Thinking that it would pass, I decided that I would go ahead and sit through the lecture. But within a few minutes, I was left wishing I had never entered the room.
Shortly after the lecture began, my stomach started making strange, loud noises. Wind was pioneering up and down my stomach like a rollercoaster, but far more critically for me, people could actually hear it doing so. Somebody sniggered behind me. And from that moment on, all I registered was humiliation. I felt trapped, out of control and totally isolated. With each noise that my stomach made, I became more and more terrified. Eventually, when I felt I could cope no longer, I left the lecture room.
I always look back on the events of that Monday morning as being ironic. By running away from my fear, I in fact became imprisoned by it. I became obsessed with the possibility that my body could humiliate me like it did in that Monday morning lecture. What frightened me most was my lack of control. I shuddered at the thought that my stomach could make noises at any time, in any place, at any volume and for any duration!
I felt as if I could not trust my own body and that it was liable to 'betray' me at any moment. As this fear grew, I found attending lectures more and more difficult. Even when I did manage to get through lectures, I was so obsessed with my stomach that I failed to gain anything from them. Eventually my fear became unbearable, and in December 1994, I dropped out of University.
I have pinpointed my stomach noises because for some reason, they have been the major source of my distress; however, abdominal cramps, bloating, nausea and general fatigue have also played a part in my experience of IBS. When I look back on the events of 1994, what becomes most apparent to me is how much I had let IBS crowd me out.
That is literally what an illness like IBS does; the bigger 'it' becomes in your life, the smaller 'you' become. Suddenly, your needs and wants become irrelevant; you find yourself confined to what IBS will allow you to do, and where IBS will allow you to go. In my opinion, the real tragedy in IBS is not so much the symptoms themselves, but rather the social constraints they place on us as sufferers.
But how far are we prepared to let IBS go with our lives? How far are we willing to let IBS push us out of our own life picture? What price will we pay to avoid our fear of social embarrassment? The price I paid was depression, brought on by feelings of social isolation, powerlessness and an overwhelming sense of missed opportunity. I felt as if IBS was cheating me out of the life that I should rightly be leading. I felt resentful of other people's freedom, of the fact that they could feel so relaxed in situations where I was always so anxious. Only at the peak of my depression, did I realise that the price I was paying for avoiding my fear was simply too high.
Perhaps it sounds ridiculous that something as seemingly trivial as a noisy stomach should have such a severe effect on anyone's life. But as with most things in life, the real story lay beyond the surface. With the help of a university counsellor, it became clear that the underlying problem was not the noises themselves, but rather the state they put me in. The noises had negative implications for both the way I felt within myself and the way I felt in relation to other people. Not only did I feel out of control and resentful of my own body, I also felt ashamed, out of place and somehow inferior to other people.
The key to regaining control lay in realising that the noises and these negative feelings were separate, and that it was within my power to keep them that way. Getting to grips with IBS has been about learning to accept my body instead of resenting it. It has been about letting go of things that I cannot hold on to, and gaining control where it really matters. When it come to the crunch, if you can gain some kind of control over your reaction to your symptoms, then the symptoms themselves no longer have the same power over you.
Since returning to university in September 1995, I have found that the surest way to reduce stomach noises is to become indifferent to whether they occur or not. I find that the best way to develop this indifference is to repeatedly tell myself that "it's OK for my stomach to make noises, no matter the time or place."
By thinking, in the past, that it was not OK, what I was doing was taking responsibility for something that I had no control over, which does not make sense and, above all, is a waste of energy. If you really want to live fully in spite of IBS, you have to develop the kind of confidence that is boosted, not shattered by ignorant reactions. In other words, you have to learn to "respond intelligently, even to unintelligent treatment."
A tactic that I find really effective is mirroring. That is, whatever reaction I get from people, I mirror it back. For example, if someone stares, I stare back at them in exactly the same way; if someone laughs at my stomach, I laugh along with them. If I am not in the mood to 'mirror' I tend to phase out people's reactions completely (difficult but not impossible).
The main point is to stop holding yourself accountable for having IBS and instead, start recognising how strong you are to be coping with it day after day. Direct this strength towards facing your fears instead of running from them. The truth is that nothing can happen that will make you any less than anybody else, even if society makes you feel otherwise. So question every constriction that IBS is placing on your life; do not let IBS limit you anymore than is honestly and absolutely beyond your control.
