the secret to life

Quick recap.

Saw GI. It's IBS. No LOL.

There's nothing funny about this. And I mean really, it's embarrassing enough as it is... couldn't they have called it something even a littlemore charming so that the millions of us didn't have to be extra-mortified? Something like - Acute Intestinal Paranoia (sounds more serious and possibly other-worldly), Curious Gastric Malfunctioning (certainly a more civilized conversation piece), or my personal favorite, What-The-Fuck-Is-Wrong-With-Me-And-Why-Am-I-So-Bloated-All-The-Time (because this at least feels a little more accurate - my bowel isn't just irritated, it's hating me).

I follow this news with yet another shift in diet; the ditching of too many raw foods, upping fiber, probiotics etc. and things are better at first. After less than a week though, it's all back.

I'm in a panic. I am so unhappy, so at a loss, soooo desperate. I am talking to a friend about my situation (read: therapist) and finally, after two years of bowel hell, all this yoga and living and loving and eating it clicks.

The Pause.

Yes my dear friends, the answer is, was, and always will be in the pause. In interrupting and creating space between the mindlessness and the mindless action. The answer is awareness. I don't need more willpower, or discipline, or juice, or exercise. I need to STOP. Before I put something in my mouth, send a nasty email, or let someone cut off all my hair - I must pause to see what is really lurking there.

I believe that AIP/CGM/IBS is really our bodies SCREAMING at us to pay attention. To listen. To please please please stop and see what we are really feeling, needing, wanting. And in this way, if we can learn to work with it, it is indeed an enormous gift. I'm about 75% better in a week. And I've eaten pizza, turkey sandwiches and dairy yogurt.

I can have whatever I want, provided it's what I really really really want.

To croissants, cheese, cherry pie and the space in between them...