Yeah. I said it. Enemas.It’s okay if your disgusted by the mention of the word, or the process. I was too. But in that full brown paper bag lies my months supply of hope. Hope for remission. Hope for something that works. I have 26 days for these little suckers to do their job before we move on to the big biological drugs. So let me hear you say it.. Enema’s for the win!

I started reading the book May Cause Miracles by Gabrielle Bernstein this morning. For those of you who haven’t heard of or read it, it is a 40 day journey to basically change your mindset and stop being set back by all your fears and instead choosing love and happiness. I’m a sucker for reflection and challenging myself to gain new perspective and I thought a book with that kind of title was pretty much calling my name. Day one was all about being conscious of when fear wins throughout your daily interactions and seeing when fear was chosen over love. Just observing.

Among other things, I was a little surprised by how scared I am of what people think. But looking back, and even in my current situation, my fears about others thoughts controls a lot of my life. And this blog is a huge step against that fear.

I’ll be honest. I was hesitant to post about enemas. It’s not really something that the general population wants to hear about. It might now be something that even my family or friends want to hear about.   But I’m not writing this blog for the general population. And I’m not necessarily writing it for my family or friends. When I first came up with the idea for it and started brainstorming, I began to worry about what people who are closer to me might think. Would they be repulsed, think I complain too much, would they be supportive? Would I be ashamed to put out the details of what I’m going through? The bowels of my thoughts? I’ve ruined dinners before when talking about my new normal, times where I thought the floor would melt away from how hot my face felt from embarrassment for giving a true answer to a question someone really didn’t want an answer to. I never want to see the look on that persons face again. I felt like a monster.

I talked with one of my friends that is also strong enough to kick her own ass (autoimmune disease joke). She has lupus and has been dealing with side effects of medications and flare ups for the past few years, but always kept her sense of humor. We discussed how hard it is to be judged and hurt by people you think would understand. She said screw those people. This is the way your life is now and not everyone is going to get that. It’s up to you now to accept them for who they are, even if they can’t understand you.

So, it’s OK if you’re grossed out about my colonoscopy, or blood, or when I make a weird face and wince because my insides are cramping up in indescribable pain.  It’s okay if you think going gluten-free and soy free is stupid.If enemas give you an “I just ate a lemon” face.  It’s okay if you don’t like what I’m writing. I understand. I’m not mad at you for it.  This just isn’t for you.

I’m writing it for people who are down in the dirty, disgusting, embarrassing and downright scary parts of life and are looking for a little something to pull them a couple of inches further away from sinking into the mucky darkness. Like me. Like my friend with lupus. Like anyone with a chronic illness. Or anyone else who finds themselves in a drab situation.

So, I’m going to continue laying on my left side for 30 minutes twice a day I’m supposed to, and hoping on enemas.