It's not all about the bass - feeling comfortable in your skin.

By Maalvika Bhuvansunder

Ahh, the ever classic “All about that bass”, the so-called “revolutionary” song which was meant to show body positivity. One question though: How is it body positivity if you are putting down other body types? Body shaming is something I have endured constantly. Growing up, I was an extremely plump and chubby kid. Every vacation used to be a nightmare with relatives constantly telling me to eat less and become slim. To a preteen! That's where the root of my low self-esteem began. I was told by people that I wouldn't have friends if I don’t reduce weight. So growing up, when I did not understand the lyrics, it's all about that bass… by Meghan Trainor was a revolutionary song for me. It made me, and I’m sure a lot of other girls like me, feel amazing about our bodies. But what about the others?!

I was told by people that I wouldn't have friends if I don’t reduce weight.

A few months before I got my diagnosis, I started losing a lot of weight. Each month I would have lost around 2-3 kgs. Very soon, the chubby girl became the skinny one. It was very confusing for me and my parents as to why I was losing all this weight. Post the diagnosis, at least we knew the reason. It was very new and weird for me to look this thin and I knew this was not a healthy weight loss, but I did not have any control over it. Keeping down food got difficult, and I developed this fear of eating as it was associated with pain. What added to this were the comments of other people.

There was one group that cheered this weight loss, glorifying it without knowing the pain I was in. Then, there were the others that made me feel ashamed of being so skinny. The constant, why don't you eat, are you trying to diet, you looking this skinny is UGLY got too much. I refused to step out of my house because of this constant judgement. Random strangers used to advise me on how to gain weight and that being this skinny is not good. Strangers did not know the cause of my weight loss, but when the family and friends that did know about it made such comments, it hurt the most. The constant comparison with others in my family to casually making “jokes” and trying to funny about my weight was horrible for me. It was impossible for me to gain any weight, and it was not like I did not know that I was dangerously underweight. But “Eat up!” was not the solution, and food was the main pain-causing component for me at that time.

If you are healthy and feel great, then who cares what shape and size your body is? People are going to comment either way.

Post-surgery, now that I am able to slowly gain weight, this fear is always still there of what if I go back to my preteen body type. On the other side, the fear of relapse in weight gain is also there. I’m sure a lot of individuals with IBD would experience body dysphoria, the feeling of not belonging in your skin, and hating the way you looked in the mirror. That was me for most of my life. This experience made me realize that what truly matters is feeling healthy. If you are healthy and feel great, then who cares what shape and size your body is? People are going to comment either way. What truly matters is your health. To this date, I am not fully comfortable in my skin, but I am making baby-step progress towards it.

To Anyone Who’s Been Called a “Difficult Patient”

By Carina Diaz (Texas, U.S.A.)

My experience with getting a diagnosis and how it still affects me today.

This summer will be my ten year anniversary of having Crohn’s Disease, and throughout the years, I’ve been told the same phrase over and over again by many doctors: “You’re a difficult patient.” 

Hearing this since the age of 18 has been hard on my mental health. I’ve internalized those words and blamed myself for the state of my body. I thought that my symptoms being out of control was because I ate something that I should’ve have (I can’t resist pasta or cheese), I was thinking too negatively, or maybe it was just karma for something I did wrong. But none of that is true.

This is for anyone who has also been told that they’re a hard case, a real head scratcher if you will, as my ostomy nurse tells me. I’m going to tell you the words I wish someone would’ve told me: It’s not your fault. You did nothing to deserve this. You aren’t being punished (although it can definitely feels that way at times). 

I used to always look for a reason for why I was going through this. Maybe by having an explanation, I would feel better about my situation. I wanted something to blame. I wanted to be able to direct my anger towards something more tangible. I was craving to have some level of peace or stability. Getting diagnosed felt like my world was ending.

