I used to think that confident people were born confident, brave people born brave, and happy people born happy. An immature thought, but I believed characteristics like these were just naturally inherent. I convinced myself that I was just born to be sick with my IBD. It was a burden that I hated and equated as the worst part of myself. From the ages of 3 to 19, I treated it as this deep dark secret that I told no one about. For some reason, it was virtually impossible for me to tell friends about my UC and how it affected me. I kept everything to myself and never shared when I was feeling physically sick, or even worse, mentally drained. Luckily, I have a great family, an unrelenting support system that even when I didn’t want them to be, they were there for me. However, when someone with IBD goes to college, either newly diagnosed or a long-time patient, their assumptive world shatters. You’ve moved miles away from home with the most annoying friend you could ever think of, your IBD. At least that’s what I thought when I got to school. How am I going to deal with it? Am I going to tell people? Will they think I’m weird? What do I eat? What if I must go to the bathroom in class?
The questions were looming over me the minute I got to school. My fear overwhelmed me; it convinced me to believe that I would never find a way to integrate my UC into my new college life. I was fighting this mental battle against myself, and simultaneously seeking to get involved in any sort of organization at my school to feel more comfortable there. My university happens to be heavily research focused, and I was interested in the healthcare field. I decided to push myself out of my comfort zone and join a lab that focused on the one thing I knew the most about, IBD. It was there, in that moment that I felt empowered by my disease for the first time. I chose to openly use my IBD as a qualification, as an asset rather than a detriment. As time went on, I started to get more involved in other organizations that focused on IBD, such as this fellowship, that views one’s IBD as a contributing factor rather than a limiting one. I took a part of myself that I once hated and allowed it to become a distinctly unique piece of me. The transformative growth I underwent from concealing my IBD to using it to make me stand out was an unparalleled feeling.
My biggest recommendation for anyone in college with IBD is to put IBD on your resume! Not literally, but in your own rhetorical way. Have it be your secret superpower that allows and pushes you to get involved in opportunities that reside in a world you so deeply understand. Work with nonprofits for IBD, get involved in research, or join a support group. Apply for scholarships for students with IBD. If you don’t happen to find any opportunities for students with IBD, start some! Start a support group or start a club exclusively for college students living with IBD. Find absolutely anything that connects you to your disease, because the minute you do this, you start to not only view your disease, but your potential, in a different light. If we as IBD patients are going to live with this forever, we might as well use it in a way that gives us the upper hand. Live a life with activities that are filled with opportunities that let you be proud to be someone with a chronic condition. Four years ago, I would have never been able to muster up the confidence to talk about my disease in the way I do. Today, the version of me that exists cannot stop talking about it. I am continuously seeking out ways in which I can intertwine IBD with my life, my work, and my interests. Every day, reaffirming that my IBD is the part of myself I am most proud of. Don’t let IBD hold you back from finding opportunities that make you feel fulfilled in a way you might’ve never known existed; use it to your advantage. It is a piece, that once embraced, can be advantageously employed in a surprisingly positive way.