I was thinking more about your post. When I was first diagnosed I was so mad. I felt like my body had betrayed me, again. While I had come to accept that I suffered from depression and ptsd, I had accepted that my mental health was screwed up. But accepting that my physical body was damaged and had something wrong with it was a hard thing to accept. I was so angry with my body. I hated it. I wanted to punish it for what it had brought me to. That I would have to change my life because it couldn't keep itself healthy. It couldn't do it's simple job of being able to move me around and make it so I could do things. If it couldn't do those basic things, why should I care about it? It took me time to be able to forgive it, and myself for the new challenges I was going to have to face. I was wondering if you were feeling anything similar with your liver problems and possible celiac. When I was able to realize this it was easier to deal with. It was still hard, but easier.
Funny you mention this. Right after my diagnosis of celiac, I wrote hate mail to my body. On facebook. I won't write what I posted on here because there's a lot of "colorful" language.
And, I feel terrible for airing my trials when I KNOW so many of you here have been through a much more nasty hell than I've ever experienced. But...it's my journey, I suppose. And I can only draw from my own experiences and, hopefully, learn from others.
I cannot tell you how much I appreciate all who have responded. I've been in a mentally dark place, and I don't wish to go back. I'm not fully out of it, but at least, I'm now in a place where I can hear what people are telling me without having it fall on deaf ears (which was the state I was in last week).
Thank you, again, everyone, for caring and taking the time to write.