I was having abnormal symptoms for just a few months. I had to go to the bathroom frequently and having a bowel movement was very painful. I would try to avoid food as much as possible, because food meant having to poop and pooping meant pain. When my mom confronted me about skipping dinner and learned about what I was going through, she took me to my primary care doctor, which led to getting a referral for a gastroenterologist. I thought I would be told what was wrong with me, given medicine to treat it, and that everything would fine once again. That had always been my experience with doctors. I had always gotten answers and something to help. I didn’t know that there were things that doctors couldn’t fix or at the very least, have answers for. Getting a diagnosis meant I could no longer ignore how my body was feeling.

I didn’t know what was realistic for me to want out of life anymore. Would I be able to travel, have kids, or even live on my own? My doctor didn’t seem to take my age into account when he told me the results of my colonoscopy and endoscopy. I was finishing high school and getting ready to begin college. I was overwhelmed with the possibility of not being able to keep up with my peers, of not being normal. 

Hearing this since the age of 18 has been hard on my mental health. I’ve internalized those words and blamed myself for the state of my body.

The language that doctors use, whether or not it’s intentional, often puts the blame on the patient. “I don’t know what to do with you.” “You’ve failed this medication.” “I’m referring you to someone else. I can’t help you.” This has been so harmful to my mental health. It made me think I had done this to myself. At the end of every day, my mind would race through all the possible factors: I wasn’t managing my stress levels, I ate something that I shouldn’t have, I didn’t check the ingredients in what I ate thoroughly enough, I wasn’t taking the right supplements, or I needed to try another diet. For years, I picked apart my thoughts and actions. I dealt with a lot of toxic positivity from family. As well meaning as it may have been, it just fed into blaming myself. 

If you can relate to my experience or have been through it yourself, I hope you’ve been able to find comfort and support in community. It’s what organizations like CCYAN are here for. You’re not alone, you’re not to blame, and there are people out there who understand what you’re going through. I hope that knowing you aren’t alone brings you a bit of comfort. 

Body Neutrality > Body Positivity

By Carina Diaz (Texas, U.S.A.)

My body has been through many shapes and sizes since the diagnosis of my Crohn’s disease in 2012. The combination of medications and inflammation has altered my weight, the shape of my face (thanks Prednisone), and effected my ability to exercise. After many years of weight fluctuations, I now see three people within myself: the person I picture in my mind, the one I see in the mirror, and the one I see in photos. 

Halfway through 2017, I came back home from a four month internship in Florida in very bad shape. I had lost a lot of weight, had little appetite, was under constant fatigue, and went to the bathroom almost 20 times a day. I didn’t deal with many IBD symptoms in college outside of bloating and cramps, so this was new territory for me. I was bed bound for several years and shrunk down to skin and bone. I avoided my reflection every time I went to the bathroom. I felt like a shell of a person. My body felt like an itchy, uncomfortable sweater that I couldn’t take off. 

“I still have days where I’m mad at my body, but being able to take a step back and shift my thoughts away from the frustration has brought back some peace.”

As my health slowly began to improve and my mind became more clear, I noticed how often my thoughts centered around the way I looked. I felt detached from my body and even more so after getting ileostomy surgery in May of 2021. I’ve had to relearn my body over and over again because of the constant changes IBD has put it through. It’s very easy to feel disconnected from your body when you have IBD. I’ve often felt that my body and I are two different entities at war with each other, and neither side wants to wave the white flag. 

There’s so much content online about self-love and loving your body. “Start the day by looking in the mirror and say three things you like about yourself out loud.” “Love the skin you’re in.” “You’re beautiful just the way you are.” I’ve found that it’s not possible to feel good about yourself everyday. Our bodies change, even for people without health conditions. We’re constantly shown images of what we should aspire to look like and the products to buy to help us attain it. 

A concept that has helped me reframe my thoughts around body image is body neutrality. It encourages you to accept your body for what it is and puts more emphasis on what you’re capable of instead of what you look like. To me, this means to meet my body in the day I’m in. For example, on days when I have low energy, I’m going to take care of myself by working from my bed, ordering takeout, having snacks and water within reach, and not worrying about the state of my apartment. I’m not going to expect myself to cook, clean, and run errands on a day that I’m not feeling well.

