Be More :: A Guest Post by Keaghan

I lost 20 pounds this year.

Most people would be glad to type that, rejoicing in reaching some New Years’ goal.

I never intended to lose 20 pounds. I didn’t need to lose 20 pounds. I didn’t need to lose any weight.

Especially not in the space of three months.

Especially not because there were days when my stomach was so nauseated that the thought of eating was unbearable.

Especially not because there were days when all I wanted to do was sleep until it all felt better.

Especially not because there were days I was so tired and weary that I had no focus or energy.

To look at me, you’d never know I was sick.

People assume that I look young and healthy, so I must be.

But the illness that edges my days, that keeps me on a six-hour schedule for my medication, that prompts me to carry fast-acting anti-nausea pills in my pocket, that causes me to bring water with me everywhere I go in case I have to take something, that keeps protein bars in my purse because if I get too hungry I’ll be nauseated, that limits my diet, is an invisible one.

My name is Keaghan. I’m 18, a college freshman…

And I have IBS.

My story is a shorter one. About a year ago, I started having symptoms that seemed like acid reflux. They transitioned and became an unsettled stomach. After trying several acid reflux medications, my doctor sent me to have a scope done of my esophagus and stomach, including the placement of a temporary PH probe in my esophagus. The test found nothing—and the probe caused me to have esophageal spasms every time I swallowed (imagine your entire throat cramping up suddenly) for almost a week.

After that, we moved to IBS medication. Unfortunately, they only seemed to make the issue worse. I had two different tests done to check for gallbladder problems. As a last resort, my doctor tried a new IBS medication and told me to go gluten-free.

At this point, I was desperate. The issue had dragged out for three months and I was so tired. I agreed to try it, and immediately called on my gluten-free friends to help me with the massive learning curve.

Little did I know just how much the GF diet would mean. No bread, no pasta, of course. But certain dressings and chips? No cream-of-anything soups? No seasoning blends? Gluten was in everything, it seemed.

I am pleased to say, that after nine months of eating gluten-free, I feel so much better and am able to live a normal life once more—something I had almost lost the ability to do.

So what do I have to say to my fellow teens who suffer from chronic disease?

I know how you feel. It seems so trite, but I know how much it helps to hear someone say that. I know how it feels to open your eyes in the morning, uncertain of whether your body will betray you that day. To want to just roll over and let life pass by, because getting up and admitting defeat again is just too much to handle.

You aren’t alone.

It’s so easy to slip into depression with chronic illness. IBS especially. It’s invisible and private, and there are no external symptoms. You know you feel terrible, but unless you tell them, no one else does.

Don’t be afraid to open up. Yes, it’s tough and awkward and weird, but trust me. It’s so much easier to bear when others are on your side. And it’s so much easier for them to be on your side when they know your struggle.

Just. Keep. Going. It may not get easier, but you’ll find a way to cope.

Find things that keep the joy in your life. Whether it’s music, writing, books, sports, friends. Whatever you can still do that will keep a smile in your heart, do it. Even on the rough days—sometimes the best way to ignore how bad you feel is to get up and do something else.

Find a safe place with safe people where you can let the mask slip. You can’t always be strong. You can’t always pretend that it’s all okay and you feel fine. Find that one friend—or two, or three—that will be there for you through thick and thin. Open up. Tell them how bad you feel. Let them ask questions. Let them care for you. Let them pray for you, offer you comfort, and accept the kindness. I know it’s easy to want to just cut yourself off from the world, but that won’t help. It will only make you lonelier and more miserable.

People often assume that these invisible illnesses are easy to deal with. I have never been hospitalized for my condition, I am completely capable of living a normal life. My only external clues are the medication I carry. It seems easy to dismiss it as not important, it seems easy to say it’s not a big deal.

But it is.

I don’t know what your burden is, I don’t know what struggle you carry.

But I know mine.

And I know how hard it is to carry some days.

So I can imagine what yours is like. I can imagine how lonely and difficult it is.

But you know what?

There are moments of light.

There are those quiet moments of happiness that still appear, even in the darkest times.

And if you keep going…it will get brighter.

Don’t give up. I’ve walked the road and I’m walking it still.

Chin up. Don’t let the illness no one else sees define who you are and what you can do.

Be more than a diagnosis, a label, a restriction.

Be all that God created you to be.

Be amazing.

_______________

Keaghan is a writer, a freshman at Patrick Henry College, a sister, daughter, friend, and Daughter of the King. She writes (far less often than she would like) at Whisper Above the Thunder (www.whisperabovethethunder.blogspot.com). She's been termed a hopeless romantic and a nerd…she proudly claims both titles. When she isn't writing, she enjoys spending time with friends, cooking, listening to good music, watching Sherlock and Doctor Who, and drinking the occasional latte.