I had a good cry, some dry heaving (after a dinner where I threw caution to the wind, in my efforts to be a social animal), and wised up. So I post it here, where no one will probably see it. But it's out there, in the ether, and that's something. Because besides the pain, nausea, and physical ailments, the psychological strain and loneliness from this is the worst. But hey, at least it's not cancer, right:
"Feeling like crap 75% of the time will put you in a bad mood, make you depressed. I feel like I'm constantly trying to explain and yet understanding is never found. I feel whiny and insufferable, like a goddamn teenager, and I hate it. I wish a stomach disorder on NO ONE, but I wish to god everyone knew what it feels like. I am always, AL-WAYS, thinking about food, when to eat, what to eat, how much. Everything is planned. So much joy surrounding the breaking of bread, a social endeavor, is virtually gone. Much more than just a "food coma", thank you. I feel weak, and so tired.
Fucking hell, I should probably join a support group."
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