I know that this might not be a helpful concept to everyone, but it is a practice that has helped my mental health and self image. I still have days where I’m mad at my body, but being able to take a step back and shift my thoughts away from the frustration has brought back some peace. Instead of viewing IBD as a punishment from my body, I’m trying to remind myself that my body is going through this with me. Neither of us are to blame; it’s just our reality. We’re both doing the best we can.

Storytelling for self-growth

By Fasika Teferra, M.D. (Ethiopia)

Have you ever wondered why someone shares their stories with strangers? Regardless of the outlets people use to tell their stories, we see storytelling get used as a catalyst for change. It is a tool that most change makers are using today; that was my initial motivation to start telling my story, until I learned the true potential of storytelling. I was just beginning my fourth year of medical school. With the stress of the upcoming qualifying exam and family moving away for work, I thought the abdominal pain I had started to experience was just anxiety. Although I am fully aware of Crohn’s Disease and its symptoms, I tried to get quick solutions to resolve the symptoms.

“Regardless of the outlets people use to tell their stories, we see storytelling get used as a catalyst for change.”

From a young age, I was told to pull myself together and not show vulnerability, which was why I suffered for eight months before getting my diagnosis. I knew what the disease was, the medications I needed to take, and that it was a chronic illness with no cure. But accepting that was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. A lot of factors played in truly accepting my diagnosis and make the decision to be more knowledgable as an IBD patient, but the major one was reading stories of other IBD patients. It opened up my mind to the possibility that I could lead a normal life. That was why I started to share my story, to be an inspiration to others.

“From a young age, I was told to pull myself together and not show vulnerability, which was why I suffered for eight months before getting my diagnosis.”

Living in Ethiopia, where most doctors state that IBD is rare, I knew I needed to speak up. I needed patients to know that they are not alone and I needed to communicate with my medical community that it is not so rare. I am glad I decided to be open about telling what I went through and how I am coping with IBD and it is not for the reasons you think. Sure, I am grateful to be able to make a change; I am happy my story is inspirational to other Ethiopians and non-Ethiopians alike. However, I am so thankful for what storytelling did for me.

“Through storytelling, I learned acceptance.”

I was not in remission when I started nor did I had a clue about managing IBD as a patient. I started only 2 years into my diagnosis and did not fully accept my diagnosis at the time. Through storytelling, I learned acceptance. As I shared my story more and more, it made me want to learn more about how to manage my condition. It also helped me step back and see how far I have come because telling my story means going back from the beginning and share the how, the why, the what of each and every detail. If there is one thing I want you to takeaway from this, it is that it doesn’t matter how much you know about something, speaking about your experience is not just so others can learn from you, it is a tool to aid in self-growth and reflection. Storytelling did not change my Crohn’s Disease diagnosis or all the hardship I faced, but the story helped me, the teller, transform and grow.

Disability Makes Me Feel Colorful

When I was first diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, I remember hating myself. For so long, I was so angry at the world. I was angry because I couldn’t run anymore. I was angry because I was in pain. I was angry because I felt like I wasn’t capable of anything. 

The stigma of disability is often composed of beliefs that people with disabilities are too sick to do anything, are not capable, and weak. 

Years later I realized the only reason I hated myself and hated my disability was because society made me believe that having a disability was the worst thing that could have ever happened to me. 

People would frequently tell me things like I should reconsider what I wanted to do with my life because of how my illness would impact me. I have been told that it was surprising I could even do what I have done in my life. I have been told that I would be in pain forever.

I have had doctors not believe in me. I have been blamed for my illness. I have been shamed for my weight, for not eating enough, for not trying hard enough, for being too tired, for eating too much “fast food” and an endless stream of hateful and hurtful words.

Sometimes even members of my own family would shame me and suggest I caused my own illness. I think that hurt the most. 

But they could not have been any more wrong. 

