health  appeared first on Flora The Explorer.

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[etouffante-x]

August 2nd, 2018; false alarm

My one and only resolution for 2019 was to be (to a reasonable extent) more vulnerable and open, be it letting people in, letting people understand me, or letting people love me. It already sounds so fucking difficult lolllll, but I’m going to do it because I know it’s a place I need to grow - I can’t keep my walls up forever.

Ahhhhhhhhhh, I still get emotional reading my feelings from this time, but here it is, only slightly edited from the initial draft:

__________________________________________________________

August 2nd, 2018 probably around 3AM

Happiness is rarely ever a catalyst for writing - it is often the difficult situations and the accompanying trying emotions that motivate us to write: being in love, anger, frustration, grief,

sadness.

Today, I write about my mom.

I have these thoughts. Like how this might be the first (of many; all) Thanksgivings we will have without her, Christmases, birthdays, accomplishments, milestones. How my dad will have to learn how to cook and learn how to pay the bills. How she won’t see me get my PhD. How she won’t be able to see or hear me play piano anymore. How I should’ve taken more pictures of her smiling face or more pictures with her.

I am at my emotional wits’ end.

I feel like I will break at any moment.

There are times when I am calm with chaotic undercurrents threatening to rupture my controlled facade, and then there are times when I just cry and cry and ugly cry. Nothing helps - talking it out or trying to distract myself - it is there, staring me in the face, her mortality.

Mom’s been in the hospital since the beginning of July, right when I began my week-long vacation in Portugal. When she said she was in the hospital, I had only begun talking to her again after the massive fight she had with my sister in DC (because I took my sister’s side). At first it was pneumonia. She was old and getting pneumonia is common in people her age, I told myself. I didn’t think much of it, even when she was transferred to the ICU. Whether it was hopeful naivete or plain stupid naivete, I couldn’t tell you. My thought was that they simply moved her there because they couldn’t figure out what bacteria was causing the pneumonia (one of my fatal flaws is I could [over]rationalize anything). But then she was there for a week. Kelly told me later when we were talking about it that she was really worried because her grandma (who passed away from lung cancer recently) started out the same way.

When I got back from my vacation, a very weird set of coincidences and twists of fate happened: the weekend immediately following my return, I was supposed to fly to New York City for Panorama (a music festival). I arrived at the airport for my flight, which was already delayed from the original time. As I sat there watching the screen, the flight got delayed another 30 minutes; 10 minutes later, the delay became 1.5 hours. Another 10 minutes later, the flight was cancelled altogether. I was really tired. I grappled with the decision to either just go back home and stay that weekend or try to switch my flight to Boston to see my mom, with a slight chance that flights to Boston would also be cancelled. But then I receive an email that Panorama was cancelled for the day that I was originally going to go and that refunds would be issued within 3-5 business days. I stood in that long line waiting to talk to an agent about changing my flight.

“Hello, since my flight is cancelled, could I just get a refund for my flights to and from NYC”? “Sure, give me a minute.”

.....

“Actually, what would the fee be to switch the inbound and outbound flights to go to and from Boston instead?” “We could change your flight at no extra cost, the earliest flight to Boston would be tomorrow around 7 AM.”

I went back to my apartment, scheduled a Lyft for 4:30 AM, and went to bed.

To summarize my short weekend trip home to see my mom: Day 1 - my dad picked me up from the airport and we got breakfast together at the hospital cafe and talked very quietly and calmly about anything but my mom’s condition. We picked up some soup for her on the way up to her room. We were all exhausted. - the nurses were so kind. - I wanted to strangle the thoracic surgeon who came to take out my mom’s chest tube. She had gotten a lung biopsy done so that they could run labs and tests - dear LAWD I was NOT ready for this at all. The first time he tried to yank it out, he forgot to remove the stitches that held it in place. It took everything in me to not lash out and then lunge across the bed to slap him upside the head (imagine trying to quickly yank out something that is physically attached to your skin). Then after he got the stitches out, it was go-time. I nearly fainted I shit you not. I held my mom’s hand as the surgeon yanked out a nearly 2 foot long tube from my mom’s back (that was in her chest!!!) as her face just scrunched up in pain. I knew from my neuroscience background that you can make pain feel less... painful, by “distracting” the body with pain in another part, so since I was holding her hand tightly, I started squeezing hard and slapping it gently and rubbing it and talking to her so she wouldn’t focus on the pain. I really don’t know if it worked. I probably needed to slap harder. Lol. - I didn’t want to leave, but she was finally able to rest a bit more comfortably with the chest tube removed, and my dad and I went home. My heart broke a little knowing she’d feel lonely and scared by herself in that sterile hospital room.

Day 2: - my dad and I picked up some Vietnamese food for my mom since she was craving some actual food and was feeling up to eat. The way she eagerly ate made me so happy. - she was being moved out of the ICU, so we met her at her new room, which was more spacious and had more sunlight. A little comfy-er. A little less hospital-y. She slept most of the time I was there, but my dad and I bonded by my forcing him to take the Myers-Briggs test. I was thoroughly surprised (he’s an ESFJ). Lmao. - my dad took me to the airport and I flew back.

I left feeling hopeful. A few days after I got back home, though, we got a diagnosis: pulmonary fibrosis. The resident who called me with this information was wholly unhelpful. I asked what the treatment plan would be. I asked what the chances are of a wrong diagnosis. What the fuck is pulmonary fibrosis? Shouldn’t doctors sound more sure of themselves and have more information to divest if they’re going to call with a preliminary diagnosis? But I did my research: at the most, 2.5-3.5 years to live, with the average being about 6 months to a year.

I cried so much that night. I didn’t have the heart or the courage to tell my sister. There were so many things I still wanted to ask my mom and know about her: What was her childhood like in Vietnam? What’s her favorite poem? What foods does she hate? Who’s her favorite sibling?

I think of all these things in hindsight - I never wanted to get close/attached to people because - in the end, someone always has to leave. And I cannot bear the pain or sadness. Alas, I’ve become that kid who feels guilty because they didn’t appreciate their mom enough before it was too late - who didn’t text enough, call enough, visit home enough; wasn’t patient enough, gentle enough, loving enough. I have failed to do so many things I should have and I am lacking in being all that I should have been for them.

Today, when I called her, was the second time in my life that I heard her cry. She said she feels bad leaving me and my sister behind, with nothing; and that she worries about us - I told her not to worry. She said she feels sad that she might not get to see me graduate, her legacy, and that if it’s her time to go, then she will go. I thought of walking down that stage to get my PhD in my beret, and the caption that was supposed to be “I did it for the beret” being changed to “this one’s for you, Mom.” I thought of how she sacrificed her whole life for our family, with nothing - nothing - given back to her in return. She never took a vacation anywhere, never saw the world, but gave the world to us.

Perhaps this is her rest - a lifetime of sacrifice and oftentimes one-sided, unconditional love, rewarded with a breath at last (oh the fucking irony).

The doctors were/are infuriatingly incompetent and ill-informed. And I cannot stop crying. I think about how I will feel her loss forever, feel that emptiness in everything that I see and do. But that is what love is. To me, it is the yearning to have that person longer, selfishly. It is the sadness of their (impending) departure. It is the wish that they could have been afforded all the opportunities you had. But in the end, it is selfish to want to prolong and extend her pain and suffering for my own self-preservation. I can try to prepare, but I doubt anything could prepare me for the inevitable heartbreak I will have to endure.

I just hope, at some point in time, I made her happy; I hope I made her proud.

I hope that if and when she leaves, she leaves for some place more beautiful than here.

[kenr6951]

Yup

TBI Ministries Logo Comfort: Caringly responding to a hurting person through words, actions, emotional responses, and physical touch; hurting with and for others in the midst of their grief or pain. (Romans 12: 15 NASB; Matthew 5:4: 2 Corinthians 1:3-4) In Sickness and in Health.... You may have spoken these words to your Love on your wedding day. As you took your vow you might have thought about the "sickness" part being a cold or the flu but probably not a chronic sickness. So what do you do when illness strikes and it is chronic or even worse, terminal? I don't think there is a simple way we can prepare for a long-lasting, hard, and painful illness that strikes our spouse. In that moment - your world stops spinning but the rest of the world goes on as normal. I don't think we can grasp the depth of strain that this circumstance might place on a marriage. Strain that includes financial and physical stress, the unknown, the permanent changes that need to happen to adjust to your new normal, the sadness, the guilt and the burdens both partners feel - one feeling like a burden and one wanting to be the strong one even though inside he/she is exhausted. This week's 52 Week Plan will prayerfully be an encouragement. We all need comfort from time to time. Though you might not ever have this difficult mountain to climb, you may be used by Jesus to bring comfort to those who do. We bump into sickness, colds, flus, but if I described your life above where a more lasting challenge is faced, may this week's plan be especially encouraging to you, the care giver and the spouse with health concerns. THREE SOURCES OF LIGHT - Help Us Experience Comfort Light Source #1: Jesus is the Light of the World (John 8:12) Walking in the Light: Having a fresh encounter with Jesus. (Comfort) The God of All Comfort2 Corinthians 1:3-5 Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. When Jesus Christ walked this earth prior to His ascension into heaven, even He - God's Son - needed and received comfort and encouragement from Father God. Think about the launching of Jesus' ministry at His baptism, when the Father spoke those encouraging and approving words, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased." Matthew 3:17 Remember another time in the Garden of Gethsemane prior to His crucifixion, when Jesus was forsaken by His disciples - who were supposed to stay awake and pray with/for Jesus - as He wrestled with His decision to go to the cross prior to His crucifixion. Here only His Father was truly present to comfort Him and an angel sent from the Father to strengthen Him. During chronic illness within a marriage, God may be the only one that can offer true comfort. As much as our friends, family and even spouse try and often do give us comfort, God knows best how to truly comfort because He is the only one that sees your deepest pain and need. Even as He gives comfort through your spouse or another friend, the comfort itself comes from God. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 Would you allow Him to BE "your" comfort today? Would you welcome those "angels" of comfort He sends to also be comforting and understanding friends. Often in difficult times it can seem that God is quiet, not listening, but know that He truly is present. He hears your cries in the middle of the night and He longs to comfort you. Would you come together with your spouse and pray? Ask God to be your comfort and share your heartfelt pain with Him and with your spouse or other friend. Your situation may not change as you envision it, but your heart will surely change. You can walk through this together with God holding you in perfect peace if you will allow yourself to trust Him. Please note that this is not a "one and done" healing. As in most situations it may take coming back to His "throne of grace to find mercy and grace to help in time of need." (Hebrews 4:16) May I pray for you too? Please email me at: TBI It would be my honor to lift you up to The God of ALL comfort! Jesus requested that His friends come along side Him in a desperately painful time in His life. You and I can do the same by asking our Father and our friends. Light Source #2: God's Word is a lamp and a light, so walk in the light of frequent experiences of doing His Word. Psalm 119: 105 Let's do: Philippians 4:6-7 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Living this verse out can be difficult, no doubt, but if you will allow God to have your illness, pain, hurt, anxiety, finances, fear, doubt, HE WILL give your heart peace. You probably won't understand the "why" of your circumstance on this side of heaven, but that's when your faith engages the ONE that does know the "why".! What you are walking through requires faith to be at peace. Somehow we want to take control of the situation because we just want to make it better, but we can't because we are NOT in control of many of these circumstances. This is hard but it is truth. Your pain is also tough on our spouse, family, and friends watching you from the sidelines. They also want to take control so they can make it better and make the pain stop, but they too have no ultimate control. Would you be vulnerable with them, those closest to you and come together to pray? Invite God into this situation and allow His peace to cover over you all like a veil. Allow HIS comfort and the comfort of your loved and dear ones to embrace the two of you. You may not be able to change your situation but your heart, mind, soul and attitude about your situation can be changed by God's caring love and His perspective. Light Source #3: God's people are sources of light so walk in real fellowship with your spouse and/or a trusted friend: "the light of the world." Matthew 5:14 For YOU, the caregiver: Friend, you need all the support you can get. You see it all, you carry it all on your shoulders, trying to be the strong one. You, out of everyone looking in on your spouse's situation, want your spouse to be well! To be the person he/she once was before illness struck. You want to make everything better and when you see that you can't.... helplessness may overcome you. You cry in the middle of the night so your spouse won't see you breaking...my heart hurts for you, friend. If I could say anything....please don't carry this pain on your own. I know you want to be strong for your spouse, but would you allow yourself to "fall apart", as may happen, with someone you trust? Friends that will comfort you and allow you to just be "raw and real" with them. Please know it is OK for you and your spouse to have days when you just hold each other and cry and comfort one another too. This is hard...you don't need to feel that you must wear your happy face every single day of this journey...Be real and Be honest and know it's OK. It's OK to Not Be OK For YOU, the one with illness: No one can even begin to know what you experience each day. Not only your physical pain but your thoughts, fears, anxiety, guilt and frankly just plain exhaustion from feeling the way you feel. You are suffering in more ways than just physical. I can only imagine that it is difficult to "have" to rely on others for help, physically, maybe financially (the cost of your condition I know must weigh on you too) but would you let them share the burden when they offer? If the table was turned, wouldn't you want to be a support and comfort for your spouse or friend? Most find it easier to be the giver rather than the "taker". God uses our circumstances, and He wants to use THIS circumstance to grow you in ways you may never have been able to until now. Sure, why does He have to use this illness to do that? We may never know "why", my friend, but remember it is trust and love God wants in all things. Galatians 5:6 As for your sweet spouse, the one who cares for you daily and loves you beyond words...would you allow him/her to comfort you? Know it is OK to be vulnerable and share your thoughts, your fears, your anxiety, your pain openly with him/her. Chances are pretty good that you are both feeling the same things. Use open, vulnerable communication with your spouse to allow you both to draw closer, understanding that this situation could easily drive you apart. My heart goes out to all who may be reading this and find themselves in a situation they never thought would happen. My prayer is that you will find comfort in God's loving arms and in the loving arms of your spouse today. May we at TBI pray for you? Please email us at TBI May your healing come quickly, my friend. 52 Week Plan written by Linda D'Avanzo: Edits by Dave Lewis The Basic Idea Like me on Facebook Find me on Pinterest The Basic Idea Ministries, 30 Eastover Drive, Cleveland, GA 30528 SafeUnsubscribe™ drboaz77@hotmail.com Forward this email | Update Profile | About our service provider Sent by linda.davanzo@thebasicidea.org in collaboration with Constant Contact Try it free today

[simplymorganunedited-blog]

Just Trying to Understand: Peter’s Story

Update: 1 week 5 days. It’s still not okay. 

