Just Calm the F*#k Down!

As a person who rarely uses any form of profanity, (even if I happen to say crap, it’s a BIG deal). I mean seriously, I NEVER curse. You might be able to get a pretty good idea about how angry I am at my body right now. Or rather, is it how angry my body is with me, perhaps?

I just want to scream at the top of my lungs, “Just calm the f*#k down, already!” Why do you have to be so sensitive? Why do you have to overreact at Every. Little. Thing. All. The. Time?

Every little thing

It’s like the slightest little thing happens; the weather changes, a fly lands on me, someone even thinks about touching me, and WHAM! My body goes all ape sh*t crazy. Why must my body be so sensitive all the time? Why can’t I just live my life like a normal person? The rage inside me just won’t quit. It’s relentless, and I’m always left with the same burning question, "Why can’t you just calm the f*#k down?"

Human pincushion

With the never-ending tests and the fact that I’m pretty much a human pin cushion, it’s no wonder that I’m constantly fighting my raging body. Putting out the fires of my flaming body has become a full-time job. If my body would just calm down, I could have half a second to actually live. I am so tired of fighting to put out the flames, 24-7.

IBS

Everything I eat, each activity that I do and every medication I try just makes my body angrier. I know some people suffer from IBS (irritable bowel syndrome) but I think I suffer from IBS as well, except it is more like Irate Body Syndrome. My entire irate body is ridiculously easily irritated. And to make matters worse, there is no medicine to treat Irate Body Syndrome. No remedies. No cure. No relief from the symptoms.

Do you want to draw blood? Sure. Go ahead. I’m 100% certain that tomorrow I will have a patch of psoriasis there. I might as well just take off the bandaid and put my steroid cream on right away. You know, because my body has a terrible case of IBS.

Procedures

Oh, and heaven forbid I have to have a “procedure” done. Procedure is the fancy doctor word for causing a shi*t-load of crazy to hit the fan. “Procedures” cause a full-on, total body rebellion of epic proportions. No amount of yoga, meditation, or “rest” can calm the storm that procedures produce. No matter how “simple” the procedure may be, it riles up a fire in me that can take weeks to put out and I’m left with the same burning question, "Why can’t you just calm the f*#k down?"

No effective pain relief measures

And heaven forbid, those same doctors actually prescribe real, effective pain relief measures. Yes friends, I’m talking about the “O” word. (And no, not the fun one either…) I’m talking opioids. Those lovely little pills that can actually help my body calm the f*#k down, thanks to idiots that don’t know how to simply follow directions, these little gems are rarely prescribed anymore. The one thing available that actually helps just calm the f*#k down, is left just beyond my reach.

Left smoldering

Just when I get all of the fires put out, I’ve calmed the swelling joints and quelled the raging storm. After all that, here I sit. Constantly reminded that no matter how good I feel or how much I believe that I’m winning the war with my IBS, it will always be there, smoldering just under the surface, waiting for the smallest thing and I will be left with the same question, "Why can’t my body just calm the f*#k down?"