Living with a disability allowed me to see my black and white world in color for the very first time. 

My disability gave me inspiration for my future career. It allowed me to realize what my true passions and dreams were. It allowed me to appreciate the smallest, tiniest things that no non-disabled person would ever be able to notice. It opened up the door for new hobbies. It empowered me to focus on my mental health. More than anything, it gave me a second chance at life. 

I live for myself now.

I started painting which is weird because I used to only be able to draw little doodles on the bottom of my notebooks. 

I do yoga when before I would over-exercise and tire out my body. 

I found out about Trader Joe’s vegan chocolate chip oatmeal cookies with coconut (only after the very serious hunt to find snacks that were IBD friendly for me).

The air tastes better. Songs are not even songs anymore; they are seven different melodies and sounds happening at the same time and I can appreciate every bit of it. Every time I take a step without pain, it makes me feel like I am walking on clouds. The sun feels warmer.

I feel colorful. 

Personally, my disability was the best thing that could have ever happened to me. It is difficult. It is painful. It is exhausting. 

But it does not make me weaker than anybody else, less capable than anybody else, and I do the same things anybody else does, and I do it while I’m sick too. 

This article is sponsored by Lyfebulb.

Lyfebulb is a patient empowerment platform, which centers around improving the lives of those impacted by chronic disease.

What I Wish My Newly-Diagnosed Self Knew

Sitting in the patient chair, hearing your doctor say “you have Inflammatory Bowel Disease” can be terrifying and change your life in a matter of seconds. These words come with both a massive feeling of relief and validation, knowing that your symptoms are not just in your head and that you will finally receive the help you deserve. But, along with this relief, comes terrifying thoughts, too many google searches, and the realization that you will have this diagnosis for the rest of your life. Feelings such as anxiety, fear, and loneliness follow with no sense of direction. When looking back at my newly diagnosed self, I wish I could hug her and tell her everything I know now.

It‘s not your fault 

The guilt that comes with a new diagnosis is unexplainable. My mind wandered, time and time again, over what I might have done to cause my diagnosis. Was it loving toaster strudels as a kid and eating a few too many? Was I too stressed at my internship? Was it previous medications that disrupted the microbiome in my gut? The truth is, you can let your mind wander for as long as it wants, but you are NOT the reason behind your illness and you are NOT at fault. Many people, including myself, strongly believe and are determined that everything has a purpose and that everything happens for a reason. Although some may argue this belief, obsessing over what may have caused your diagnosis and blaming yourself will do nothing but harm. Inflammatory bowel disease is not the result of a bad decision or bad karma, and something that is most important to understand is that you are not to blame. Once you come to peace with your diagnosis and become confident in the unknown, you will begin to heal in ways you never have before. 

The importance of your healthcare team 

As a young adult diagnosed with Crohn’s disease, I was scared, lonely and afraid. After years of fighting for a doctor to take me seriously, I felt unworthy of receiving proper treatment and advocating for myself to my healthcare team. With help from a handful of individuals, I slowly realized that I should be looked after by healthcare professionals that listen, support, and are trustworthy. Not only does this apply to gastroenterologists, but also to other medical professionals that make up your healthcare team. If your gastroenterologist does not support you and undermines your symptoms, shop around for a new gastroenterologist that makes you feel comfortable, heard and safe. Additionally, a gastroenterologist is not the only medical professional that should be on your team. If you are able, reach out to a dietician, nutritionist, or naturopath certified in food nutrition to receive guidance on diet, food choices, vitamins, and supplements to support your health. Lastly, do not be afraid to seek out help for your mental health. The stress that comes with a new diagnosis can be extremely heavy, and for some, stress can aggravate GI symptoms and flares. The best decision I made was seeing a therapist to help me through my past traumas and transition into entering society post-diagnosis while dealing with debilitating symptoms. A wide range of healthcare professionals will allow you to thrive and succeed in ways you didn't even know were possible. Here in Canada, dieticians, nutritionists, naturopaths, and therapists are not covered by OHIP. If you do have insurance, these types of professionals are usually covered. If you are not able to cover the costs for these additional healthcare professionals, reach out to your GI to see if there are any subsidized or low-cost options available to you. Also, many universities and colleges offer free or low-cost therapists and nutrition counselling. 

