354 Days Ago, My Stomach Betrayed Me. Yet, Thank You, IBS
Published: December 13, 2025 - 12 min read
The Song I Never Understood
Back in primary school, before every meal, we all chanted a song. Here are the first three lines:
Some have food, but cannot eat
Some can eat but have no food
We have food and we can eat...
Almost every time we chanted that song, I thought to myself: who has food and can't eat? Eventually, I settled on an answer. It's probably sick people, but it's just temporary because they lost their appetite.
Well, little did I know that at some point in my life, the line "we have food and we can eat" would become unrelatable to me.
The Breaking Point: December 25, 2024
I remember that day so well. It was the 25th of December, 2024. I woke up late because I had spent the night before feasting with friends to celebrate Christmas Eve. When I got up from bed, I felt this heaviness in my stomach. It was a weird feeling, one I had never experienced before.
I shrugged it off. I had spent the night before eating recklessly, so of course my stomach felt weird. It should be fine pretty soon.
354 days later, it's still not fine. I'd argue it's gotten worse.
That day was also the last time I had my favorite ice cream. I didn't know it at the time, but that chapter of my life had closed without warning.
The Search for Answers
I wasn't sure what was happening, so I started cycling through hypotheses.
- Maybe I'm now lactose intolerant?
- Perhaps I've developed intolerance to gluten?
- Maybe I need to eat more vegetables?
- Maybe I need to eat more fruits?
None of the above were accurate. I felt bad after almost every meal and found myself drinking all sorts of herbal teas and walking excessively just to feel some relief.
Then I spoke to my housemate around the end of February, and from her, I heard about the term FODMAP for the first time. Slowly, I went down a rabbit hole on the internet and found a community of people describing the same issues I was having.
As I put the pieces together, it finally made sense. I had IBS. IBS-C to be more specific.
My life was about to change forever.
The Dark Valley
I wish I could say that most of the days of this SDR Era were filled with excitement as I worked through the website. But no, many of them were filled with pain.
There were many moments of me pausing work, not because I was tired but because my stomach hurt so I needed to pace around to feel some relief. Many days of me arching my back, aka ruining my posture, because I wanted to sit in a position that felt comfortable for my stomach.
Do you know what it's like to wake up every morning with the mental load of "what am I going to eat?" being asked three times a day and never finding a good answer?
- Does this have enough fiber?
- Does this have too much fiber?
- Would this constipate me more?
- This felt good last time, but would it today?
- Should I take 8,000, 10,000, or 12,000 steps for maximum comfort?
- If I take 12,000 steps, I'll be exhausted and need more food for energy... but there's nothing safe to eat
- But if I don't take 12,000 steps, I'll be wriggling in pain at night
Many nights I find myself sitting in the dark, trying to hold back tears. How much longer do I have to live this way? How much more money do I need to spend on medications? What am I doing wrong?
I want to call my friends. I want to text them and let them know I'm in so much pain right now. But what can they do? They're probably tired of hearing me complain about the same thing over and over again. They can't offer me solutions. They've also seen me make bad decisions despite the pain, eating cookies and pastries despite knowing what awaits me. They don't say it, but they probably judge me. I judge me too.
I could call my parents and I know they'd listen. But then I'll worry them too much. So I lay in silence, sometimes using writing to help manage the pain by typing into the void, hoping that as the words flow from my brain to my hands and finally to the screen, my stomach might relax a little bit.
Sometimes I wonder if it's something worse than IBS. Like I have some cancer slowly eating at me and no one knows. And because no one knows, one day, I may go to bed and never wake up. But maybe I'm exaggerating. I hope I am. I still have so much I want to do for my family before I die.
I should have said more thank you's to my body when it functioned properly. Perhaps it would've never betrayed me in this manner if I did.
Now, before I fall asleep on the hard nights, I spend time thanking every other part of my body that still functions normally. I fear that if I don't do that, I may lose them too someday.
The Turn
So why am I thanking IBS despite all this?
Because buried within this year of suffering are gifts I never would have received otherwise.