My dad calls me every day. He’s worried, I can tell by his voice, and by the fact he calls me twice a day.

Real Talk: I don't know how to reassure him that I’m okay, because I’m not really sure that I am. 

Flashback: 1995-2013 

Mom is my world. Dad is a pleasant, nice man who buys ice cream. He works a lot, and is a little scary. He’s less likely to let me have what I want and he has more rules. Mom is better. 

I have pleasant memories of times with my Dad. We used to walk to the mail whenever he was home, and we’d stop at the Banff Clock Tower and get a gumball, literally every time. They cost 25 cents and they had one of those cool cause and effect gumball machines. (There’s and actual name for it, but it’s escaping me right now.)  It was so fascinating, even on the 200th gumball. The pink ones were the best. I loved watching the 6:00 CTV news with him, on days when my mom would work nights, because we would get to eat in front of my TV (RARE occasion in my household). It was always pork chops, pork chops and peas and pesto pasta. 

He wasn't around much, and most of my memories are of times with my mom. This wasn't his fault, just our circumstances. I felt like I didn't really know him. He was a nice man, a pleasant man; someone who I knew loved me very much. But her. I told her everything. She was the one I ran to, cried to, screamed at, loved with all of myself. 

September 2013: 

Me, Mom, and Dad. The living room. 

“Morgie, I have cancer.” 

*World implodes

May 11, 2014: 

Me and Dad. Red Deer Hospice. Room #2.

He’s crying. He should be. He reaches out to hug me. 

I pull away. 

I felt utterly abandoned. I had this gaping hole in my life. Not only had I lost my mother, best friend and adventure buddy, but I lost the one person in my life I felt like I could truly talk to. How on earth was I supposed to relate to this 54 year old mechanic? How could he understand me? How could I understand him? How the f**k were we going to survive? 

A lot of questions. No answers. 

July 2014:

One statement: “Mom should be here. Not you.”

It broke him.

I wish I didn’t say it. I wish I didn't think it.  

I wish I didn't mean it. 

We lived our lives around each other those first few years. Never really speaking, never really interacting. I missed a lot of hugs. I missed having a genuine connection with another human being; someone older, that I could talk to. But how could I talk to my DAD about how I didn't think boys liked me, or I felt awkward because a lot of my peers had started drinking and partying and I felt left out? Like honestly, how do you ask your 54 year old Dad for advice about that kind of stuff? 

I’m sure he missed it too. I’m sure he was so afraid, so unsure about doing something wrong; wanting to reach out to me, needing to talk, but not knowing how. I was too selfish to see it at the time, too blinded by my own anger, my own grief, to see him for what he was, what he is.

My Dad: The kind of guy who makes his own memes to cheer me up when I’ve had a bad day. (These almost always include pictures of owls, or cowboys from the Ponoka stampede) The kind of guy who makes me laugh out loud when he calls out hipster couples at coffee shops for being “f**cking weird.” The kind of man who drives three hours just to have coffee with me on Father’s Day. He makes me a cheesecake every year on my birthday. (Homemade, not store bought. Like the real deal) He draws a cat on every little note he leaves for me, because he knows it makes me smile. He always tells me to check my oil, which drives me crazy, but I know he does it because he loves me. He is the kind of man who sticks it out, through cancer, ED and everything in between, without a thought for himself. That’s who Peter Jenkin is. 

August 7, 2015: 

“Hey Dad. I need to talk to you about something when you get home.” 

He blamed himself. Of course he did. He was supposed to know, supposed to see, supposed to understand, he should have sent me to get counselling, he should have been more open, he should have communicated more, he should have listened, he should have done more research, he is so sorry. The list could go on forever. 

It broke my heart. How could I tell him; you didn't do this. Mom didn't do this. I didn't even do this. My brain did this. It’s no one’s fault. Dad this isn't your fault. 

I used to tell people, “My dad can fix everything, except the crack of dawn and a broken heart.” 

And me. 

He couldn't fix me. 

Real Talk: It’s been hard. It’s been hard to be open, to be candid, to be raw with my father.

I have spent my life perfecting myself, to everyone around me. I always have to be the best, the brightest, the most amazing. So, how do I show someone whose approval I crave over everyone’s the blackest, most broken part of myself? 

I just want him to be proud of me.

I also just want to protect him. I constantly feel like I’ve let him down, by being this way. He has had to deal with so much, be so strong, hold our entire world on his shoulders. Alone. He’s had to do it alone. 

This breaks me. 

So, how do I talk to him? How do I tell him when I’m struggling; because I know he’ll up until 3 am worrying, trying to figure out how to help me, blaming himself for not knowing how? How can I protect him from that? 

I just don't tell him. 

This hurts him more. 

Catch 22. 

“Morgie, I just want to understand.” 

So, how do I explain to him? How can I teach him what it’s like to hate yourself? How can I tell him about the times I stood in the laundry room while he was sleeping upstairs puking my guts out because I was terrified of ice cream? How do I tell him that the cheesecake he makes me for my birthday every year causes me unending amounts of anxiety? 

How? 

I know it hurts him. I know he’s worried. I know it scares the living hell out of him. I know he wishes she was here, just like I do, because she’s the only one in the world that could fix it. 

June 2017:

“Dad, he left.”

“Oh honey, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m alright. Plenty of fish in the sea right?” 

*Hangs up phone. Breaks down crying.

We haven't talked a lot since. I don't really know what to say. How do I tell him that it's been so much worse, that I don't want to eat? How do I explain to him how stressed I am, or that I’m emotionally, physically drained? How do I tell him that they sent me home early from work with heat exhaustion? 

I don't. Because he’ll worry. 

It hurts him. He worries anyway.

July 2017: 

“Morgie, I just want to understand.” 

Dad, I don't understand either.

[allenmendezsr]

Cure Ibs Naturally - Blue Heron Health News

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    Once upon a time IBS used to cripple me. Fighting it was a constant battle.

And without the risk of being or sounding melodramatic, it nearly ruined my life!

Thankfully, I’m well rid of it now!

IBS…Irritable Bowel Syndrome…Nervous Stomach…Irritable Stomach…Irritable Bowel…Irritable Colon…call it what you like, it’s all the same – awful!

It left me feeling frustrated, exhausted, depressed, and at times, just plain angry, but today I can confidently say that these things are all a thing of the past.

When It All Began

Now that I’m IBS free I’ve managed to get my life on track, but this hasn’t always been the case.

It first hit me at college – during my exams. Terrible timing, but not really that much of a surprise when you think about it.

Thinking back to when IBS really began to rear its ugly head, stress and assignment deadlines were constantly hanging over me.

In retrospect, after everything I’ve learned since becoming IBS free, it was an accumulation of things that contributed to my deteriorating health, stress being just one of them!

But still I had no idea what was going on with me. Back then I guess I just put it all down to those “exam nerves!” Wouldn’t you?

Food slowly started to become my mortal enemy.

Without going into too many unpleasant and graphic details, it either disagreed with me and went straight through me, or bloated me to the point where I sometimes appeared pregnant.

My typical diet was that “usual student diet”. You know, the kind that was ridiculously high in carbs, lots of grease, salt galore…basically, I ate anything sweet and stodgy, as you do in your college years.

But that wasn’t anything new. I’d been eating like that for some time. Partying was also the norm. It wouldn’t really be college if it were any different, right?

But like I said, my diet hadn’t really given me any grief up until that point.

BANG – Just Like That It Came From Nowhere

Even now that I don’t suffer from IBS anymore, I can vividly remember the physical and emotional turmoil my body went through time and time again.

Mild cramps that turned into gut wrenching ones (thank God I finally said good-bye to these IBS symptoms once and for all a while back).

I always thought that I had a high pain threshold, but the first time I really suffered from it properly I knew all about it.

I remember buckling over with the worst cramps I’d ever experienced. I have no words to really describe how it felt.

At times it felt like a knife had been stabbed into my stomach and twisted around ever so slowly.

I ended up going to the campus doctor. He sent me home, told me to drink more fluids and stop my worrying.

“Exam stress!” He said.

Stop worrying?

How?

Easier said than done. I guess he didn’t remember how he felt at medical school when his entire future was riding on a few hours in an exam room.

Luckily, I haven’t had to see a doctor for any IBS-related symptoms for years now, which I’m grateful for, as I felt like I had a medical loyalty card at one point, which would give me X points for every visit.

If loyalty cards for doctors’ visits were actually a thing, I’d have certainly racked up a fair few points.

Next…

Another doctor put it down to bad menstrual cramps and put me on the contraceptive pill to try and control it better.

It didn’t work.

And Then This Happened…

Two days before my exams I found myself in bed writhing in pain and suffering from diarrhea.

Despite not having experienced such excruciating pain in years, it’s all still very vivid.

You just can’t un-forget some things!

Every few minutes I found myself in the bathroom, afraid if I moved I’d have a very embarrassing mishap, which of course was the last thing any college student wanted.

Imagine!

Again, I found myself back in the doctor’s surgery staring at the sterile white walls, trying to blink back tears, and begging him to fix me so I could do my exams.

The same doctor as the last time gave me Imodium and told me to rest up.

Needless to say those exams didn’t go so well.

I listened to the doctors and wrote it all off as performance anxiety.

They were the experts after all! They knew best!

Ironically, it wasn’t a doctor that eventually cured my IBS.

Making Acquaintances With Doctors

After the whole college experience, I did see a number of different doctors with my various symptoms.

The exams were well and truly over, and by some miracle I passed them all and got the results I needed, but I was still experiencing strange gut sensations, lethargy, and uncomfortable pain.

I couldn’t blame those exam nerves anymore.

Something wasn’t right.

They all said the same thing – that I was the only one that could measure the symptoms, because unlike a simple sore throat that could be easily diagnosed by simply looking in the mouth and seeing redness and inflammation, and possibly even some miniscule white spots on your tonsils, my symptoms were broad and as most of the doctors said “immeasurable” from a medical standpoint.

How I Nearly Lost My Firm Tens Of Thousands Of Dollars

Fast-forward a few years when I was working in busy advertising firm.

I loved my job, and I was good at what I did.

I was slowly working my way up, and there were even whispers that I’d one day make partner, which of course is every person’s dream in the world of advertising and marketing.

We worked with some major clients and big-name brands, so the office was always buzzing.

Over the years I learned not to get star struck by some of the famous faces that walked in our doors, and I’d go as far as saying that I was in my dream job.

One day, in a board meeting, as I was listening to our Director pitch a new project idea to one of our longstanding clients (who also happened to be a Hollywood actor and director), I felt a sharp pain run across my stomach.

It took me by surprise. I grabbed onto my stomach. I may have even gasped.

The room went black and I could hear people buzzing around me.

My stomach bloated and I felt like it could explode at any moment.

I remember the Director’s PA giving me some water and asking me if I were OK.

I can’t remember what I mumbled back, but I do recall the looks of horror in the sea of very important faces that were sitting around that table.

I made a quick exit, without explanation, and ran to the bathroom.

It was at that stage my boss said to me I needed to get to a doctor quick. He cared, I knew he did, but he was also thinking about work.

Now that I’m 100 % healthy again, I completely understand where he was coming from. Having fewer people on board and having to hire temps could have potentially cost our company thousands, if not millions, of dollars.

Thankfully, our client was a loyal one and we were still able to get him on board.

