Part One: What's Up With My Asshole?

So, where did this black hole spiral into discontent begin? It wasn’t a floodgate that opened all at once but rather a slow leak that went unnoticed until, one day, I was up to my neck.

The first indication that something was awry began not in my brain—but in my ass. It’s important to keep in mind that I in no way connected these first issues with anxiety. One of the main themes of this story is the slow, creeping nature of anxiety and panic—it would be a lot shorter story if I had been educated about the nature of my symptoms in advance. Unfortunately, that’s not the timeline we are living in. I never thought I’d be writing these words, but I think it’s time we get back to the question at hand; what was wrong with this guy’s ass?

One day, I noticed I was “regular”. Like really regular. Like going six times a day regular. The problem (if that was not already a problem) arose when my regularity became irregular. I wouldn’t know when it was going to hit, but I knew my window of opportunity to find a bathroom was beginning to narrow. I’m talking about taking a walk to nowhere one minute to taking a brisk jog to the bathroom the next.

After dealing with this for awhile, I found I was forcing myself to use the bathroom before leaving the house. I had no doubt that this habit was inconveniencing those around me, but I lived in fear that the “worst” would happen if I didn’t try. (Bring this guy a pair of fresh pants and get him out of here asap “worst”.) Of course the worst would probably never happen, but now I believe that this was my first induction to the anxiety cycle. 

It was about a year or so later when I made one of the best decisions of my life. I dove deep into veganism. No, this story will not be laced with vegan propaganda—there are plenty of blogs out there that cover that topic. However, after my transition to veganism, I was no longer “super duper regular”. The transition wasn’t difficult; I had toyed with vegetarianism on and off in the past and landed on a primarily pescatarian diet after moving to Portland, but my dairy intake was at an all time high. Bean and cheese burritos, baby! 

My life steadily improved after switching to veganism. I lost a little weight, felt tranquility in my mind, and most notably: felt no bathroom anxiety. I deduced that I was lactose sensitive (a nice way to say shitting a lot) and in my mind, veganism had cured me. This is probably a major reason why I hold my diet choices so dear to me. They allow me ample opportunities that I took for granted in the past.

Little did I know this was a band-aid on a bullet wound. My body and mind had discovered a new technique to get my undivided attention and was prepared to use it. So where did panic enter the picture here? It didn’t yet. That comes later. It comes in a fucking maelstrom of disruption to my otherwise mediocre life.