I just finished teepeeing and forking my youth pastor’s yard, when I felt unsettled. We ate Chilis that night and when we got home, my stomach felt like it never has before. I couldn’t get to sleep and kept tossing and turning, trying to ease the gnawing in the pit of my stomach. Then it happened.

For the first time in eight years, I threw up.

Food poisoning, the thing we assume started it all. One week into summer, I got it from eating a salad and I hated it. From that night on, every meal, every drink, anything I would put into my mouth would make me nauseous. I never actually threw up except for that first episode, leaving me on edge as to if it would ever happen again.

For about two weeks after the first time I threw up, I couldn’t eat anything except crackers and maybe bread. Eventually I worked up to having meals and eating somewhat normally. However, the pain and nausea persisted.

I tried to ignore the symptoms and have a normal summer. I acted like everything felt fine and I tried to go on living like I used too. But in reality, most nights I spent lying awake, praying that the pain and nausea would go away. I would stay up worrying about what triggered it, how much I could eat tomorrow without suffering and how I could hide it. I spent nights on the bathroom floor, screaming at God to help me get through this, to take it away.

During part of this time I went on vacation. My family and I went to Colorado. Beautiful mountains, gorgeous hikes and nice drives were all overshadowed by the fact that I couldn’t eat anything without feeling like I had always be near a restroom. It might have been the altitude, maybe the food, we don’t know. But we do know that I didn’t get any better.

After that, I went to the doctor, had an ultrasound done and everything came back fine. The doctor put me on a strong antibiotic because maybe a bacteria in my stomach caused it. Eventually the antibiotics finished and I still remained sick. At this point I pretty much ruled that I can’t have salad, ice cream and pizza, they would make me feel the worst. But foods in general pretty much still made my stomach upset.

But I didn’t make this public. Except for my family and a select friends, no one knew about this going on. I thought no one wanted to hear it. They would think nothing of it and it embarrassed me to tell people that I basically couldn’t have anything without feeling gross later on.

I still live with the pain, but I’ve learned to manage it. I still can’t sleep some nights, and random foods trigger nausea, but I still live and enjoy my life. I am not currently going to the doctor, I’m doing research on what could be wrong and figuring out what makes me sick. I’m involved with organizations that I love and can make me forget about everything going on inside of me. I’ve learned that that more I focused on my problems, the more they stuck out and affected my day. I’ve learned to not focus on my problems and find the positive in life.