I’d Been Lying To Myself

Honestly, I had been burying my head in the sand. Obviously, now that I don’t suffer from any of these awful symptoms anymore, it’s easy for me to say. But I really was petrified of what the doctors were going to tell me.

I replayed the worse case scenarios in my head over and over again.

I sat in front of another doctor yet again. I was pale and slightly yellow, almost jaundice, holding my stomach, and trying not to cry.

He nodded his head knowingly as I listed my symptoms.

Pain, excruciating pain at times.

Cramps, much worse than any monthly female ones.

Bloating and constipation…sometimes so bad, my stomach felt like it had tripled in size.

Diarrhea. This came and went. It was almost as if I alternated between being constipated and having diarrhea at times. Over the years, this had become more frequent, but I just hadn’t ever properly addressed it since my college years.

Fatigue was a massive one. I’d always been a bit of a night owl, but my body struggled to stay up late.

All of these symptoms wrecked havoc on my personal life.

I barely went out in a social capacity, and at times I became a recluse, isolating myself more.

This obviously led to even more things, such as depression, panic attacks and anxiety.

I had many a sleepless nights.

I relayed everything to the doctor, hoping he’d give me an answer.

He did!

But first he asked me to rank my pain.

There were two different types of criteria he worked on:

Rome criteria – this gauged the pain and discomfort I felt in my abdomen, and;

Manning criteria – this gauged the pain and discomfort I experienced when I was either constipated or passing stools.

I gave him my honest answers – they were high numbers!

“IBS!” He said quickly! “It looks like Irritable Bowel Syndrome!”

However, he could not be 100% sure since there is no actual formal diagnosis or tests for IBS.

Do you know that feeling of relief?

No pun intended, trust me!

Relief is what I felt at that very moment, relief that someone was finally able to put a name to what I had, although I’m even more relieved now that I don’t have to worry about any of this at all.

I think I may have even smiled through the pain at that moment!

I wasn’t even sure I knew what it was. I’d definitely heard of people having it before though.

My gym instructor, who was in her late 40s, was as slim and as fit as could be. She often complained about her IBS “flare ups” (as she would call them). There were times when I even had to do a double take – she often appeared “pregnant” out of nowhere.

“So what’s the cure?

“How do I fix this?”

My questions were innocent enough and quite ‘normal’ considering I was in a place where most people would expect to receive some sort of answer.

It Was Like A Slap Around The Face

“There is no cure!” The doctor replied in a very matter of fact way.

“Excuse me?” I shrieked.

He went on and on. I zoned in and out. I tried to force myself to listen and pay attention to what he was saying, because I’m sure something that he was saying must’ve been of value – he was a medical practitioner after all.

But those words kept ringing in my ears, “THERE IS NO CURE!”

All of a sudden I forgot my stomach cramps and nauseating pain. I felt sickness of another kind. I wanted to desperately throw up.

“No, no, no, no!” My voice screamed at me inside! “No!”

“But there are ways you can manage it!”

Honestly, if only I knew what I know now, and I could’ve been free from the shackles of IBS long ago.

I Couldn’t Believe What I Heard Next

Apparently there were ways to manage it.

Change your diet. I nodded solemnly. Although admittedly, my eating habits were far better than my college years when I lived on take-outs, pasta and beer. I considered my diet to be quite healthy.

He didn’t tell me what I should do to it though.

Cut out alcohol. Or at least limit it. I breathed in. Of course a doctor was going to say that.

Take laxatives for the constipation and Imodium for your diarrhea.

That was like an oxymoron.

He was telling me to take two drugs that basically triggered two of my major IBS (I was so glad I had a name for it finally) symptoms.

It didn’t make sense.

But he was the doctor. He knew best. Who was I to disagree with his six-plus years of medical school?

“Relax!”

I really wished doctors would stop telling me that. If it were that easy to sit back and take it easy, we’d be living in a hippie-type world and wearing flowers in our hair.

Needless to say I think I was left with even more questions than answers.

The Truth About IBS

I just don’t think doctors get it. Well how can they if they’ve never experienced the pain, discomfort, tiredness, and not to mention the sheer embarrassment themselves?

The honest truth is that IBS can turn your world upside down, and it can also catch you off guard, so I discovered the hard (and embarrassing) way.

When it strikes, it can mess up and disrupt everything going on in your life.

IBS doesn’t care if you’re in the middle of a multi-million dollar deal. It doesn’t care if you’re on the sideline watching your kids play Little League. It doesn’t care if you’re on a second date with someone. It really doesn’t care at all!

If that’s not bad enough, it also affects you in different ways, even between your episodes.

Once officially “diagnosed” (if you can call it that without any real tests), I found myself feeling anxious all the time.

“When is it going to strike next?”

That was why I found the doctors’ advice to stop stressing out to be a bit ironic.

I felt like it was impossible to enjoy life like it should be enjoyed.

I certainly couldn’t relax.

In fact, I’m almost certain that my constant worrying also negatively impacted my condition even more.

IBS Changed Me

I wish I could say that my initial confirmation from the doctors gave me comfort, but it didn’t.

I couldn’t see how taking both laxatives and Imodium could help me.

Nor could I see how I could relax more and stop stressing when I had no idea when it was going to catch me out again.

I did seek second and third opinions, but they all pretty gave me the same advice.

In the next year or so, the situation got even worse.

Sometimes I’d be off work 3 or 4 days in a row.

I’d lock myself in my room, in total darkness, praying that it would quickly pass.

I lost friends because of my IBS.

It’s not because they weren’t supportive of me; it was because I just couldn’t face going out into the real world. I went where I had to go and then headed immediately home.

I’d cancel on friends and family at the last minute. I’d turn down invites. And not surprisingly, the calls, messages, and invites slowly began to cool off.

My Career Suffered Too

Forget the day when I had to run out of the boardroom holding onto my stomach in agony…that day was just one of many!

And because I’d had no “cure” it meant that I still had IBS.

Chronic fatigue set in. As a result, my productivity suffered too, to the point that I was hauled in front of my boss and asked if I had some dependency issues. I think he was referring to drugs or alcohol.

To be fair, I’d lost weight, looked pale, and had permanent dark rings under my eyes.

I wasn’t a pretty sight.

I explained that I’d been diagnosed with IBS, but this meant nothing to him. He had a business to run.

I got a formal warning.

I got a written warning.

I lost my job.

The Tipping Point

Losing my job was a bit of a reality check.

I guess I could’ve fought it. I possibly could’ve sued them. But what was the point?

I had to figure it out. I needed to take control back. Because who, in their right mind, would ever employ me in such a state?

I wouldn’t!

Desperation sunk in.

No way was I going to pump myself up with a concoction of laxatives, Imodium and anti-depressants.

I joined every IBS forum I could find. I spent hours chatting on Facebook to people that were also suffering from it.

Some people had it even worse off than me. There were some that had lost their homes, and their families.

How could one condition that some stated wasn’t even a proper medical condition cause so many problems and wreck so many lives?

I’m just so thankful that I have a happy ending to my story and my IBS has well and truly gone.

Unfortunately, there are so many other people out there that can’t say the same. Because just like I had once done, they rely solely on the advice of doctors.

The Triggers

To say I became a little obsessed in ridding myself of this condition is an absolute understatement. All you had to do was go into my computer history to see what I mean.

Some friendly people online had been experimenting with treating their triggers.

What did I have to lose?

Surely, focusing on the triggers could at least minimize my flare-ups. Doing this could help me get back on track with everything. I was desperate to try and rebuild my life.

What I had learned about IBS was not one size fits all. Every single person is different, and what might trigger my IBS could be something completely different for someone else.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as the doctors made it out to be.

Dieting

One thing many doctors told me was to change my diet.

They told me to eliminate things, but they didn’t tell me what to remove.

I had no idea about how to eliminate and then re-add.

Was it a matter of going cold turkey with certain food?

I had no clue!

So while the medical experts’ advice sounded good and made sense to me in theory, it was difficult to put into practice without guidance.

So I took it upon myself to try almost every diet I could find online that came up when I tapped in the words “Diets for IBS”.

High-fiber diets, low-fiber diets, low-fat diets, the ketogenic diet, a gluten-free diet, and a low FODMAP diet were just some of the diets I attempted and failed at.

Nothing seemed to work!

Again, if I were armed with the information about how to get rid of IBS back then, things would’ve been completely different.

A Random Online Encounter Changed My Life

I lose count now as to how many online groups and forums I joined, however one thing for sure was that these were the groups that I regularly (and still do) interact with.

The difference now is that I’m often the one giving advice and pointing people towards the thing that can change their lives.

On particularly bad days, I sent public pleas for help and advice. I wanted to know anything and everything that has worked for other IBS sufferers.

Julissa contacted me on a random Saturday morning. She’d seen a post that I’d written. The post that referred to doctors telling me to eliminate things from my diet without giving me any details as to how to do it.

Elimination Was The Right Answer

She explained to me her family’s personal experiences with IBS and how elimination had worked for her niece.

But it all had to be done in a systematic way; otherwise the “elimination process” would be a fruitless exercise.

She definitely had my attention.

How I Became IBS Free In Literally No Time At All

Apparently I didn’t need long to reduce and perhaps get rid of some, or all, of my IBS symptoms.

I’d been fighting these symptoms for years. For the longest of time I didn’t even know I had IBS. I’d even lost the job that I’d absolutely loved because I just couldn’t get on top of things, which included my mental health.

This short period of time for healing myself compared to the countless days of anguish that I’d previously experienced was a drop in the ocean, and something I was 100 % willing to have a go at.

There were rules to be followed to get the answers I was looking for, which I did, and what I found out shocked me.

I learned that there were a few foods that set my IBS off; they were not dairy or wheat products like I’d originally thought or had been told.

I discovered I’ve always been quite an anxious person, long before my IBS problems – the IBS just exasperated everything. I learned that I couldn’t cure it, but I sure as hell could get it under control so I didn’t have to suffer from it on a day-to-day basis like I had been.

I found out that doing some simple meditative exercises and practicing some forms of mindfulness actually ease many of my triggers. They’re so easy (and also helpful in many other aspects of my life) that I still to this day do them despite being in the clear.

I’d pretty much consider myself to be IBS free.

Well, I haven’t experienced any of those awful IBS symptoms that are commonly associated with this crippling condition for well over a year. I’ve learned that there are ways to beat it and minimize the risk of having an episode again, and now that I’ve made those necessary and very easy tweaks in the way I live, my quality of life is so much better.

Empowerment and control are just two words I’d use to describe what this simple program has given me. And obviously, because everything has a knock-on effect, I feel more relaxed, less anxious and much happier.

Here’s to being IBS free now and the rest of my life!

The Truth About IBS

Once you go through Julissa’s step-by-step plan, you’ll quickly see and understand that there are more triggers (and secondary triggers) than what research tells us.

It’s about understanding your body and your environment. Each person is different.

But as well as triggers, there are other factors that contribute to IBS, which in a way I guess could be classified as triggers as well.

Your gut’s flora, its ability to chemically break down food, and intestinal and gut muscle spasms are all pieces of the bigger puzzle.

So What’s It All About?

This thorough and well laid out step-by-step plan addresses the physical and emotional triggers and the possible medical explanations of IBS.

I found the program easy to follow, and because of it I am now a happy and healthy person once more.

A clear cut diet, explicit instructions how to eliminate and re-introduce food, exercises, supplement advice, and additional information about alternative therapies are what make this step-by-step plan more useful and valuable than anything else I’ve read, including advice I received from doctors.

Because let’s face it, all the doctors I’d ever spoken to said that I could never get rid of my IBS, and how wrong they were…

Because I never suffer from it anymore!

Here’s The Thing…

To make it work, you’ve got to follow it. No cutting corners, no nonsense.

But it works.

I’m forever grateful for the advice I received from Julissa that day.

She reached out at the right time, when I needed help the most, when I felt like I was losing control.

I followed the step-by-step program and her advice down to a tee, and even in week one I began to notice differences.

I feel like a whole new person, mentally and physically, and I’m happy to report I am currently IBS free, and I have been for some time, and I credit it all to this amazingly informative plan.

Although I do consider myself cured, I still follow the plan – I consider it to be my bible.

My diet is on point. The exercises have become a regular part of my daily life. I supplement with Vitamin D, turmeric, and magnesium, AND…

I’ve never felt happier and healthier!

Not only am I back working, I’ve also managed to land a position I love.

My friendships are back on track, and I’ve even found happiness in love as well.

OK, so this program isn’t magic in the fact it will find you a new romance or rekindle friendships, but it will point you in the direction you need and give you all the necessary information.

One thing I can vouch for is that it definitely worked for me.

Over To You

If you suffer from IBS, whether it’s a mild form or chronic, I know you’re not 100% happy.

I also know that you’ve been suffering from pain and discomfort.

The thing about this step-by-step plan is it is so incredibly easy to follow. Like super easy!

I didn’t need to buy anything new!

No expensive “diet” foods. No gym memberships or equipment. No expensive experimental drugs. Nothing!

