Issue 4 - December 2024

Kaleidoscript magazine Published by

Reclaiming health and fitness after receiving a diagnosis of ulcerative colitis and celiac disease.

The Journey Back to Strength

By Victoria Storrie

For as long as I can remember, fitness was my lifeline. I thrived on the rush of endorphins from my morning runs, the satisfaction of lifting weights, and setting off for an uphill hike. Each day began bright and early with a ritual of sweat and determination. Twice a day, I pushed my body to its limits, fuelled by an unwavering belief that I could conquer anything. Totally committed, I embraced rolled oats, salads, quinoa bowls, and protein shakes in my diet.

But then, without warning, the energy I had always taken for granted began to slip away. It started subtly—a sluggishness after workouts, a lingering fatigue that clung to me. I brushed it off at first, attributing it to a busy schedule or perhaps a slight cold. After all, I had always pushed through discomfort.

Days turned into weeks, and my once vibrant enthusiasm dimmed. I found myself struggling to complete my workouts, often cutting them short, exhausted and frustrated. Food became a minefield; I’d feel bloated and nauseous after meals that had previously nourished me. Each time I tried to fuel my body, I was met with an insistent reminder that something was dreadfully wrong.

I sought help from doctors, who assured me that my symptoms were merely the result of a "sensitive tummy." Their dismissive tones left me unsatisfied. I wasn’t just sensitive; I felt like a shadow of my former self. Ignoring their reassurances, I insisted on further tests.

The results arrived like a storm and tore through my carefully constructed world. The diagnosis: ulcerative colitis and celiac disease. It felt surreal, like a cruel joke. I was devastated, faced with the reality that my body was at war with itself. My once-healthy lifestyle now felt like a betrayal. The very foods that fuelled my workouts were now the enemy.

The next year was a gruelling battle. I felt trapped in a body that was no longer my ally. Each flare-up drained my spirit, and the constant fatigue was a heavy weight on my chest. The struggle to find the right medications was exhausting. Doctors offered various treatments, each with its own side effects. I felt like a lab rat, navigating a maze of options that often left me feeling worse than before.

But I refused to succumb to despair. I dedicated myself to understanding my new reality. I immersed myself in research, exploring dietary changes that could ease my symptoms. Gradually, I developed a new relationship with food, one that involved both caution and creativity. I learned to cook gluten-free meals and discovered safe, nourishing foods that honoured my body’s needs.

I started with gentle movements—walks and stretching—to reconnect with my body without overwhelming it. I found solace in these small victories; each gentle pose a reminder that I was still capable of caring for myself. Over time, those stretches transformed into light cardio, then to brisk walks, and eventually I could jog again. Each step forward was a declaration of resilience, a refusal to let illness define me.

The turning point came when I found medication that finally offered relief. My flare-ups diminished, and I began to reclaim the energy I thought I’d lost forever. With renewed vigour, I returned to the gym. I could feel the familiar rush of adrenaline, the satisfaction of pushing my limits, but now it was different. It was no longer a competition with myself; it was a celebration of my strength and my will to overcome.

I learned to listen to my body and to honour its needs rather than force it into submission. I prioritised sleep, hydration, and balance over intensity. My workouts shifted to include strength training, and I embraced rest days as essential to my recovery. The numbers on the scale became less important. I focused instead on how I felt—stronger, healthier, and more aware of my body’s signals.

As I stood on the trail one sunny morning, feeling the rhythm of my feet against the ground, I understood that I was not just back to fitness. I was reborn. The journey taught me invaluable lessons about patience, resilience, and the importance of listening to my body. Each mile I ran was a testament to my recovery, a celebration of the life I was reclaiming.

Now, as I push through my runs, I can’t help but feel grateful. The struggle shaped me into someone who appreciates health not just as a number but as a lifestyle—one that is adaptable and aware. My experience with ulcerative colitis and celiac disease has become a part of my narrative—a chapter that taught me about balance and the power of perseverance.

Every day is a new opportunity to thrive. I am committed to my health, not just for the sake of fitness but for the joy of living. I’ve embraced a new normal—one where I can enjoy the flavours of food without fear, celebrate the strength in my workouts, and live each day with gratitude. I may carry the labels of my conditions, but they no longer define me. They are merely a reminder of how far I’ve come and how beautifully resilient the human spirit can be.

Interview with Victoria Storrie

In this issue of KaleidoScript, we feature our short story winner, Victoria Storrie. Her piece, The Journey Back to Strength, chronicles her path to reclaiming health and fitness after being diagnosed with ulcerative colitis and celiac disease. It's a powerful reminder for anyone facing similar challenges that they are not alone.