The Six Gifts
Gift #1: The French Summer
IBS was the reason I decided to go all in on French over the summer. Frankly, that was the worst period. I had developed the habit of eating only when the pain of hunger became greater than the anticipated pain of eating something. That ended up with me being prescribed Pantoprazole, an ulcer medication, for a 90-day period. I've learned my lesson now.
I'm glad I spent my summer the way I did, but I know that would have never happened if I wasn't sick. When you're always in pain, being anywhere but at home is scary because you never know how bad it could get.
So I stayed home. And I learned French. And that summer shaped everything that came after.
Gift #2: Eating Without Screens (73 Days)
On the first of October, I decided to stop eating in front of screens and get comfortable with silence. I had watched so many health-related videos and read through many Reddit comments trying to find a way to heal myself. I did everything they suggested except a few things:
- Stop eating in front of screens
- Take walks daily without dopamine
- Try the carnivore diet
The carnivore diet? Who has the money to buy and eat only meat? So I got serious about the first two.
Just the act of eating without screens is something I never knew I would be able to do. I was basically addicted to using my phone while eating. Before my phone, it was books I was addicted to reading while eating. Now, in the past 74 days, I have only eaten in front of my screen maybe four times.
I would argue that this is probably the greatest achievement of this year. So for this, I say: thank you, IBS.
Gift #3: Walking Without Dopamine
I also started taking daily walks outside. I've had a walking pad for about a year and a half now, but it doesn't have the same effect as walking outside, especially without listening to anything through headphones. I keep my headphones on as they protect my ears from the cold, but that is what they have become now: ear muffs.
So yes, come rain, come snow, come sunshine, I have had to take long walks outside (60 to 100 minutes daily) since October for better relief in my stomach. The last time I walked outside was on the 11th of December. I got home feeling like I was going to fall sick because of how cold it had gotten, so maybe it's time for the outside walks to stop.
I'll have to make do with my walking pad and hope that it can provide close enough relief over the winter.
You see, in those daily walks is where most of this website was built. The most effective prompts I have written as well as my best ideas for blog posts, case studies and projects came in moments of silence when my feet were also in motion.
I remember so clearly the day I saw the French Writing Playground in my head. I also remember when I saw the Hall of Shame. They both came during daily walks.
Walking without dopamine is another effective thinking and focus tool I have come to appreciate. I would have never discovered it if not for IBS. So thank you, IBS.
Gift #4: Finding My Voice in Silence
I have IBS-C, and when the pain becomes excruciating, everything becomes noise. This includes even my favorite songs.
For a good portion of the first few months of this year, I couldn't do anything without having something playing in the background. A song, a video, a podcast. It was almost like I was running away from my own voice in my head, trying everything possible to drown her out.
But when the pain of IBS hits me really hard, it is hard to listen to anything. All I can do in moments like that is cry in silence, holding my stomach and hoping the pain goes away soon.
After being forced to sit through this silence multiple times a week, there was no more drowning out my own voice anymore. She slowly became louder and louder and I had to let her out through writing and creating.
She's still getting louder every day, pushing me out of my comfort zone.
Sitting in silence also became a practice I have learned to embrace even without the pain. So for this, I say: thank you, IBS.
Gift #5: Pleasure from Creation, Not Consumption
I also had to get comfortable with eating bland food. When the only spices or seasonings you are allowed to use are salt, ginger powder, turmeric, fennel seeds, and cinnamon powder to guarantee minimal pain (notice I didn't say no pain), you watch all the pleasures from food disappear from life.
Every time I attempt to spice things up by adding onion powder or garlic powder or pepper, I am immediately reminded why I should not be eating those by the pain that ensues.
But you know why I thank IBS regardless? It's because I was forced to no longer seek pleasures from food, but instead from what I create, whether through writing, video recording, or applications I have built.
So once again, thank you, IBS.
Gift #6: Awareness of Others' Invisible Struggles
Prisca from last year, before the 25th of December, believed that for the rest of her life, she would be able to eat whatever she wanted. She was also unaware that there are people who live through discomforts like this daily.