The best thing is I don’t have to spend endless hours in doctors’ surgeries or hospitals waiting for answers anymore.

I’m proud to say that I haven’t stepped into a doctor’s office for almost a year and half, which is quite a feat for somebody that had once frequented every family practice in the locale on a regular basis.

The exercises I did (and still do) at home. Sometimes, when I have a moment, I also do them at work, because they’re that short and that easy. And when I have to travel for work, I often find myself doing them on the plane.

They’re great, because I can incorporate them into my everyday life with ease without any disruption.

I’ve learned to change my lifestyle. I continue to follow all the instructions. Because by doing this, I know that I’ll be able to maintain a life free of IBS and its crippling symptoms.

Click below to get your easy to follow step-by-step program today.

Yes, please send me my step-by-step plan now…

Nothing To Lose

What have you got to lose by trying this method out?

Other than your awful IBS symptoms and unhappiness?

Even in my desperation I was a little skeptical of it all, especially since I’d tried and failed so many other methods, and no doctor I’d visited could help me like I’d hoped they would.

This clear program isn’t made up from nothing. It’s based on scientific factual evidence concerning the triggers of IBS.

It’s an easy-to-follow plan, and because it is so easy, it’s not that difficult to include it in your life and make the necessary tweaks in the way you live.

And if you’re anything like me, once you start noticing the differences, you’ll become determined to make it work for you and continue with the program well after the suggested time is up.

Julissa’s program is different to the rest.

It’s so simple. It’s easy to follow and it also offers some step-by-step instructions.

What makes this plan even more unique is that it looks at IBS holistically. It looks at every aspect of IBS and all its triggers. From there, everything is separated into manageable chunks, which make it easy (and even fun) to follow.

Trust me when I say you won’t live to regret this.

I hope that you too can find all the answers for your IBS you’re looking for just like I did.

Here’s to living IBS free forever!

You’re 90 seconds away from owning a program designed to make things right for you.

Click here and it’s yours….

PS: I really hope that you too can find some relief from this awful condition like I have. But if for some reason you aren’t satisfied with your outcome, Julissa offers a 60-day money back guarantee, no questions asked, however, I’m almost certain you’ll never need to use this guarantee.

Believe me, I’ve never been happier and healthier in all my life!

[allenmendezsr]

Cure Ibs Naturally - Blue Heron Health News

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Cure Ibs Naturally - Blue Heron Health News

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    Once upon a time IBS used to cripple me. Fighting it was a constant battle.

And without the risk of being or sounding melodramatic, it nearly ruined my life!

Thankfully, I’m well rid of it now!

IBS…Irritable Bowel Syndrome…Nervous Stomach…Irritable Stomach…Irritable Bowel…Irritable Colon…call it what you like, it’s all the same – awful!

It left me feeling frustrated, exhausted, depressed, and at times, just plain angry, but today I can confidently say that these things are all a thing of the past.

When It All Began

Now that I’m IBS free I’ve managed to get my life on track, but this hasn’t always been the case.

It first hit me at college – during my exams. Terrible timing, but not really that much of a surprise when you think about it.

Thinking back to when IBS really began to rear its ugly head, stress and assignment deadlines were constantly hanging over me.

In retrospect, after everything I’ve learned since becoming IBS free, it was an accumulation of things that contributed to my deteriorating health, stress being just one of them!

But still I had no idea what was going on with me. Back then I guess I just put it all down to those “exam nerves!” Wouldn’t you?

Food slowly started to become my mortal enemy.

Without going into too many unpleasant and graphic details, it either disagreed with me and went straight through me, or bloated me to the point where I sometimes appeared pregnant.

My typical diet was that “usual student diet”. You know, the kind that was ridiculously high in carbs, lots of grease, salt galore…basically, I ate anything sweet and stodgy, as you do in your college years.

But that wasn’t anything new. I’d been eating like that for some time. Partying was also the norm. It wouldn’t really be college if it were any different, right?

But like I said, my diet hadn’t really given me any grief up until that point.

BANG – Just Like That It Came From Nowhere

Even now that I don’t suffer from IBS anymore, I can vividly remember the physical and emotional turmoil my body went through time and time again.

Mild cramps that turned into gut wrenching ones (thank God I finally said good-bye to these IBS symptoms once and for all a while back).

I always thought that I had a high pain threshold, but the first time I really suffered from it properly I knew all about it.

I remember buckling over with the worst cramps I’d ever experienced. I have no words to really describe how it felt.

At times it felt like a knife had been stabbed into my stomach and twisted around ever so slowly.

I ended up going to the campus doctor. He sent me home, told me to drink more fluids and stop my worrying.

“Exam stress!” He said.

Stop worrying?

How?

Easier said than done. I guess he didn’t remember how he felt at medical school when his entire future was riding on a few hours in an exam room.

Luckily, I haven’t had to see a doctor for any IBS-related symptoms for years now, which I’m grateful for, as I felt like I had a medical loyalty card at one point, which would give me X points for every visit.

If loyalty cards for doctors’ visits were actually a thing, I’d have certainly racked up a fair few points.

Next…

Another doctor put it down to bad menstrual cramps and put me on the contraceptive pill to try and control it better.

It didn’t work.

And Then This Happened…

Two days before my exams I found myself in bed writhing in pain and suffering from diarrhea.

Despite not having experienced such excruciating pain in years, it’s all still very vivid.

You just can’t un-forget some things!

Every few minutes I found myself in the bathroom, afraid if I moved I’d have a very embarrassing mishap, which of course was the last thing any college student wanted.

Imagine!

Again, I found myself back in the doctor’s surgery staring at the sterile white walls, trying to blink back tears, and begging him to fix me so I could do my exams.

The same doctor as the last time gave me Imodium and told me to rest up.

Needless to say those exams didn’t go so well.

I listened to the doctors and wrote it all off as performance anxiety.

They were the experts after all! They knew best!

Ironically, it wasn’t a doctor that eventually cured my IBS.

Making Acquaintances With Doctors

After the whole college experience, I did see a number of different doctors with my various symptoms.

The exams were well and truly over, and by some miracle I passed them all and got the results I needed, but I was still experiencing strange gut sensations, lethargy, and uncomfortable pain.

I couldn’t blame those exam nerves anymore.

Something wasn’t right.

They all said the same thing – that I was the only one that could measure the symptoms, because unlike a simple sore throat that could be easily diagnosed by simply looking in the mouth and seeing redness and inflammation, and possibly even some miniscule white spots on your tonsils, my symptoms were broad and as most of the doctors said “immeasurable” from a medical standpoint.

How I Nearly Lost My Firm Tens Of Thousands Of Dollars

Fast-forward a few years when I was working in busy advertising firm.

I loved my job, and I was good at what I did.

I was slowly working my way up, and there were even whispers that I’d one day make partner, which of course is every person’s dream in the world of advertising and marketing.

We worked with some major clients and big-name brands, so the office was always buzzing.

Over the years I learned not to get star struck by some of the famous faces that walked in our doors, and I’d go as far as saying that I was in my dream job.

One day, in a board meeting, as I was listening to our Director pitch a new project idea to one of our longstanding clients (who also happened to be a Hollywood actor and director), I felt a sharp pain run across my stomach.

It took me by surprise. I grabbed onto my stomach. I may have even gasped.

The room went black and I could hear people buzzing around me.

My stomach bloated and I felt like it could explode at any moment.

I remember the Director’s PA giving me some water and asking me if I were OK.

I can’t remember what I mumbled back, but I do recall the looks of horror in the sea of very important faces that were sitting around that table.

I made a quick exit, without explanation, and ran to the bathroom.

It was at that stage my boss said to me I needed to get to a doctor quick. He cared, I knew he did, but he was also thinking about work.

Now that I’m 100 % healthy again, I completely understand where he was coming from. Having fewer people on board and having to hire temps could have potentially cost our company thousands, if not millions, of dollars.

Thankfully, our client was a loyal one and we were still able to get him on board.

I’d Been Lying To Myself

Honestly, I had been burying my head in the sand. Obviously, now that I don’t suffer from any of these awful symptoms anymore, it’s easy for me to say. But I really was petrified of what the doctors were going to tell me.

I replayed the worse case scenarios in my head over and over again.

I sat in front of another doctor yet again. I was pale and slightly yellow, almost jaundice, holding my stomach, and trying not to cry.

He nodded his head knowingly as I listed my symptoms.

Pain, excruciating pain at times.

Cramps, much worse than any monthly female ones.

Bloating and constipation…sometimes so bad, my stomach felt like it had tripled in size.

Diarrhea. This came and went. It was almost as if I alternated between being constipated and having diarrhea at times. Over the years, this had become more frequent, but I just hadn’t ever properly addressed it since my college years.

Fatigue was a massive one. I’d always been a bit of a night owl, but my body struggled to stay up late.

All of these symptoms wrecked havoc on my personal life.

I barely went out in a social capacity, and at times I became a recluse, isolating myself more.

This obviously led to even more things, such as depression, panic attacks and anxiety.

I had many a sleepless nights.

I relayed everything to the doctor, hoping he’d give me an answer.

He did!

But first he asked me to rank my pain.

There were two different types of criteria he worked on:

Rome criteria – this gauged the pain and discomfort I felt in my abdomen, and;

Manning criteria – this gauged the pain and discomfort I experienced when I was either constipated or passing stools.

I gave him my honest answers – they were high numbers!

“IBS!” He said quickly! “It looks like Irritable Bowel Syndrome!”

However, he could not be 100% sure since there is no actual formal diagnosis or tests for IBS.

Do you know that feeling of relief?

No pun intended, trust me!

Relief is what I felt at that very moment, relief that someone was finally able to put a name to what I had, although I’m even more relieved now that I don’t have to worry about any of this at all.

I think I may have even smiled through the pain at that moment!

I wasn’t even sure I knew what it was. I’d definitely heard of people having it before though.

My gym instructor, who was in her late 40s, was as slim and as fit as could be. She often complained about her IBS “flare ups” (as she would call them). There were times when I even had to do a double take – she often appeared “pregnant” out of nowhere.

“So what’s the cure?

“How do I fix this?”

My questions were innocent enough and quite ‘normal’ considering I was in a place where most people would expect to receive some sort of answer.

It Was Like A Slap Around The Face

“There is no cure!” The doctor replied in a very matter of fact way.

“Excuse me?” I shrieked.

He went on and on. I zoned in and out. I tried to force myself to listen and pay attention to what he was saying, because I’m sure something that he was saying must’ve been of value – he was a medical practitioner after all.

But those words kept ringing in my ears, “THERE IS NO CURE!”

All of a sudden I forgot my stomach cramps and nauseating pain. I felt sickness of another kind. I wanted to desperately throw up.

“No, no, no, no!” My voice screamed at me inside! “No!”

“But there are ways you can manage it!”

Honestly, if only I knew what I know now, and I could’ve been free from the shackles of IBS long ago.

I Couldn’t Believe What I Heard Next

Apparently there were ways to manage it.

Change your diet. I nodded solemnly. Although admittedly, my eating habits were far better than my college years when I lived on take-outs, pasta and beer. I considered my diet to be quite healthy.

He didn’t tell me what I should do to it though.

Cut out alcohol. Or at least limit it. I breathed in. Of course a doctor was going to say that.

Take laxatives for the constipation and Imodium for your diarrhea.

That was like an oxymoron.

He was telling me to take two drugs that basically triggered two of my major IBS (I was so glad I had a name for it finally) symptoms.

It didn’t make sense.

But he was the doctor. He knew best. Who was I to disagree with his six-plus years of medical school?

“Relax!”

I really wished doctors would stop telling me that. If it were that easy to sit back and take it easy, we’d be living in a hippie-type world and wearing flowers in our hair.

Needless to say I think I was left with even more questions than answers.

The Truth About IBS

I just don’t think doctors get it. Well how can they if they’ve never experienced the pain, discomfort, tiredness, and not to mention the sheer embarrassment themselves?

The honest truth is that IBS can turn your world upside down, and it can also catch you off guard, so I discovered the hard (and embarrassing) way.

When it strikes, it can mess up and disrupt everything going on in your life.

IBS doesn’t care if you’re in the middle of a multi-million dollar deal. It doesn’t care if you’re on the sideline watching your kids play Little League. It doesn’t care if you’re on a second date with someone. It really doesn’t care at all!

If that’s not bad enough, it also affects you in different ways, even between your episodes.

Once officially “diagnosed” (if you can call it that without any real tests), I found myself feeling anxious all the time.

“When is it going to strike next?”

That was why I found the doctors’ advice to stop stressing out to be a bit ironic.

I felt like it was impossible to enjoy life like it should be enjoyed.

I certainly couldn’t relax.

In fact, I’m almost certain that my constant worrying also negatively impacted my condition even more.

IBS Changed Me

I wish I could say that my initial confirmation from the doctors gave me comfort, but it didn’t.

I couldn’t see how taking both laxatives and Imodium could help me.

Nor could I see how I could relax more and stop stressing when I had no idea when it was going to catch me out again.

