When the moment comes to explain to someone what IBD is, there is a second where I’m mentally debating between the ‘real’ answer and the ‘nice’ answer. The ‘real’ answer outlines, well, reality and what was happened to me, being gutted and all. The ‘nice’ answer is the ‘Oh, it’s not really a big deal, my bowels can be fussy sometimes’. Oh lies.
But how do you explain to someone the troublesome storm beating around in your abdomen when you look fine without causing them to tailspin into a reaction of pity?
And so when I was thinking about this the other day, it hit me – I’m like Superman. (Clarification: I wish I were, wouldn’t that be nice!) We’re all like the super-hero who is an ordinary kid, typically on a smaller side (think Tobey Maguire in Spiderman), and it’s only in the darkness or night when we become our true selves. Not the become-the-massive-green-hulk, but the idea is that we look normal, we are (mostly) normal, but there is something different about us. What I love about my metaphor is that unlike other things I’ve heard, this is a positive way to describe us. We have super-hero courage and strength and passion about awareness and advocacy, so how are we not super-heroes?
In high school, I was the girl who was sick. The girl with the NG who was once asked if I snorted an iPod shuffle (which, to this day, I am not sure how that’s anatomically plausible anyway), the girl who would vanish for long periods of time (aka in the hospital) and suddenly reappear (see, super-hero!), the girl who made it a habit to take ambulance rides from school to the local ER. When I came to college, I tried very hard to just be me – the person who is in love with Patrick Dempsey, likes to run, works in a preschool, and wants to get a PhD in Psychology. I am all of those things and the ‘super-hero’ part is my Crohn’s and my ostomy, things underneath my clothes and inside of me that don’t make me who I am but contribute to what my body is. You should never feel like you owe someone a confession of your diagnosis – because you’re not your IBD, you’re Sarah or Kate or Joey or Marcus.
And you’re a super-hero.