I am 26 years old, living in London, UK, and have been officially diagnosed with IBS-D for almost a year now.

In March 2008 I caught a bug - you know, one of those ten-a-penny viruses which go around: everyone knows they'll catch one every few months or years, right? I was laid low for a week with diarrhoea and a fever, and at the time just sort of tut-tutted my bad luck at getting poorly. The fever lifted after 7 days, but the diarrhoea carried on...and on, and on and on. I was confused, and worried: why wasn't I getting better?

I went to see my GP about 8 weeks after getting the bug, and was sent off on what I now know as the familiar milk-round of blood tests, barium meals, ultra-sounds, endoscopies and colonoscopies. All this lasted 6 months or so; and all the while I was stuffing myself with Imodium in an effort to carry on as normal. As an actor, I was travelling a lot for work, as well as spending a lot of time on set, in front of 50-strong crews, or several hundred audience members in the theatre. Anyone who suffers with IBS-related diarrhoea knows this: when you've got to go, you've GOT TO GO! Unfortunately, that's tricky to explain to 300 paying members of the public, halfway through a 3-hour show. Nightmare situation, no?!

Luckily I have not yet had (and touch wood, never will have) a public accident. And if I do...well. Having faith in the kindness of strangers is my biggest ally. They will not point and shriek. They will help me, as I would help anyone who was taken ill. People are not as mean as we fear.

As my tests last year progressed without cure, I began to get more and more anxious: anxious about travelling on the bus or tube in case I had an accident. Anxious about meeting friends in case I had an accident. Anxious about going to work in case I had an accident. Eventually, anxious about leaving the house in case I had an accident. And then I knew something had to be done. I was only 25, and not about to let this thing beat me. So I got myself on a Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) course, and I can say with my hand on my heart that it was this which made the biggest difference to my quality of life. The therapist and I went through everything - warts (or should that be poop?) and all: facing my fear of having an accident in public, the way I felt about myself, my losses in confidence, self-satisfaction and libido. She taught me not to be so hard on myself; that other people would in all likelihood help me if the worst happened; and that my spirit needn't bow to this physical problem. Little by little, I started to believe her.

And so. Here I am, a year later; still pooing at the speed of light, but infinitely more confident and happy.

It strikes me that the real trauma we go through as IBS sufferers, more than the physical discomfort and pain of our condition, is the shame, the dirtiness, the humiliation and the fear, both of ourselves and the world. Our fallible bodies are as mourned for as a lost relative, a lost lover. We grieve for our 'better' life before IBS; our better self, lost and gone. How can I ever be beautiful again? How can I ever be good again? How can I ever be Me again?

It is the hardest lesson to learn, the lesson to deal with life again. To not be afraid of our own bodies. To not hide away from others. It is also a great strength, to master the fear, the grief. It is humbling and humanitarian: it makes us better people. And it requires love and compassion all round.

I still rely on Imodium for relief from the physical symptoms: it works for me. Regaular exercise also seems to help. But I find it better not to plan everything too far ahead, although I know this provides a degree of mental security for others. I like to know where the toilets are when I go somewhere new, but that is all the difference IBS-D makes to me now. I am still performing on stage and screen, and travelling by tube, train, bus, car and plane on a regular basis. In the last year I have filmed 2 television dramas (both away from home); been in a feature film; recorded a radio play; and performed in an 7-week theatre run doing 8 shows a week at a premium London theatre. If there is proof of Life After IBS, I am living it.

I do not wish to let myself be the keeper of this dark and malicious pet, always feeding and watering it with worry and fret. I am in charge. And I cam happy. I am living again.

And so can you.

The very best of luck.

By: Jlady82