What a Flare-up Really Feels Like…
Just over a week ago, I started experiencing symptoms for the first time in two years. These symptoms are very “if you know, you know.” But for those who don’t know, this is what happens.
Firstly, you start to notice that your gut is a little more irritated than usual, even though you’re eating usual things. Gradually, you begin needing the bathroom more frequently, and a little more urgently too. Then, you start experiencing weird cramps early hours of the morning. And before you know it, there are weird little things going on in the toilet bowl that make you question whether you had beetroot juice the night before.
And finally, the “fuck I’m in another flare-up” moment hits, and reality kicks in. Emotions flood through the gates and drown you with PTSD, fear, confusion, anger, but mostly sadness.
These emotions aren’t cute or subtle. Fear overwhelms your conscious mind into believing that you could be like this for months, or fear that the medications are not working anymore and you might have to remove your colon (coz shit is real). And while you’re crying because you can’t eat your favorite foods, you start to question if you’ve even found peace with the reality of your disease. And then of course there’s the moment of “I want to scream into a pillow until this all goes away” because, fuck, why can’t I just enjoy coloring outside the lines every now and then without the consequence of old mate Ulcers’ making his grand entrance back into my intestines.
Flare-ups don’t last a day. They can normally last weeks or even months. And within the blink of an eye, you’ve gone from eating big, colorful, crunchy salads or your favorite smoky black-bean burgers, to sipping on juice and broth (if you’re lucky). The freedoms of life are drained from existence, and your world becomes consumed in small wins. Like keeping your liquid lunch inside of you, or making it around the block for a walk without needing a toilet.
Leaving the house while flaring is like leaving your army base when the enemy is outside. If you leave, then you may get shot down with a bullet (the bullet being what could end up in your pants if you don’t make it to the bathroom in time). Sometimes you have no choice, so you pack an emergency bag of toilet paper, wet wipes, a clean pair of undies, and a chocolate bar (an excellent cover-up excuse). And once you’re out the door, all you’ve got is that bag. Even time works against you. Needing the bathroom every 30 mins? Good luck! Just sipped on broth and waiting for it to hit your digestive tract? Execution is key, my friends.
Flare-ups create weird conversations.
Me: “Oh sorry I can’t see you today, I’m having a flare-up.”
Person: “What’s a flare-up?”
Me: “___”
With ulcerative colitis, arse issues end up becoming the center of your world, but when you’re in a flare-up, they can become the only thing that exists in your world.
As a lady, I have been groomed by society into feeling awkward about arse issues, and honestly, it has worked. I sometimes feel a slight hint of shame or embarrassment when people actually do find out what "a flare-up” really is. Even though I’ve done self-work to shamelessly live my own reality, rewiring the way I’ve been socially programmed for 33 years can and will take time.
You’ve probably recognized that I have yet explained what a flare-up physically feels like and to be truthfully fair, I sometimes wonder if mental is worse than the physical. The physical pain is, however, no walk in a park.
Medicinal weed is the only thing that manages the burning aches somewhere deep in my intestines. Sometimes these pains will hit when you least expect them. At 3 am? No worries. While you’re in the supermarket line? No worries. While stuck in traffic? Also, no worries. Then generally about 3.5 seconds later, you’ll know if it’s just passing gas, or you better find a fucking bathroom fast. And these feelings aren’t just like an “I need to poo” cramp. They’re a “hey I think I might push a baby out of my arsehole” cramp. One person said to me, “it’s like the stomach flu and then someone’s kicked you in the guts.” Another said, “Yeah if you add the sprays of blood.”
A flare-up does have a silver lining, however. It reminds me of how good life really is when I’m not in a flare-up.
When I’m healthy, I start thinking about all of the things that I want, rather than what I have. I become complacent and lazy, delaying creative ventures knowing I can do it whenever I want. I also take my body a little for granted, selfishly sacrificing its needs (we’re only human after all). And when I’m unwell, I’d feel happy to just be eating again, seeing my favorite people, feeling strong enough to exercise. It’s crazy that two very polarizing perspectives can transpire within a matter of weeks.
So, although a painful reminder, a flare-up is my body communicating that it is time to slow down and reset. It’s time to meditate, give gratitude, remind myself to do more of what I love when my body is healthy, and most of all, it’s a time to honor my body and all that it needs to feel nurtured and loved so I can return to a point of homeostasis.