Changing the way we relate to having IBS really is possible. The other day when I was in a lecture, I was struck by how much my perception of things had altered since dropping out over two years ago. As I looked around the lecture hall, instead of feeling vulnerable, and somehow less than the other students, I asked myself instead how many of them would have the nerve to face the kind of fear I had experienced, and from time to time was still experiencing? I find that whenever I think in this way, I immediately become more confident and any feelings of inferiority disappear. Always acknowledge your own courage; it is the difference between feeling inferior and feeling equal, which is what you are.
It is also important to be conscious of how you see yourself as an IBS sufferer. Many of us feel that we are socially unacceptable, which is giving the wrong message to ourselves as well as non-sufferers. IBS is said to affect at least one in ten people, yet one of the most common psychological complaints from sufferers is a feeling of isolation.
It may seem like a harsh statement, but for each sufferer, who through embarrassment or even shame isolates him/herself socially, he/she perpetuates the ignorance of non-sufferers thus reinforcing the 'unaccepting' conditions which face fellow sufferers. My point in saying this is not to place blame, but to highlight the importance of collective action. Social acceptability is something we must gain together. If we wait for non-sufferers to make us feel acceptable, my guess is that we will be waiting, at best, a very long time.
What is important is how we ourselves view our symptoms. The fact is, that many of us are ashamed to have IBS and would go to any lengths to conceal our condition. In so doing we mentally pre-condition our own acceptability, and validate the negative attitudes that we experience outside. I believe that if we were not so ashamed of our symptoms, we would be in a much better position to challenge rather than justify our unacceptability.
My first two years living with IBS were the most upsetting in my life, but it was during these years that I learnt an invaluable lesson: The more you run away from something, the more it stays with you and the bigger it gets. Now, even when I am feeling really anxious, I flatly refuse to miss a lecture or walk out in the middle of one. As far as I am concerned, the more anxious I am feeling about an impending situation, the more personal strength I can develop by getting through it. The point is not to treat anxiety like a red 'STOP!' light. Even when it seems overwhelming, I find that once faced, it never sustains this intensity for long.
One thing I know from experience is that anxiety does not evaporate overnight. Being confident on Monday does not mean you will feel confident on Tuesday. Even now, after facing my fears so many times, I am still not 100% comfortable with lectures and similar situations. But the point is, I am reacting to my fears differently, and although IBS-related anxiety remains a part of my life, it cannot hold me back in the way that it used to. For the most part, I feel that my present anxiety is simply a habit which I will eventually grow out of.
Living with IBS is no picnic, but I can honestly say that it has had a positive impact on my life. Before IBS, I was drifting along in a dissatisfied state, with little interest in my degree course and what it was leading to. But in order to come through my depression, I was forced to remedy this lack of direction. Ultimately, I am grateful to my experience of IBS for directing me towards psychology which has given my life the important sense of purpose that it was previously lacking.
IBS has also made me recognise that I was affected to an unhealthy extent by other people's opinions. Facing up to IBS has made me more independent mentally and has brought my self-respect to an all time high. I also feel that my experiences have made me more sensitive to other people's distress, which will among other things make me a better psychologist. Gradually, my focus in life is changing from expecting things to be a certain way, to accepting things and trying to make the most of them. Overall, I feel that IBS, ironically perhaps, has made me a stronger, more resourceful person.
I am very grateful to my family for their support, especially my mum for her constant understanding and belief in me. I also owe at lot to my counsellor Cheryl, for giving me the belief in change. Three books that I would like to recommend are Feel The Fear and Do It Anyway and End the Struggle and Dance With Life, both by Susan Jeffers, and Unlimited Power by Anthony Robbins.
A therapy that works wonders for me is music. As well as being a general mood lifter, I find that music is an especially effective antidote for anxiety. Personally, I would definitely recommend purchasing the The Rocky Story soundtrack. But whatever your taste, I can guarantee that good music leads to productive thoughts, and the more frequently you listen to it the better.
Finally, I would like to leave you with a quote that always snaps me into action, even when I am feeling really anxious:
"All men die, but not all men really live."