Find your support group 

An Inflammatory Bowel Disease diagnosis is scary and may leave you feeling as if you need to be independent through this journey as you don’t want to burden others. Putting up a wall and pretending like you are fine is something I did more times than I should have after my diagnosis. I had such a hard time being vulnerable and admitting I was not ok. With that being said, the best thing I could have done was confide in a few trusted friends and family members. Opening up to my loved ones allowed me to feel more comfortable asking for help when it was needed and having a safe space to vent. Opening up to my support system allowed me to express my fears and challenges, gave me the opportunity to have someone join me at healthcare appointments and to also receive help when I was flaring. 

If you are located in Canada, Crohn’s and Colitis Canada not only offers regional support groups where you can meet fellow peers with IBD, but they also offer a mentorship program where you have the opportunity to be mentored by someone who is experienced in navigating the hardships of IBD. Additionally, reach out to your schools accessibility centre to find out if there are any IBD groups with individuals around your age to network with. Lastly, joining Facebook or Instagram pages that connect others with IBD is a great way to speak to people who understand what you are going through.

Grief    

As a newly diagnosed young adult, the negative feelings and thoughts of living with a chronic disease for the rest of your life can be endless. Dealing with healthcare appointments and debilitating symptoms that not many other young adults experience can leave you feeling defeated and hopeless. Something important that I have learned throughout my journey is that it’s important to sit in those feelings and take the time you need to process them. Take time to grieve your old life and the life you pictured for yourself, but also remember everything positive that this diagnosis will give you. You will be stronger, resilient, and more empathetic to those around you. You will view the world in such a way that you never have before, and you will become more intuitive with your body and mind through this journey. If your feelings of grief become overwhelming, reach out to a trusted friend, family member or a mental health professional. Although my diagnosis has been challenging to say the least, I promise you there are things my diagnosis has given me that I am beyond grateful for and I wish I was reassured of when I was newly diagnosed. 

To the newly diagnosed IBD warriors, you are amazing, resilient and strong. An unpredictable and serious diagnosis such as IBD will be challenging and difficult, but you are not alone and you never will be.

The Pathway to Body Acceptance as a Chronically Ill Person

By Amy Weider

When I was in fourth grade, I was going through the symptoms of my upcoming Crohn’s diagnosis. I was young and did not understand or have the language to explain the pain my body was feeling. While Crohn’s and IBD are invisible illnesses, i.e. one does not look “sick” to a normal passer byer, my constant puking and diarrhea made me lose a significant amount of weight. As a 4th grader this was a bit alarming to my folks, but the general reaction made by my peers and adults around me was to comment on my weight loss and uplift me for it. “You look so much better now” I remember this statement so vividly from a boy in my fourth grade class. “It’s super cool that you finally decided to lose some weight,” someone said to my ten year old body. I was ecstatic to hear this. When you are growing up Femme in a world that encourages you to hate your body and only allows you to idolize those who occupy an able body that wears a size two, it is fitting that this weight loss seemed like a success to me as opposed to a signal that I was chronically ill. I could not differentiate between healthy and skinny, they meant the same to me.

“I could not differentiate between healthy and skinny, they meant the same to me.”

I internalized so many of these comments and the general societal note that any extra amount of weight made me less than. When I was put on prednisone it induced me to gain all the weight back plus more and get “moon face” as well as stunt my growth. As a formally skinny person, I was embarrassed to have this body and it forced me to endure much body dysmorphia because of the quick changes. My mind didn't understand how this was supposedly a healthier version of myself.