I did seek second and third opinions, but they all pretty gave me the same advice.

In the next year or so, the situation got even worse.

Sometimes I’d be off work 3 or 4 days in a row.

I’d lock myself in my room, in total darkness, praying that it would quickly pass.

I lost friends because of my IBS.

It’s not because they weren’t supportive of me; it was because I just couldn’t face going out into the real world. I went where I had to go and then headed immediately home.

I’d cancel on friends and family at the last minute. I’d turn down invites. And not surprisingly, the calls, messages, and invites slowly began to cool off.

My Career Suffered Too

Forget the day when I had to run out of the boardroom holding onto my stomach in agony…that day was just one of many!

And because I’d had no “cure” it meant that I still had IBS.

Chronic fatigue set in. As a result, my productivity suffered too, to the point that I was hauled in front of my boss and asked if I had some dependency issues. I think he was referring to drugs or alcohol.

To be fair, I’d lost weight, looked pale, and had permanent dark rings under my eyes.

I wasn’t a pretty sight.

I explained that I’d been diagnosed with IBS, but this meant nothing to him. He had a business to run.

I got a formal warning.

I got a written warning.

I lost my job.

The Tipping Point

Losing my job was a bit of a reality check.

I guess I could’ve fought it. I possibly could’ve sued them. But what was the point?

I had to figure it out. I needed to take control back. Because who, in their right mind, would ever employ me in such a state?

I wouldn’t!

Desperation sunk in.

No way was I going to pump myself up with a concoction of laxatives, Imodium and anti-depressants.

I joined every IBS forum I could find. I spent hours chatting on Facebook to people that were also suffering from it.

Some people had it even worse off than me. There were some that had lost their homes, and their families.

How could one condition that some stated wasn’t even a proper medical condition cause so many problems and wreck so many lives?

I’m just so thankful that I have a happy ending to my story and my IBS has well and truly gone.

Unfortunately, there are so many other people out there that can’t say the same. Because just like I had once done, they rely solely on the advice of doctors.

The Triggers

To say I became a little obsessed in ridding myself of this condition is an absolute understatement. All you had to do was go into my computer history to see what I mean.

Some friendly people online had been experimenting with treating their triggers.

What did I have to lose?

Surely, focusing on the triggers could at least minimize my flare-ups. Doing this could help me get back on track with everything. I was desperate to try and rebuild my life.

What I had learned about IBS was not one size fits all. Every single person is different, and what might trigger my IBS could be something completely different for someone else.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as the doctors made it out to be.

Dieting

One thing many doctors told me was to change my diet.

They told me to eliminate things, but they didn’t tell me what to remove.

I had no idea about how to eliminate and then re-add.

Was it a matter of going cold turkey with certain food?

I had no clue!

So while the medical experts’ advice sounded good and made sense to me in theory, it was difficult to put into practice without guidance.

So I took it upon myself to try almost every diet I could find online that came up when I tapped in the words “Diets for IBS”.

High-fiber diets, low-fiber diets, low-fat diets, the ketogenic diet, a gluten-free diet, and a low FODMAP diet were just some of the diets I attempted and failed at.

Nothing seemed to work!

Again, if I were armed with the information about how to get rid of IBS back then, things would’ve been completely different.

A Random Online Encounter Changed My Life

I lose count now as to how many online groups and forums I joined, however one thing for sure was that these were the groups that I regularly (and still do) interact with.

The difference now is that I’m often the one giving advice and pointing people towards the thing that can change their lives.

On particularly bad days, I sent public pleas for help and advice. I wanted to know anything and everything that has worked for other IBS sufferers.

Julissa contacted me on a random Saturday morning. She’d seen a post that I’d written. The post that referred to doctors telling me to eliminate things from my diet without giving me any details as to how to do it.

Elimination Was The Right Answer

She explained to me her family’s personal experiences with IBS and how elimination had worked for her niece.

But it all had to be done in a systematic way; otherwise the “elimination process” would be a fruitless exercise.

She definitely had my attention.

How I Became IBS Free In Literally No Time At All

Apparently I didn’t need long to reduce and perhaps get rid of some, or all, of my IBS symptoms.

I’d been fighting these symptoms for years. For the longest of time I didn’t even know I had IBS. I’d even lost the job that I’d absolutely loved because I just couldn’t get on top of things, which included my mental health.

This short period of time for healing myself compared to the countless days of anguish that I’d previously experienced was a drop in the ocean, and something I was 100 % willing to have a go at.

There were rules to be followed to get the answers I was looking for, which I did, and what I found out shocked me.

I learned that there were a few foods that set my IBS off; they were not dairy or wheat products like I’d originally thought or had been told.

I discovered I’ve always been quite an anxious person, long before my IBS problems – the IBS just exasperated everything. I learned that I couldn’t cure it, but I sure as hell could get it under control so I didn’t have to suffer from it on a day-to-day basis like I had been.

I found out that doing some simple meditative exercises and practicing some forms of mindfulness actually ease many of my triggers. They’re so easy (and also helpful in many other aspects of my life) that I still to this day do them despite being in the clear.

I’d pretty much consider myself to be IBS free.

Well, I haven’t experienced any of those awful IBS symptoms that are commonly associated with this crippling condition for well over a year. I’ve learned that there are ways to beat it and minimize the risk of having an episode again, and now that I’ve made those necessary and very easy tweaks in the way I live, my quality of life is so much better.

Empowerment and control are just two words I’d use to describe what this simple program has given me. And obviously, because everything has a knock-on effect, I feel more relaxed, less anxious and much happier.

Here’s to being IBS free now and the rest of my life!

The Truth About IBS

Once you go through Julissa’s step-by-step plan, you’ll quickly see and understand that there are more triggers (and secondary triggers) than what research tells us.

It’s about understanding your body and your environment. Each person is different.

But as well as triggers, there are other factors that contribute to IBS, which in a way I guess could be classified as triggers as well.

Your gut’s flora, its ability to chemically break down food, and intestinal and gut muscle spasms are all pieces of the bigger puzzle.

So What’s It All About?

This thorough and well laid out step-by-step plan addresses the physical and emotional triggers and the possible medical explanations of IBS.

I found the program easy to follow, and because of it I am now a happy and healthy person once more.

A clear cut diet, explicit instructions how to eliminate and re-introduce food, exercises, supplement advice, and additional information about alternative therapies are what make this step-by-step plan more useful and valuable than anything else I’ve read, including advice I received from doctors.

Because let’s face it, all the doctors I’d ever spoken to said that I could never get rid of my IBS, and how wrong they were…

Because I never suffer from it anymore!

Here’s The Thing…

To make it work, you’ve got to follow it. No cutting corners, no nonsense.

But it works.

I’m forever grateful for the advice I received from Julissa that day.

She reached out at the right time, when I needed help the most, when I felt like I was losing control.

I followed the step-by-step program and her advice down to a tee, and even in week one I began to notice differences.

I feel like a whole new person, mentally and physically, and I’m happy to report I am currently IBS free, and I have been for some time, and I credit it all to this amazingly informative plan.

Although I do consider myself cured, I still follow the plan – I consider it to be my bible.

My diet is on point. The exercises have become a regular part of my daily life. I supplement with Vitamin D, turmeric, and magnesium, AND…

I’ve never felt happier and healthier!

Not only am I back working, I’ve also managed to land a position I love.

My friendships are back on track, and I’ve even found happiness in love as well.

OK, so this program isn’t magic in the fact it will find you a new romance or rekindle friendships, but it will point you in the direction you need and give you all the necessary information.

One thing I can vouch for is that it definitely worked for me.

Over To You

If you suffer from IBS, whether it’s a mild form or chronic, I know you’re not 100% happy.

I also know that you’ve been suffering from pain and discomfort.

The thing about this step-by-step plan is it is so incredibly easy to follow. Like super easy!

I didn’t need to buy anything new!

No expensive “diet” foods. No gym memberships or equipment. No expensive experimental drugs. Nothing!

The best thing is I don’t have to spend endless hours in doctors’ surgeries or hospitals waiting for answers anymore.

I’m proud to say that I haven’t stepped into a doctor’s office for almost a year and half, which is quite a feat for somebody that had once frequented every family practice in the locale on a regular basis.

The exercises I did (and still do) at home. Sometimes, when I have a moment, I also do them at work, because they’re that short and that easy. And when I have to travel for work, I often find myself doing them on the plane.

They’re great, because I can incorporate them into my everyday life with ease without any disruption.

I’ve learned to change my lifestyle. I continue to follow all the instructions. Because by doing this, I know that I’ll be able to maintain a life free of IBS and its crippling symptoms.

Click below to get your easy to follow step-by-step program today.

Yes, please send me my step-by-step plan now…

Nothing To Lose

What have you got to lose by trying this method out?

Other than your awful IBS symptoms and unhappiness?

Even in my desperation I was a little skeptical of it all, especially since I’d tried and failed so many other methods, and no doctor I’d visited could help me like I’d hoped they would.

This clear program isn’t made up from nothing. It’s based on scientific factual evidence concerning the triggers of IBS.

It’s an easy-to-follow plan, and because it is so easy, it’s not that difficult to include it in your life and make the necessary tweaks in the way you live.

And if you’re anything like me, once you start noticing the differences, you’ll become determined to make it work for you and continue with the program well after the suggested time is up.

Julissa’s program is different to the rest.

It’s so simple. It’s easy to follow and it also offers some step-by-step instructions.

What makes this plan even more unique is that it looks at IBS holistically. It looks at every aspect of IBS and all its triggers. From there, everything is separated into manageable chunks, which make it easy (and even fun) to follow.

Trust me when I say you won’t live to regret this.

I hope that you too can find all the answers for your IBS you’re looking for just like I did.

Here’s to living IBS free forever!

You’re 90 seconds away from owning a program designed to make things right for you.

Click here and it’s yours….

PS: I really hope that you too can find some relief from this awful condition like I have. But if for some reason you aren’t satisfied with your outcome, Julissa offers a 60-day money back guarantee, no questions asked, however, I’m almost certain you’ll never need to use this guarantee.

Believe me, I’ve never been happier and healthier in all my life!

[allenmendezsr]

Cure Ibs Naturally - Blue Heron Health News

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Cure Ibs Naturally - Blue Heron Health News

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    Once upon a time IBS used to cripple me. Fighting it was a constant battle.

And without the risk of being or sounding melodramatic, it nearly ruined my life!

Thankfully, I’m well rid of it now!

IBS…Irritable Bowel Syndrome…Nervous Stomach…Irritable Stomach…Irritable Bowel…Irritable Colon…call it what you like, it’s all the same – awful!

It left me feeling frustrated, exhausted, depressed, and at times, just plain angry, but today I can confidently say that these things are all a thing of the past.

When It All Began

Now that I’m IBS free I’ve managed to get my life on track, but this hasn’t always been the case.

It first hit me at college – during my exams. Terrible timing, but not really that much of a surprise when you think about it.

Thinking back to when IBS really began to rear its ugly head, stress and assignment deadlines were constantly hanging over me.

In retrospect, after everything I’ve learned since becoming IBS free, it was an accumulation of things that contributed to my deteriorating health, stress being just one of them!

But still I had no idea what was going on with me. Back then I guess I just put it all down to those “exam nerves!” Wouldn’t you?

Food slowly started to become my mortal enemy.

Without going into too many unpleasant and graphic details, it either disagreed with me and went straight through me, or bloated me to the point where I sometimes appeared pregnant.

My typical diet was that “usual student diet”. You know, the kind that was ridiculously high in carbs, lots of grease, salt galore…basically, I ate anything sweet and stodgy, as you do in your college years.

But that wasn’t anything new. I’d been eating like that for some time. Partying was also the norm. It wouldn’t really be college if it were any different, right?

But like I said, my diet hadn’t really given me any grief up until that point.

BANG – Just Like That It Came From Nowhere

Even now that I don’t suffer from IBS anymore, I can vividly remember the physical and emotional turmoil my body went through time and time again.

Mild cramps that turned into gut wrenching ones (thank God I finally said good-bye to these IBS symptoms once and for all a while back).

I always thought that I had a high pain threshold, but the first time I really suffered from it properly I knew all about it.

I remember buckling over with the worst cramps I’d ever experienced. I have no words to really describe how it felt.

At times it felt like a knife had been stabbed into my stomach and twisted around ever so slowly.

I ended up going to the campus doctor. He sent me home, told me to drink more fluids and stop my worrying.

“Exam stress!” He said.

Stop worrying?

How?

Easier said than done. I guess he didn’t remember how he felt at medical school when his entire future was riding on a few hours in an exam room.

Luckily, I haven’t had to see a doctor for any IBS-related symptoms for years now, which I’m grateful for, as I felt like I had a medical loyalty card at one point, which would give me X points for every visit.

If loyalty cards for doctors’ visits were actually a thing, I’d have certainly racked up a fair few points.

Next…

Another doctor put it down to bad menstrual cramps and put me on the contraceptive pill to try and control it better.

