One year ago today, I woke up with my head pressed into my pillow, the bright, warm sun beaming down on a face still soiled with tears and makeup—remnants from days of falling asleep in lament, exhaustion, and sadness. A pillow that held me as I unmasked every single night—literally and figuratively. But something felt different that morning. I heard a loud ringing in my right ear. It felt like I had woken up with a hangover after an EDM concert—standing in front of the speakers all night. Except I hadn’t been out in months. Just work, home, and the occasional weekend coffee shop visit. As I lifted my head, the weight I usually carried on my shoulders seemed to shift—pressing up through my neck to the crown of my head. I’ve lived with tinnitus for years, so ringing in my ears was nothing new. But this was different. High-pitched buzzing. Fullness. Pressure. I shook my head side to side, trying to snap out of the fog and what felt like a water balloon lodged in my ear. I called my team to say I wouldn’t be coming in. This was a very rare occasion—because I was finally choosing to take care of myself. At the time, I didn’t know that this would be the beginning of a work sabbatical… that would soon become a resignation. Later that morning at urgent care, the doctor brushed off my symptoms as viral. She prescribed a Z-pak without asking about recent stress or life changes. I was reluctant, but desperate for relief—so I took the antibiotics and whispered a prayer for my gut microbiome. The next day, I returned to work. Not with a face mask, but the emotional one I wore so well—smiling through the exhaustion, numbness, trauma, partial hearing loss, and ear pain. The sound and pressure ebbed and flowed. No rhythm. No reason. Just a strange pattern: buzzing in the morning, followed by worsening hearing. I could barely hear nearby voices, but the distant sounds—CTA trains, ambulances, espresso machines—were blaringly loud. A week in, I went to the ER. The doctors were kind, but puzzled. The antibiotics hadn’t helped, so it wasn’t viral. One doctor, who I now credit with helping change the course of my life, ordered every test she could: CT scan, the Dix-Hallpike maneuver (not fun), coordination checks. Still no answers. But then she asked the one question that pierced right through me: “Have you been under any stress lately?” I broke down in tears. In that moment, it all came rushing back—conversations I’d had with my therapist, my family, my friends, my colleagues. Flashbacks of a journey I had been silently navigating for years: life trauma, unrelenting work stress, medical gaslighting and dismissal around my migraines, anemia, stomach pain, and chronic constipation. I had mastered emotional masking, but it had started to chip away at my executive functioning. In April 2024, I began working with an integrative doctor after noticing changes in my appetite, energy, and chronically low vitamin D levels. She created a plan of action—to reduce stress, take mental health days using my PTO, and run functional lab tests to finally get to the root of what was happening in my body. But I was too overwhelmed, too exhausted, too distracted by the demands of work. I kept procrastinating because I simply didn’t have the energy to advocate for myself. And now, it was June—and I’m sitting in the ER, remembering the words of the integrative doctor from two months earlier, along with the care, concern, and feedback that so many others had tried to offer me. It all echoed in that room. And for the first time in a long time, I was ready to listen. I told the ER doctor how deeply overwhelmed I felt. That I was looking into a local trauma recovery program. She looked at me, eyes welling up with tears, and said she had just completed that exact program. With a gentle human touch to my leg, she gave me a prescription that changed everything. I don’t remember her exact words, but it was something like: “You deserve this. There’s no shame in going. It will change your life.” She was right. That ER visit marked the beginning of everything: my work sabbatical, my healing journey, and my path to Poopism™. For years, I’d been dismissed—by doctors, by urgent care, by systems that didn’t understand that emotional pain can and will manifest physically. My hearing loss was my body screaming for help, and in that scream, I finally heard the message I needed most. I began trauma therapy, alongside talk therapy. I leaned into integrative care. I learned about the gut-brain connection. I changed my diet. I slowed down. I listened. And yet, I still couldn’t hear out of my right ear. A month later, another ER visit. Then admitted to the hospital. More tests. Everything still normal. A neurologist finally diagnosed me with vertigo. But I knew it wasn’t just vertigo. It was a turning point. (Amen.) “Vertigo” comes from the Latin root vert, meaning “to turn.” And turn, I did. On August 2nd, 2024, as I prepared to graduate from my trauma program, I looked at my program therapist and told her what I was saying goodbye to. At that exact moment, I felt the pressure in my ear release. The buzzing stopped. It hasn’t returned since. (Another amen.) I said goodbye to: * The version of me who masked trauma with people-pleasing and comedy. * The career I loved but that depleted me. * The relationships that no longer aligned with who I was becoming. I said hello to: * A healing journey rooted in trauma therapy and integrative medicine. * Diagnoses that finally made things make sense—ADHD, MCAS, gene mutations. * Restoring balance in my gut microbiome. * Realigning with my values and reclaiming my story. I never imagined I’d share this publicly. But I know I’m not alone. 💛 If you’re on your own gut and mental health journey—seeking connection, truth, and healing—I invite you to join the Poopism™ community. Share your story. Learn from others. Let’s stop suffering in silence. Because when we listen in—everything can begin to shift. Thanks for reading! This post is public so feel free to share it. I want to give a special thank you to my care team who have supported me on this journey back to wellness. Each of you made a difference in my life with each therapy session, lab test and review, word of affirmation, honest feedback, comforting hugs, and listening ear. Forever grateful. With gratitude, Barbie Founder of Gut Farmacy, LLC and Poopism™ www.poopism.com 📝 A quick note: While I used AI to help with grammar and flow, this story is 100% my own—my voice, my journey, my heart. Thank you for reading. Free articles are made possible with your support. I’m supporting local when I write at coffee shops. 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