When I think back to this time in my life I want to give my ten year old self a big hug. Healing with the body that I inhabit is treating it with the love and respect that I so desperately needed when I was actively a sick young person. My body size continues to change today even in remission. Body dysmorphia and trauma still occupy much of my life. When I was a size two I remember constantly thinking I was fat, now a size ten I do all I can to waste no more days worrying about my size. Acknowledging sizeism and fatphobia allows me to deconstruct and actively tear down these underlooked systems of oppression that taught me to hate myself and other bodies. Today, I know that my body does not even have to be healthy, skinny or pretty for me to love it. I love the way my body takes up space. I accept that my body is sick while simultaneously being an amazing vessel that holds all my thoughts and dreams. Learning radical self love was revolutionary for me and so many others.

“Today, I know that my body does not even have to be healthy, skinny or pretty for me to love it. I love the way my body takes up space.”

People gain and lose weight for SO MANY different reasons, folks with chronic illnesses deal with a fluctuation of weight due to their medicine, hospital visits or general “sick” stress. Even deeper, any kind of body trauma can induce weight loss or gain. Sure, if you are blindly assuming someone is unhealthy because of their weight, it allows you to think very highly of yourself but when we comment on one specific part of the body not the whole person, their whole experience and all the symptoms, your comments are worthless. In general, commenting on other folks’ bodies is a baseless way to assert a dominance on others.

All bodies deserve love! The body positive movement is currently challenging the notion that one specific body is healthy and beautiful and all the other ones must conform. Folks like LIZZO, Megan Jayne Crabbe (@bodyposipanda), Iskra Lawrence, Sonya Renee Taylor (The Body Is Not An Apology) are pushing back everyday by freely and openly loving themselves as a political agenda and are encouraging others to do so as well. Folks with chronic illnesses and disabilities are at the center of this movement and are helping bring nuance and love to it.

Love Yourself and Love Others: How I Started Recognizing the Support Within and Around Me

By Erin Ard

In honor of the month of #Love, I decided to write about one of the most important forms. #SelfLove!

Embrace every part of you. Your quirkiness, your sense of humor, your shyness, your health (and that sometimes, you CAN take a good picture).

You've probably heard the phrase "You can't love anyone else until you love yourself." It's said, with good intent, to almost everyone who is trying to find self-worth in another person's eyes. I am no expert on love, so I can't say this is always true. However, I do know that dealing with chronic disease, especially throughout your teen years, can wreck your self-esteem and ability to love yourself. *Ahem* speaking from experience.

I want to share how I learned to accept the terms of my new life, let go of internalized negativity, and love myself as I am. It took me years to recover emotionally from all the changes I faced because I never fully accepted that I had a #ChronicDisease.

I started to take strides in college when I began thinking mindfully about my experiences, emotions, and actions in every situation I faced. Introspection was my first step towards acceptance and being #mindful was my strategy.

I used mindful meditation to reflect on everything in my past and present. I became aware of my thoughts, emotions, surroundings, and accepted them without judgement. It helped relieve my stress as a busy student and appreciate everything around me while living moment to moment. Before mindfulness, I would often dwell on my flaws and insecurities, to the point that I had lost sight of my worth. Now, whenever my mind wanders or spirals, I accept my thoughts, bring light to them, and move on. The simple act of being mindful restored my self-confidence and helped me find my identity outside of my chronic health issues.

A little surprise from my sweet, forever valentine.

As I sit, writing in my old bedroom from high school, I'm starting to reflect on all the love I had even at my lowest. I now recognize the love I lacked for myself and the support that surrounded me from family and friends. My closest friends and family understood me and how the disease affected me. Because of them, I was able to overcome many trying events.

This month, my #mantra has been to love yourself and love others. I've learned that you're never really alone, even when you think you are. There is always someone thinking about you, worrying about you, or just wondering how you are. You will be surprised by the influence you can have on others. As a cute example, take a look at what my little brother made for Valentine's Day!

Remember to appreciate your own strength and the people who continue to support you.

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If you want to learn more about the influence of mindful practice, check out this article on the stages of grief in chronic disease.

With love,

Erin