It feels like 100 knives stabbing me in the stomach.
Over and over.
Hour after hour.
I call it “The Stomach Pain of Death” (and I HATE it). In case you’re wondering, in the past I typically crawled up on the couch or bed and just wished it would end. Sometimes I would cry.
Yes, I’ve even thought death might be better at times.
Sound dramatic? Well, I don’t wish this upon anyone, but if you’ve experienced it you understand.
I remember experiencing it as a kid. And then over and over throughout my adult life. It started getting really bad in 2009, and it was one of the biggest motivators for me to change my health.
But last week I had to sit in a room with over 70 people and not move… while I got stabbed for hours.
It was a new level of hell.
Why didn’t I curl up and cry, take pills, drink alcohol or seek some other distraction to run from the pain?