What was your emotional journey like during the time you were seeking a diagnosis, and how did you cope with the uncertainty?

It was super hard at first. I felt a lot of anxiety with all the unknowns, and it was overwhelming not knowing what was happening or what to expect. But through it all, I held onto my faith in God, and that became my anchor. As I prayed and trusted, a sense of hope started to grow. It wasn’t an easy journey, but faith gave me the strength to keep going, even when the path ahead was unclear.

Were there any specific moments or experiences during your recovery that changed your perspective on health and fitness? 

Yes, there were a few key moments during my recovery that really shifted my perspective on health and fitness. At first, I focused mainly on physical progress, how quickly I could get back to my old routine or push through the discomfort. But as time went on, I realised how much mental and emotional strength played into the healing process. There were days when my body felt weak, but I learned that true health isn’t just about physical strength; it’s about balance, patience, and listening to my body. That shift in focus made me appreciate the importance of mental wellness just as much as physical fitness.

How did your relationships with friends and family evolve as you navigated this health journey?

At first, I was hesitant to lean on others, but I quickly realised how much I needed their support. My family was there every step of the way, offering comfort and encouragement, and that brought us even closer. With friends, I became more open about my struggles, which helped me feel less alone and strengthened our bond. I also learned to appreciate the power of simply having people who cared, whether they were offering a listening ear or small gestures of love. It made me realise how important it is to be vulnerable and lean on others during tough times.

What role, if any, did mental health play in your journey back to strength, and how did

you address it?

Mental health played a huge role in my journey back to strength. At times, the emotional toll of the uncertainty and recovery was just as challenging as the physical obstacles. I had to acknowledge that my mind and body were connected. To address it, I made a conscious effort to prioritise mental well-being alongside physical recovery. I practiced mindfulness, took time for self-care, and leant on my faith for peace and strength.

Were there any unexpected sources of support or inspiration that helped you during your struggle?

The people I worked with surprised me the most and were a huge source of support during my struggle. I never expected them to be so understanding and patient with what I was going through. Their kindness, encouragement, and willingness to adjust to my needs made a big difference.

What misconceptions about chronic illness or fitness would you like to dispel based on your experience?

One major misconception I’d like to dispel is that chronic illness means you're "weak" or incapable of being active. The truth is, chronic illness can be unpredictable, and fitness looks different for everyone. It’s not about pushing yourself to extremes but about finding what works for your body and respecting its limits. Another misconception is that recovery is linear. There are setbacks, good days, and bad days, and that's okay. It doesn’t mean you’re not making progress; it just means healing is a journey, not a race. Finally, many people believe that if you’re physically strong, your mental health must be strong too, but mental and emotional wellness plays a huge role in recovery. Both aspects need attention for true healing.

How has your relationship with food evolved, not just physically but emotionally, after adapting to dietary restrictions?

Adapting to dietary restrictions really changed my relationship with food, both physically and emotionally. At first, it felt like a loss; food was a comfort and a way to connect with others. But over time, I learned to see food as fuel for my healing, not just something to enjoy. I became more mindful of what I ate and how it made me feel and started finding new ways to make meals both nourishing and satisfying. It helped me shift my focus from indulgence to self-care.

What advice would you give to someone facing a similar health challenge who feels overwhelmed by their diagnosis?

If you're feeling overwhelmed by your diagnosis, my advice would be to take things one step at a time. It’s completely normal to feel scared and uncertain, but try not to let the unknowns take over. Start by focusing on what you can control, whether that’s small lifestyle changes, finding support, or simply allowing yourself time to process. Lean on your faith, your loved ones, or anyone who can offer encouragement. And remember, recovery isn’t linear; there will be ups and downs. Be kind to yourself, and don’t hesitate to ask for help when you need it. You’re stronger than you think, and even in the toughest moments, there’s hope.

Looking back, what would you tell your past self at the peak of your struggle, and what would you want your future self to remember about this journey?

Looking back, I would tell my past self at the peak of my struggle to be gentle with myself and trust that this moment, no matter how hard, wouldn’t last forever. I would remind myself that it’s okay to not have all the answers and that healing takes time, patience is key. I’d also say that leaning on others for support isn’t a sign of weakness, but a strength.

As for my future self, I’d want to remember the resilience I discovered during this journey. The moments of doubt, though tough, were the ones that taught me the most about my own strength. I’d want to remember that no matter what life throws at me, I have the ability to adapt, grow, and keep moving forward, and that faith, hope, and love will always guide me through.

Categories: : celiac disease, health, ulcerative colitis