It didn’t work.

And Then This Happened…

Two days before my exams I found myself in bed writhing in pain and suffering from diarrhea.

Despite not having experienced such excruciating pain in years, it’s all still very vivid.

You just can’t un-forget some things!

Every few minutes I found myself in the bathroom, afraid if I moved I’d have a very embarrassing mishap, which of course was the last thing any college student wanted.

Imagine!

Again, I found myself back in the doctor’s surgery staring at the sterile white walls, trying to blink back tears, and begging him to fix me so I could do my exams.

The same doctor as the last time gave me Imodium and told me to rest up.

Needless to say those exams didn’t go so well.

I listened to the doctors and wrote it all off as performance anxiety.

They were the experts after all! They knew best!

Ironically, it wasn’t a doctor that eventually cured my IBS.

Making Acquaintances With Doctors

After the whole college experience, I did see a number of different doctors with my various symptoms.

The exams were well and truly over, and by some miracle I passed them all and got the results I needed, but I was still experiencing strange gut sensations, lethargy, and uncomfortable pain.

I couldn’t blame those exam nerves anymore.

Something wasn’t right.

They all said the same thing – that I was the only one that could measure the symptoms, because unlike a simple sore throat that could be easily diagnosed by simply looking in the mouth and seeing redness and inflammation, and possibly even some miniscule white spots on your tonsils, my symptoms were broad and as most of the doctors said “immeasurable” from a medical standpoint.

How I Nearly Lost My Firm Tens Of Thousands Of Dollars

Fast-forward a few years when I was working in busy advertising firm.

I loved my job, and I was good at what I did.

I was slowly working my way up, and there were even whispers that I’d one day make partner, which of course is every person’s dream in the world of advertising and marketing.

We worked with some major clients and big-name brands, so the office was always buzzing.

Over the years I learned not to get star struck by some of the famous faces that walked in our doors, and I’d go as far as saying that I was in my dream job.

One day, in a board meeting, as I was listening to our Director pitch a new project idea to one of our longstanding clients (who also happened to be a Hollywood actor and director), I felt a sharp pain run across my stomach.

It took me by surprise. I grabbed onto my stomach. I may have even gasped.

The room went black and I could hear people buzzing around me.

My stomach bloated and I felt like it could explode at any moment.

I remember the Director’s PA giving me some water and asking me if I were OK.

I can’t remember what I mumbled back, but I do recall the looks of horror in the sea of very important faces that were sitting around that table.

I made a quick exit, without explanation, and ran to the bathroom.

It was at that stage my boss said to me I needed to get to a doctor quick. He cared, I knew he did, but he was also thinking about work.

Now that I’m 100 % healthy again, I completely understand where he was coming from. Having fewer people on board and having to hire temps could have potentially cost our company thousands, if not millions, of dollars.

Thankfully, our client was a loyal one and we were still able to get him on board.

I’d Been Lying To Myself

Honestly, I had been burying my head in the sand. Obviously, now that I don’t suffer from any of these awful symptoms anymore, it’s easy for me to say. But I really was petrified of what the doctors were going to tell me.

I replayed the worse case scenarios in my head over and over again.

I sat in front of another doctor yet again. I was pale and slightly yellow, almost jaundice, holding my stomach, and trying not to cry.

He nodded his head knowingly as I listed my symptoms.

Pain, excruciating pain at times.

Cramps, much worse than any monthly female ones.

Bloating and constipation…sometimes so bad, my stomach felt like it had tripled in size.

Diarrhea. This came and went. It was almost as if I alternated between being constipated and having diarrhea at times. Over the years, this had become more frequent, but I just hadn’t ever properly addressed it since my college years.

Fatigue was a massive one. I’d always been a bit of a night owl, but my body struggled to stay up late.

All of these symptoms wrecked havoc on my personal life.

I barely went out in a social capacity, and at times I became a recluse, isolating myself more.

This obviously led to even more things, such as depression, panic attacks and anxiety.

I had many a sleepless nights.

I relayed everything to the doctor, hoping he’d give me an answer.

He did!

But first he asked me to rank my pain.

There were two different types of criteria he worked on:

Rome criteria – this gauged the pain and discomfort I felt in my abdomen, and;

Manning criteria – this gauged the pain and discomfort I experienced when I was either constipated or passing stools.

I gave him my honest answers – they were high numbers!

“IBS!” He said quickly! “It looks like Irritable Bowel Syndrome!”

However, he could not be 100% sure since there is no actual formal diagnosis or tests for IBS.

Do you know that feeling of relief?

No pun intended, trust me!

Relief is what I felt at that very moment, relief that someone was finally able to put a name to what I had, although I’m even more relieved now that I don’t have to worry about any of this at all.

I think I may have even smiled through the pain at that moment!

I wasn’t even sure I knew what it was. I’d definitely heard of people having it before though.

My gym instructor, who was in her late 40s, was as slim and as fit as could be. She often complained about her IBS “flare ups” (as she would call them). There were times when I even had to do a double take – she often appeared “pregnant” out of nowhere.

“So what’s the cure?

“How do I fix this?”

My questions were innocent enough and quite ‘normal’ considering I was in a place where most people would expect to receive some sort of answer.

It Was Like A Slap Around The Face

“There is no cure!” The doctor replied in a very matter of fact way.

“Excuse me?” I shrieked.

He went on and on. I zoned in and out. I tried to force myself to listen and pay attention to what he was saying, because I’m sure something that he was saying must’ve been of value – he was a medical practitioner after all.

But those words kept ringing in my ears, “THERE IS NO CURE!”

All of a sudden I forgot my stomach cramps and nauseating pain. I felt sickness of another kind. I wanted to desperately throw up.

“No, no, no, no!” My voice screamed at me inside! “No!”

“But there are ways you can manage it!”

Honestly, if only I knew what I know now, and I could’ve been free from the shackles of IBS long ago.

I Couldn’t Believe What I Heard Next

Apparently there were ways to manage it.

Change your diet. I nodded solemnly. Although admittedly, my eating habits were far better than my college years when I lived on take-outs, pasta and beer. I considered my diet to be quite healthy.

He didn’t tell me what I should do to it though.

Cut out alcohol. Or at least limit it. I breathed in. Of course a doctor was going to say that.

Take laxatives for the constipation and Imodium for your diarrhea.

That was like an oxymoron.

He was telling me to take two drugs that basically triggered two of my major IBS (I was so glad I had a name for it finally) symptoms.

It didn’t make sense.

But he was the doctor. He knew best. Who was I to disagree with his six-plus years of medical school?

“Relax!”

I really wished doctors would stop telling me that. If it were that easy to sit back and take it easy, we’d be living in a hippie-type world and wearing flowers in our hair.

Needless to say I think I was left with even more questions than answers.

The Truth About IBS

I just don’t think doctors get it. Well how can they if they’ve never experienced the pain, discomfort, tiredness, and not to mention the sheer embarrassment themselves?

The honest truth is that IBS can turn your world upside down, and it can also catch you off guard, so I discovered the hard (and embarrassing) way.

When it strikes, it can mess up and disrupt everything going on in your life.

IBS doesn’t care if you’re in the middle of a multi-million dollar deal. It doesn’t care if you’re on the sideline watching your kids play Little League. It doesn’t care if you’re on a second date with someone. It really doesn’t care at all!

If that’s not bad enough, it also affects you in different ways, even between your episodes.

Once officially “diagnosed” (if you can call it that without any real tests), I found myself feeling anxious all the time.

“When is it going to strike next?”

That was why I found the doctors’ advice to stop stressing out to be a bit ironic.

I felt like it was impossible to enjoy life like it should be enjoyed.

I certainly couldn’t relax.

In fact, I’m almost certain that my constant worrying also negatively impacted my condition even more.

IBS Changed Me

I wish I could say that my initial confirmation from the doctors gave me comfort, but it didn’t.

I couldn’t see how taking both laxatives and Imodium could help me.

Nor could I see how I could relax more and stop stressing when I had no idea when it was going to catch me out again.

I did seek second and third opinions, but they all pretty gave me the same advice.

In the next year or so, the situation got even worse.

Sometimes I’d be off work 3 or 4 days in a row.

I’d lock myself in my room, in total darkness, praying that it would quickly pass.

I lost friends because of my IBS.

It’s not because they weren’t supportive of me; it was because I just couldn’t face going out into the real world. I went where I had to go and then headed immediately home.

I’d cancel on friends and family at the last minute. I’d turn down invites. And not surprisingly, the calls, messages, and invites slowly began to cool off.

My Career Suffered Too

Forget the day when I had to run out of the boardroom holding onto my stomach in agony…that day was just one of many!

And because I’d had no “cure” it meant that I still had IBS.

Chronic fatigue set in. As a result, my productivity suffered too, to the point that I was hauled in front of my boss and asked if I had some dependency issues. I think he was referring to drugs or alcohol.

To be fair, I’d lost weight, looked pale, and had permanent dark rings under my eyes.

I wasn’t a pretty sight.

I explained that I’d been diagnosed with IBS, but this meant nothing to him. He had a business to run.

I got a formal warning.

I got a written warning.

I lost my job.

The Tipping Point

Losing my job was a bit of a reality check.

I guess I could’ve fought it. I possibly could’ve sued them. But what was the point?

I had to figure it out. I needed to take control back. Because who, in their right mind, would ever employ me in such a state?

I wouldn’t!

Desperation sunk in.

No way was I going to pump myself up with a concoction of laxatives, Imodium and anti-depressants.

I joined every IBS forum I could find. I spent hours chatting on Facebook to people that were also suffering from it.

Some people had it even worse off than me. There were some that had lost their homes, and their families.

How could one condition that some stated wasn’t even a proper medical condition cause so many problems and wreck so many lives?

I’m just so thankful that I have a happy ending to my story and my IBS has well and truly gone.

Unfortunately, there are so many other people out there that can’t say the same. Because just like I had once done, they rely solely on the advice of doctors.

The Triggers

To say I became a little obsessed in ridding myself of this condition is an absolute understatement. All you had to do was go into my computer history to see what I mean.

Some friendly people online had been experimenting with treating their triggers.

What did I have to lose?

Surely, focusing on the triggers could at least minimize my flare-ups. Doing this could help me get back on track with everything. I was desperate to try and rebuild my life.

What I had learned about IBS was not one size fits all. Every single person is different, and what might trigger my IBS could be something completely different for someone else.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as the doctors made it out to be.

Dieting

One thing many doctors told me was to change my diet.

They told me to eliminate things, but they didn’t tell me what to remove.

I had no idea about how to eliminate and then re-add.

Was it a matter of going cold turkey with certain food?

I had no clue!

So while the medical experts’ advice sounded good and made sense to me in theory, it was difficult to put into practice without guidance.

So I took it upon myself to try almost every diet I could find online that came up when I tapped in the words “Diets for IBS”.

High-fiber diets, low-fiber diets, low-fat diets, the ketogenic diet, a gluten-free diet, and a low FODMAP diet were just some of the diets I attempted and failed at.

Nothing seemed to work!

Again, if I were armed with the information about how to get rid of IBS back then, things would’ve been completely different.

A Random Online Encounter Changed My Life

I lose count now as to how many online groups and forums I joined, however one thing for sure was that these were the groups that I regularly (and still do) interact with.

The difference now is that I’m often the one giving advice and pointing people towards the thing that can change their lives.

On particularly bad days, I sent public pleas for help and advice. I wanted to know anything and everything that has worked for other IBS sufferers.

Julissa contacted me on a random Saturday morning. She’d seen a post that I’d written. The post that referred to doctors telling me to eliminate things from my diet without giving me any details as to how to do it.

Elimination Was The Right Answer

She explained to me her family’s personal experiences with IBS and how elimination had worked for her niece.

But it all had to be done in a systematic way; otherwise the “elimination process” would be a fruitless exercise.

She definitely had my attention.

How I Became IBS Free In Literally No Time At All

Apparently I didn’t need long to reduce and perhaps get rid of some, or all, of my IBS symptoms.

I’d been fighting these symptoms for years. For the longest of time I didn’t even know I had IBS. I’d even lost the job that I’d absolutely loved because I just couldn’t get on top of things, which included my mental health.

This short period of time for healing myself compared to the countless days of anguish that I’d previously experienced was a drop in the ocean, and something I was 100 % willing to have a go at.

There were rules to be followed to get the answers I was looking for, which I did, and what I found out shocked me.

I learned that there were a few foods that set my IBS off; they were not dairy or wheat products like I’d originally thought or had been told.

I discovered I’ve always been quite an anxious person, long before my IBS problems – the IBS just exasperated everything. I learned that I couldn’t cure it, but I sure as hell could get it under control so I didn’t have to suffer from it on a day-to-day basis like I had been.

I found out that doing some simple meditative exercises and practicing some forms of mindfulness actually ease many of my triggers. They’re so easy (and also helpful in many other aspects of my life) that I still to this day do them despite being in the clear.

I’d pretty much consider myself to be IBS free.

