I think my brain is a trigger food

Much to my delight, my stomach went wonky again this morning.

Over the past 4 years or so, I have endured an extensive list of tests, from the dreaded barium sundae, to the slightly more innocuous blood test. I've kept detailed lists of 'trigger foods' (at one time it seemed that raisins and bananas were the culprits), I've cut out caffeine, I've avoided dairy and wheat. I've taken pills that did little more than simultaneously ease my mind and empty my bank account.

We don't know what's wrong with me, and in cases like this, what's a girl to do but consult her old pal the internet and do some home-diagnoses?

Over the course of one particularly bad month, I was inflicted with hypothyroidism, arthritis, IBS, ovarian cancer, pancreatis and anemia. It's admirable that I even got out of bed. I was clearly on death's door.

My paradoxical self-diagnoses of being a hypochondriac has become a bit of an on-going joke for my family and friends but the reality is thus: the searing pain of 'you've just done 20,000 sit-ups and chased them with a pint of kerosene' is real. Real, unexpected, unpredictable and horrible.

Despite this, I think that there is some part of me that doesn't mind the pain. Not for any of the typical reasons; not because I like to be pitied, or doted on, or sympathised with, or even because I like skipping work, but because I like to heal. I like the feeling that when I loose control of my body, it's because it's telling me something, and that I can re-gain control if I just listen. Perhaps that message runs deeper than just "eat fewer raisins".

I believe very strongly in "mind over matter", and perhaps it's time for me to look beyond what I have been consuming, and more at what has been consuming me.