Now she is aware. And she wonders: how many more similar discomforts do others live through that she doesn't know about?
Being kind to people is much more important to me now. You really don't know what people are going through.
I've spent the past 50 days trying to solve problems. Then I think about this problem, the one that has plagued me for 354 days... and I still don't know how I can solve it. I have ideas every once in a while, but nothing is sustainable given that my body changes what food it likes weekly, sometimes daily.
I have had to throw out and give away tons of food. I have had to stick to cooking one meal at a time. In the past, I could cook and meal prep lunch for a month and know I'd be fine. Now, I eat a meal today and feel fine. Would I feel the same way tomorrow? No clue.
As I write, there are 9 servings of a very healthy dish that will be going to the garbage soon. Why? This was a very healthy meal that I thought was just going to be perfect. I had so much confidence that I cooked enough for 13 different servings, you know, just so I don't have to think about cooking for 13 lunches at least.
My body liked the meal the first two times. The third time, the pain was unbearable. I even had the courage to give the same meal a fourth chance, big mistake. Now a decision has been made: it is not worth the pain.
I really wish I knew how I could use the skills I have to solve this problem of mine. But I don't know. I really don't.
However, thank you IBS for making me aware of this struggle that many people happen to be living with. Maybe, just maybe, someday I'll create something that helps people with IBS, myself included.
Where I Am Now
I have spent a good chunk of this year, up until about two weeks ago, doing everything possible to get my body back to how it was before these issues started. I've been fighting this sickness with everything I've got, but nothing has worked.
Imagine trying multiple medications, multiple meal combinations, even getting comfortable with eating bland meals just for the sake of feeling some relief. Yet, over 300 days later, I can't name a single meal that consistently works for me.
Of course, I have had those weird days where I just ate whatever I wanted and somehow woke up the next morning with no pain. Days like this are very weird cause I start doing the analysis... what was different this time? How can I replicate this so that every day feels this way? Now, I have come to see days like that as glitches in the matrix. Every time I get too excited, I see soon enough that the glitch was only temporary. Pain is the new normal.
On these weird days that I wake up with no pain, I start off feeling really happy. Then I'd realize that I am only human and soon enough, I will be hungry again, then I'll have to eat, then the pain will come back.
About two weeks ago, I decided to stop caring. I've been fighting for so long and this is taking up too much mental space. There is a minimum level of pain I experience daily that I can tolerate. I am sitting through that pain now as I write. Now I only seek to keep the pain at this level by eating whatever I want (heavily prioritizing whole and healthy foods, of course) and then just walking.
Walking until my legs hurt.
Because that's the price I must pay to feel relief.
But it's fine. I've been doing it for 354 days now.
Maybe when I get the money to try the carnivore diet, that might work. It's the only diet I have seen people online, who described having situations similar to mine, claim actually works, although they usually mention that it returns after 5 to 10 years.
But imagine getting a 5-year relief from this daily hell. That would be lovely.
The Hope and The Prayer
Sometimes I wonder if I should just launch a research project to find the cure to IBS. But then I remember: they say the body does not forget what you do to it. Was it the many hours I spent standing while braiding hair, while being in school full time, while being active in the gym, and at the same time working a part-time job? I felt so alive doing all those things... tired at the end of the day, yes, but the good kind of tired.
I'm doing these things again. I'm working 8 to 12 hour days in a state where I'm so locked in with the work I do that there's nothing else I'd rather do. Yet I wonder: am I making the same mistake again?
I don't know.
What I do know is this: that childhood prayer makes sense to me now in a way it never did before.
Some have food, but cannot eat.
That's me now.
Yet someday, I hope IBS leaves me so that I can eat my favorite ice cream without the fear of the pain that awaits me at night.
Until then, I will keep walking. I will keep creating. I will keep thanking my body for what still works.
And I will keep saying: Thank you, IBS.
Not because I wanted this. But because of who it forced me to become.