Well, I haven’t experienced any of those awful IBS symptoms that are commonly associated with this crippling condition for well over a year. I’ve learned that there are ways to beat it and minimize the risk of having an episode again, and now that I’ve made those necessary and very easy tweaks in the way I live, my quality of life is so much better.

Empowerment and control are just two words I’d use to describe what this simple program has given me. And obviously, because everything has a knock-on effect, I feel more relaxed, less anxious and much happier.

Here’s to being IBS free now and the rest of my life!

The Truth About IBS

Once you go through Julissa’s step-by-step plan, you’ll quickly see and understand that there are more triggers (and secondary triggers) than what research tells us.

It’s about understanding your body and your environment. Each person is different.

But as well as triggers, there are other factors that contribute to IBS, which in a way I guess could be classified as triggers as well.

Your gut’s flora, its ability to chemically break down food, and intestinal and gut muscle spasms are all pieces of the bigger puzzle.

So What’s It All About?

This thorough and well laid out step-by-step plan addresses the physical and emotional triggers and the possible medical explanations of IBS.

I found the program easy to follow, and because of it I am now a happy and healthy person once more.

A clear cut diet, explicit instructions how to eliminate and re-introduce food, exercises, supplement advice, and additional information about alternative therapies are what make this step-by-step plan more useful and valuable than anything else I’ve read, including advice I received from doctors.

Because let’s face it, all the doctors I’d ever spoken to said that I could never get rid of my IBS, and how wrong they were…

Because I never suffer from it anymore!

Here’s The Thing…

To make it work, you’ve got to follow it. No cutting corners, no nonsense.

But it works.

I’m forever grateful for the advice I received from Julissa that day.

She reached out at the right time, when I needed help the most, when I felt like I was losing control.

I followed the step-by-step program and her advice down to a tee, and even in week one I began to notice differences.

I feel like a whole new person, mentally and physically, and I’m happy to report I am currently IBS free, and I have been for some time, and I credit it all to this amazingly informative plan.

Although I do consider myself cured, I still follow the plan – I consider it to be my bible.

My diet is on point. The exercises have become a regular part of my daily life. I supplement with Vitamin D, turmeric, and magnesium, AND…

I’ve never felt happier and healthier!

Not only am I back working, I’ve also managed to land a position I love.

My friendships are back on track, and I’ve even found happiness in love as well.

OK, so this program isn’t magic in the fact it will find you a new romance or rekindle friendships, but it will point you in the direction you need and give you all the necessary information.

One thing I can vouch for is that it definitely worked for me.

Over To You

If you suffer from IBS, whether it’s a mild form or chronic, I know you’re not 100% happy.

I also know that you’ve been suffering from pain and discomfort.

The thing about this step-by-step plan is it is so incredibly easy to follow. Like super easy!

I didn’t need to buy anything new!

No expensive “diet” foods. No gym memberships or equipment. No expensive experimental drugs. Nothing!

The best thing is I don’t have to spend endless hours in doctors’ surgeries or hospitals waiting for answers anymore.

I’m proud to say that I haven’t stepped into a doctor’s office for almost a year and half, which is quite a feat for somebody that had once frequented every family practice in the locale on a regular basis.

The exercises I did (and still do) at home. Sometimes, when I have a moment, I also do them at work, because they’re that short and that easy. And when I have to travel for work, I often find myself doing them on the plane.

They’re great, because I can incorporate them into my everyday life with ease without any disruption.

I’ve learned to change my lifestyle. I continue to follow all the instructions. Because by doing this, I know that I’ll be able to maintain a life free of IBS and its crippling symptoms.

Click below to get your easy to follow step-by-step program today.

Yes, please send me my step-by-step plan now…

Nothing To Lose

What have you got to lose by trying this method out?

Other than your awful IBS symptoms and unhappiness?

Even in my desperation I was a little skeptical of it all, especially since I’d tried and failed so many other methods, and no doctor I’d visited could help me like I’d hoped they would.

This clear program isn’t made up from nothing. It’s based on scientific factual evidence concerning the triggers of IBS.

It’s an easy-to-follow plan, and because it is so easy, it’s not that difficult to include it in your life and make the necessary tweaks in the way you live.

And if you’re anything like me, once you start noticing the differences, you’ll become determined to make it work for you and continue with the program well after the suggested time is up.

Julissa’s program is different to the rest.

It’s so simple. It’s easy to follow and it also offers some step-by-step instructions.

What makes this plan even more unique is that it looks at IBS holistically. It looks at every aspect of IBS and all its triggers. From there, everything is separated into manageable chunks, which make it easy (and even fun) to follow.

Trust me when I say you won’t live to regret this.

I hope that you too can find all the answers for your IBS you’re looking for just like I did.

Here’s to living IBS free forever!

You’re 90 seconds away from owning a program designed to make things right for you.

Click here and it’s yours….

PS: I really hope that you too can find some relief from this awful condition like I have. But if for some reason you aren’t satisfied with your outcome, Julissa offers a 60-day money back guarantee, no questions asked, however, I’m almost certain you’ll never need to use this guarantee.

Believe me, I’ve never been happier and healthier in all my life!

[allenmendezsr]

Cure Ibs Naturally - Blue Heron Health News

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Cure Ibs Naturally - Blue Heron Health News

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    Once upon a time IBS used to cripple me. Fighting it was a constant battle.

And without the risk of being or sounding melodramatic, it nearly ruined my life!

Thankfully, I’m well rid of it now!

IBS…Irritable Bowel Syndrome…Nervous Stomach…Irritable Stomach…Irritable Bowel…Irritable Colon…call it what you like, it’s all the same – awful!

It left me feeling frustrated, exhausted, depressed, and at times, just plain angry, but today I can confidently say that these things are all a thing of the past.

When It All Began

Now that I’m IBS free I’ve managed to get my life on track, but this hasn’t always been the case.

It first hit me at college – during my exams. Terrible timing, but not really that much of a surprise when you think about it.

Thinking back to when IBS really began to rear its ugly head, stress and assignment deadlines were constantly hanging over me.

In retrospect, after everything I’ve learned since becoming IBS free, it was an accumulation of things that contributed to my deteriorating health, stress being just one of them!

But still I had no idea what was going on with me. Back then I guess I just put it all down to those “exam nerves!” Wouldn’t you?

Food slowly started to become my mortal enemy.

Without going into too many unpleasant and graphic details, it either disagreed with me and went straight through me, or bloated me to the point where I sometimes appeared pregnant.

My typical diet was that “usual student diet”. You know, the kind that was ridiculously high in carbs, lots of grease, salt galore…basically, I ate anything sweet and stodgy, as you do in your college years.

But that wasn’t anything new. I’d been eating like that for some time. Partying was also the norm. It wouldn’t really be college if it were any different, right?

But like I said, my diet hadn’t really given me any grief up until that point.

BANG – Just Like That It Came From Nowhere

Even now that I don’t suffer from IBS anymore, I can vividly remember the physical and emotional turmoil my body went through time and time again.

Mild cramps that turned into gut wrenching ones (thank God I finally said good-bye to these IBS symptoms once and for all a while back).

I always thought that I had a high pain threshold, but the first time I really suffered from it properly I knew all about it.

I remember buckling over with the worst cramps I’d ever experienced. I have no words to really describe how it felt.

At times it felt like a knife had been stabbed into my stomach and twisted around ever so slowly.

I ended up going to the campus doctor. He sent me home, told me to drink more fluids and stop my worrying.

“Exam stress!” He said.

Stop worrying?

How?

Easier said than done. I guess he didn’t remember how he felt at medical school when his entire future was riding on a few hours in an exam room.

Luckily, I haven’t had to see a doctor for any IBS-related symptoms for years now, which I’m grateful for, as I felt like I had a medical loyalty card at one point, which would give me X points for every visit.

If loyalty cards for doctors’ visits were actually a thing, I’d have certainly racked up a fair few points.

Next…

Another doctor put it down to bad menstrual cramps and put me on the contraceptive pill to try and control it better.

It didn’t work.

And Then This Happened…

Two days before my exams I found myself in bed writhing in pain and suffering from diarrhea.

Despite not having experienced such excruciating pain in years, it’s all still very vivid.

You just can’t un-forget some things!

Every few minutes I found myself in the bathroom, afraid if I moved I’d have a very embarrassing mishap, which of course was the last thing any college student wanted.

Imagine!

Again, I found myself back in the doctor’s surgery staring at the sterile white walls, trying to blink back tears, and begging him to fix me so I could do my exams.

The same doctor as the last time gave me Imodium and told me to rest up.

Needless to say those exams didn’t go so well.

I listened to the doctors and wrote it all off as performance anxiety.

They were the experts after all! They knew best!

Ironically, it wasn’t a doctor that eventually cured my IBS.

Making Acquaintances With Doctors

After the whole college experience, I did see a number of different doctors with my various symptoms.

The exams were well and truly over, and by some miracle I passed them all and got the results I needed, but I was still experiencing strange gut sensations, lethargy, and uncomfortable pain.

I couldn’t blame those exam nerves anymore.

Something wasn’t right.

They all said the same thing – that I was the only one that could measure the symptoms, because unlike a simple sore throat that could be easily diagnosed by simply looking in the mouth and seeing redness and inflammation, and possibly even some miniscule white spots on your tonsils, my symptoms were broad and as most of the doctors said “immeasurable” from a medical standpoint.

How I Nearly Lost My Firm Tens Of Thousands Of Dollars

Fast-forward a few years when I was working in busy advertising firm.

I loved my job, and I was good at what I did.

I was slowly working my way up, and there were even whispers that I’d one day make partner, which of course is every person’s dream in the world of advertising and marketing.

We worked with some major clients and big-name brands, so the office was always buzzing.

Over the years I learned not to get star struck by some of the famous faces that walked in our doors, and I’d go as far as saying that I was in my dream job.

One day, in a board meeting, as I was listening to our Director pitch a new project idea to one of our longstanding clients (who also happened to be a Hollywood actor and director), I felt a sharp pain run across my stomach.

It took me by surprise. I grabbed onto my stomach. I may have even gasped.

The room went black and I could hear people buzzing around me.

My stomach bloated and I felt like it could explode at any moment.

I remember the Director’s PA giving me some water and asking me if I were OK.

I can’t remember what I mumbled back, but I do recall the looks of horror in the sea of very important faces that were sitting around that table.

I made a quick exit, without explanation, and ran to the bathroom.

It was at that stage my boss said to me I needed to get to a doctor quick. He cared, I knew he did, but he was also thinking about work.

Now that I’m 100 % healthy again, I completely understand where he was coming from. Having fewer people on board and having to hire temps could have potentially cost our company thousands, if not millions, of dollars.

Thankfully, our client was a loyal one and we were still able to get him on board.

I’d Been Lying To Myself

Honestly, I had been burying my head in the sand. Obviously, now that I don’t suffer from any of these awful symptoms anymore, it’s easy for me to say. But I really was petrified of what the doctors were going to tell me.

I replayed the worse case scenarios in my head over and over again.

I sat in front of another doctor yet again. I was pale and slightly yellow, almost jaundice, holding my stomach, and trying not to cry.

He nodded his head knowingly as I listed my symptoms.

Pain, excruciating pain at times.

Cramps, much worse than any monthly female ones.

Bloating and constipation…sometimes so bad, my stomach felt like it had tripled in size.

Diarrhea. This came and went. It was almost as if I alternated between being constipated and having diarrhea at times. Over the years, this had become more frequent, but I just hadn’t ever properly addressed it since my college years.

Fatigue was a massive one. I’d always been a bit of a night owl, but my body struggled to stay up late.

All of these symptoms wrecked havoc on my personal life.

I barely went out in a social capacity, and at times I became a recluse, isolating myself more.

This obviously led to even more things, such as depression, panic attacks and anxiety.

I had many a sleepless nights.

I relayed everything to the doctor, hoping he’d give me an answer.

He did!

But first he asked me to rank my pain.

There were two different types of criteria he worked on:

Rome criteria – this gauged the pain and discomfort I felt in my abdomen, and;

Manning criteria – this gauged the pain and discomfort I experienced when I was either constipated or passing stools.

I gave him my honest answers – they were high numbers!

“IBS!” He said quickly! “It looks like Irritable Bowel Syndrome!”

However, he could not be 100% sure since there is no actual formal diagnosis or tests for IBS.

Do you know that feeling of relief?

No pun intended, trust me!

Relief is what I felt at that very moment, relief that someone was finally able to put a name to what I had, although I’m even more relieved now that I don’t have to worry about any of this at all.

I think I may have even smiled through the pain at that moment!

I wasn’t even sure I knew what it was. I’d definitely heard of people having it before though.

My gym instructor, who was in her late 40s, was as slim and as fit as could be. She often complained about her IBS “flare ups” (as she would call them). There were times when I even had to do a double take – she often appeared “pregnant” out of nowhere.

“So what’s the cure?

“How do I fix this?”

My questions were innocent enough and quite ‘normal’ considering I was in a place where most people would expect to receive some sort of answer.

It Was Like A Slap Around The Face

“There is no cure!” The doctor replied in a very matter of fact way.

“Excuse me?” I shrieked.

He went on and on. I zoned in and out. I tried to force myself to listen and pay attention to what he was saying, because I’m sure something that he was saying must’ve been of value – he was a medical practitioner after all.

But those words kept ringing in my ears, “THERE IS NO CURE!”

All of a sudden I forgot my stomach cramps and nauseating pain. I felt sickness of another kind. I wanted to desperately throw up.

“No, no, no, no!” My voice screamed at me inside! “No!”

“But there are ways you can manage it!”

Honestly, if only I knew what I know now, and I could’ve been free from the shackles of IBS long ago.

I Couldn’t Believe What I Heard Next

Apparently there were ways to manage it.

Change your diet. I nodded solemnly. Although admittedly, my eating habits were far better than my college years when I lived on take-outs, pasta and beer. I considered my diet to be quite healthy.

He didn’t tell me what I should do to it though.

Cut out alcohol. Or at least limit it. I breathed in. Of course a doctor was going to say that.

Take laxatives for the constipation and Imodium for your diarrhea.

That was like an oxymoron.

He was telling me to take two drugs that basically triggered two of my major IBS (I was so glad I had a name for it finally) symptoms.

It didn’t make sense.

But he was the doctor. He knew best. Who was I to disagree with his six-plus years of medical school?

“Relax!”

I really wished doctors would stop telling me that. If it were that easy to sit back and take it easy, we’d be living in a hippie-type world and wearing flowers in our hair.

Needless to say I think I was left with even more questions than answers.

The Truth About IBS

I just don’t think doctors get it. Well how can they if they’ve never experienced the pain, discomfort, tiredness, and not to mention the sheer embarrassment themselves?

The honest truth is that IBS can turn your world upside down, and it can also catch you off guard, so I discovered the hard (and embarrassing) way.

When it strikes, it can mess up and disrupt everything going on in your life.

IBS doesn’t care if you’re in the middle of a multi-million dollar deal. It doesn’t care if you’re on the sideline watching your kids play Little League. It doesn’t care if you’re on a second date with someone. It really doesn’t care at all!

If that’s not bad enough, it also affects you in different ways, even between your episodes.

Once officially “diagnosed” (if you can call it that without any real tests), I found myself feeling anxious all the time.

“When is it going to strike next?”

That was why I found the doctors’ advice to stop stressing out to be a bit ironic.

I felt like it was impossible to enjoy life like it should be enjoyed.

I certainly couldn’t relax.

In fact, I’m almost certain that my constant worrying also negatively impacted my condition even more.

IBS Changed Me

I wish I could say that my initial confirmation from the doctors gave me comfort, but it didn’t.

I couldn’t see how taking both laxatives and Imodium could help me.

Nor could I see how I could relax more and stop stressing when I had no idea when it was going to catch me out again.

I did seek second and third opinions, but they all pretty gave me the same advice.

In the next year or so, the situation got even worse.

Sometimes I’d be off work 3 or 4 days in a row.

I’d lock myself in my room, in total darkness, praying that it would quickly pass.

I lost friends because of my IBS.

It’s not because they weren’t supportive of me; it was because I just couldn’t face going out into the real world. I went where I had to go and then headed immediately home.

I’d cancel on friends and family at the last minute. I’d turn down invites. And not surprisingly, the calls, messages, and invites slowly began to cool off.

My Career Suffered Too

Forget the day when I had to run out of the boardroom holding onto my stomach in agony…that day was just one of many!

And because I’d had no “cure” it meant that I still had IBS.

Chronic fatigue set in. As a result, my productivity suffered too, to the point that I was hauled in front of my boss and asked if I had some dependency issues. I think he was referring to drugs or alcohol.

To be fair, I’d lost weight, looked pale, and had permanent dark rings under my eyes.

I wasn’t a pretty sight.

I explained that I’d been diagnosed with IBS, but this meant nothing to him. He had a business to run.

I got a formal warning.

I got a written warning.

I lost my job.

The Tipping Point

Losing my job was a bit of a reality check.

I guess I could’ve fought it. I possibly could’ve sued them. But what was the point?

I had to figure it out. I needed to take control back. Because who, in their right mind, would ever employ me in such a state?

I wouldn’t!

Desperation sunk in.

No way was I going to pump myself up with a concoction of laxatives, Imodium and anti-depressants.

I joined every IBS forum I could find. I spent hours chatting on Facebook to people that were also suffering from it.

Some people had it even worse off than me. There were some that had lost their homes, and their families.

How could one condition that some stated wasn’t even a proper medical condition cause so many problems and wreck so many lives?

I’m just so thankful that I have a happy ending to my story and my IBS has well and truly gone.

Unfortunately, there are so many other people out there that can’t say the same. Because just like I had once done, they rely solely on the advice of doctors.

The Triggers

To say I became a little obsessed in ridding myself of this condition is an absolute understatement. All you had to do was go into my computer history to see what I mean.

Some friendly people online had been experimenting with treating their triggers.

What did I have to lose?

Surely, focusing on the triggers could at least minimize my flare-ups. Doing this could help me get back on track with everything. I was desperate to try and rebuild my life.

What I had learned about IBS was not one size fits all. Every single person is different, and what might trigger my IBS could be something completely different for someone else.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t as easy as the doctors made it out to be.

Dieting

One thing many doctors told me was to change my diet.

They told me to eliminate things, but they didn’t tell me what to remove.

I had no idea about how to eliminate and then re-add.

Was it a matter of going cold turkey with certain food?

I had no clue!

So while the medical experts’ advice sounded good and made sense to me in theory, it was difficult to put into practice without guidance.

So I took it upon myself to try almost every diet I could find online that came up when I tapped in the words “Diets for IBS”.

High-fiber diets, low-fiber diets, low-fat diets, the ketogenic diet, a gluten-free diet, and a low FODMAP diet were just some of the diets I attempted and failed at.

Nothing seemed to work!

Again, if I were armed with the information about how to get rid of IBS back then, things would’ve been completely different.

A Random Online Encounter Changed My Life

I lose count now as to how many online groups and forums I joined, however one thing for sure was that these were the groups that I regularly (and still do) interact with.

The difference now is that I’m often the one giving advice and pointing people towards the thing that can change their lives.

On particularly bad days, I sent public pleas for help and advice. I wanted to know anything and everything that has worked for other IBS sufferers.

Julissa contacted me on a random Saturday morning. She’d seen a post that I’d written. The post that referred to doctors telling me to eliminate things from my diet without giving me any details as to how to do it.

Elimination Was The Right Answer

She explained to me her family’s personal experiences with IBS and how elimination had worked for her niece.

But it all had to be done in a systematic way; otherwise the “elimination process” would be a fruitless exercise.

She definitely had my attention.

How I Became IBS Free In Literally No Time At All

Apparently I didn’t need long to reduce and perhaps get rid of some, or all, of my IBS symptoms.

I’d been fighting these symptoms for years. For the longest of time I didn’t even know I had IBS. I’d even lost the job that I’d absolutely loved because I just couldn’t get on top of things, which included my mental health.

This short period of time for healing myself compared to the countless days of anguish that I’d previously experienced was a drop in the ocean, and something I was 100 % willing to have a go at.

There were rules to be followed to get the answers I was looking for, which I did, and what I found out shocked me.

I learned that there were a few foods that set my IBS off; they were not dairy or wheat products like I’d originally thought or had been told.

I discovered I’ve always been quite an anxious person, long before my IBS problems – the IBS just exasperated everything. I learned that I couldn’t cure it, but I sure as hell could get it under control so I didn’t have to suffer from it on a day-to-day basis like I had been.

I found out that doing some simple meditative exercises and practicing some forms of mindfulness actually ease many of my triggers. They’re so easy (and also helpful in many other aspects of my life) that I still to this day do them despite being in the clear.

I’d pretty much consider myself to be IBS free.

Well, I haven’t experienced any of those awful IBS symptoms that are commonly associated with this crippling condition for well over a year. I’ve learned that there are ways to beat it and minimize the risk of having an episode again, and now that I’ve made those necessary and very easy tweaks in the way I live, my quality of life is so much better.

Empowerment and control are just two words I’d use to describe what this simple program has given me. And obviously, because everything has a knock-on effect, I feel more relaxed, less anxious and much happier.

Here’s to being IBS free now and the rest of my life!

The Truth About IBS

Once you go through Julissa’s step-by-step plan, you’ll quickly see and understand that there are more triggers (and secondary triggers) than what research tells us.

It’s about understanding your body and your environment. Each person is different.

But as well as triggers, there are other factors that contribute to IBS, which in a way I guess could be classified as triggers as well.

Your gut’s flora, its ability to chemically break down food, and intestinal and gut muscle spasms are all pieces of the bigger puzzle.

So What’s It All About?

This thorough and well laid out step-by-step plan addresses the physical and emotional triggers and the possible medical explanations of IBS.

I found the program easy to follow, and because of it I am now a happy and healthy person once more.

A clear cut diet, explicit instructions how to eliminate and re-introduce food, exercises, supplement advice, and additional information about alternative therapies are what make this step-by-step plan more useful and valuable than anything else I’ve read, including advice I received from doctors.

Because let’s face it, all the doctors I’d ever spoken to said that I could never get rid of my IBS, and how wrong they were…

Because I never suffer from it anymore!

Here’s The Thing…

To make it work, you’ve got to follow it. No cutting corners, no nonsense.

But it works.

I’m forever grateful for the advice I received from Julissa that day.

She reached out at the right time, when I needed help the most, when I felt like I was losing control.

I followed the step-by-step program and her advice down to a tee, and even in week one I began to notice differences.

I feel like a whole new person, mentally and physically, and I’m happy to report I am currently IBS free, and I have been for some time, and I credit it all to this amazingly informative plan.

Although I do consider myself cured, I still follow the plan – I consider it to be my bible.

My diet is on point. The exercises have become a regular part of my daily life. I supplement with Vitamin D, turmeric, and magnesium, AND…

I’ve never felt happier and healthier!

Not only am I back working, I’ve also managed to land a position I love.

My friendships are back on track, and I’ve even found happiness in love as well.

OK, so this program isn’t magic in the fact it will find you a new romance or rekindle friendships, but it will point you in the direction you need and give you all the necessary information.

One thing I can vouch for is that it definitely worked for me.

Over To You

If you suffer from IBS, whether it’s a mild form or chronic, I know you’re not 100% happy.

I also know that you’ve been suffering from pain and discomfort.

The thing about this step-by-step plan is it is so incredibly easy to follow. Like super easy!

I didn’t need to buy anything new!

No expensive “diet” foods. No gym memberships or equipment. No expensive experimental drugs. Nothing!

The best thing is I don’t have to spend endless hours in doctors’ surgeries or hospitals waiting for answers anymore.

I’m proud to say that I haven’t stepped into a doctor’s office for almost a year and half, which is quite a feat for somebody that had once frequented every family practice in the locale on a regular basis.

The exercises I did (and still do) at home. Sometimes, when I have a moment, I also do them at work, because they’re that short and that easy. And when I have to travel for work, I often find myself doing them on the plane.

They’re great, because I can incorporate them into my everyday life with ease without any disruption.

I’ve learned to change my lifestyle. I continue to follow all the instructions. Because by doing this, I know that I’ll be able to maintain a life free of IBS and its crippling symptoms.

Click below to get your easy to follow step-by-step program today.

Yes, please send me my step-by-step plan now…

Nothing To Lose

What have you got to lose by trying this method out?

Other than your awful IBS symptoms and unhappiness?

Even in my desperation I was a little skeptical of it all, especially since I’d tried and failed so many other methods, and no doctor I’d visited could help me like I’d hoped they would.

This clear program isn’t made up from nothing. It’s based on scientific factual evidence concerning the triggers of IBS.

It’s an easy-to-follow plan, and because it is so easy, it’s not that difficult to include it in your life and make the necessary tweaks in the way you live.

And if you’re anything like me, once you start noticing the differences, you’ll become determined to make it work for you and continue with the program well after the suggested time is up.

Julissa’s program is different to the rest.

It’s so simple. It’s easy to follow and it also offers some step-by-step instructions.

What makes this plan even more unique is that it looks at IBS holistically. It looks at every aspect of IBS and all its triggers. From there, everything is separated into manageable chunks, which make it easy (and even fun) to follow.

Trust me when I say you won’t live to regret this.

I hope that you too can find all the answers for your IBS you’re looking for just like I did.

Here’s to living IBS free forever!

You’re 90 seconds away from owning a program designed to make things right for you.

Click here and it’s yours….

PS: I really hope that you too can find some relief from this awful condition like I have. But if for some reason you aren’t satisfied with your outcome, Julissa offers a 60-day money back guarantee, no questions asked, however, I’m almost certain you’ll never need to use this guarantee.

Believe me, I’ve never been happier and healthier in all my life!