“Keeping your emotions and thoughts bottled up can hurt more than the disease itself” – Josh’s story
My name is Josh. I am 19 years old and have been battling UC for years. I think now is the time for me to tell my story. I’m sharing this so everyone can be aware of other people’s silent and invisible battles.
In 2021, my life changed in ways I never could have imagined. That was the year I was diagnosed with ulcerative colitis (UC), a disease I had never even heard of before. I thought it would be a walk in the park, but it would soon control every aspect of my life. When doctors first told me what it was, I thought it was a minor stomach issue; something that could be fixed with medication and a few diet changes. I had no idea that this illness would push me to my absolute limit, take away things I loved, and force me to redefine who I was as a person.
At the time, I was young, fit, and unstoppable. I was training martial arts daily, sparring, lifting heavy weights, and eating whatever I wanted without a second thought. My life revolved around my physical health, my discipline, and my love for pushing my body to its peak performance. But ulcerative colitis had other plans.
For those who don’t know, ulcerative colitis is a chronic autoimmune disease that affects the colon and Intestines. It causes severe inflammation and ulcers in the digestive tract, making everyday life painful and unpredictable. The body’s immune system mistakenly attacks the intestines, leading to symptoms like: chronic abdominal pain and cramping, severe diarrhoea – often mixed with blood – extreme fatigue, rapid weight loss, nutrient deficiencies due to malabsorption and unfortunately an uncontrollable urgency to use the bathroom
UC is a disease that affects everyone differently.
Some people have mild symptoms and can manage it with small lifestyle changes, while others are like me, experience crippling flares that strip away their strength, energy, and sense of self. There is no cure, only treatments that attempt to control the symptoms, reduce inflammation, and keep the disease in remission.
I am going to fast forward from my diagnosis to January 2025, where my body had reached it’s absolute breaking point. What started as manageable flare ups quickly turned into a medical emergency.
In just one week, I lost 7kg. Yes you read that right, 7kg in 5 days. This was not because of training or a planned diet, but due to severe blood loss and malnutrition. My body was so weak that I could barely stand. The urgency to use the bathroom was constant, and every trip left me feeling dizzy and lightheaded due to the amount of blood that was being lost. My colon was so inflamed that it was unrecognisable compared to how it should look. The damage was severe, and I was pushed to undergo an emergency procedure to try and finally get to the bottom of what was causing this severity of a UC flare.
Even prior to January 2025, my doctors and specialists put me on 14 tablets a day — a mix of powerful medications that came with their own brutal side effects.
This included mood swings that left me feeling completely disconnected from myself, nausea and exhaustion that drained every ounce of energy I had. My mental fog so intense that I couldn’t focus on even the simplest things. The worst part of it all was that I lost my strength.
Before getting diagnosed, being strong, athletic, and disciplined was vital to my sense of self. My life revolved around training, martial arts, and lifting heavy. I pushed my body to its limits daily and took pride in how much I could handle. But suddenly, that was all gone. How quickly my life could change without any notice blindsided me.
I found myself lying in a hospital bed, unable to even hold up my own body weight. Walking to the bathroom became an exhausting battle, and I needed the nurse’s help to stand and balance myself. I felt embarrassed, ashamed, sad and scared. I had all these feelings going on all at once because, three months prior, I had a hard sparring battle and was pumping the heaviest of weights at the gym. A short time later, I couldn’t even stand up by myself. The disease had stripped me of everything I had worked for.
But the hardest part? Pretending I was okay. Physically, I was suffering. But mentally, I was breaking apart even more. In public, I kept smiling. On social media, I made it seem like I was as strong as ever. No one could see the truth. I didn’t want pity. I didn’t want people to treat me differently. I thought if I kept acting like I was fine, maybe I could convince myself that I was. But the reality was I was crumbling from the inside out.
The pain wasn’t just physical. It was emotional and psychological. There were nights when I stared at the ceiling, wondering if I would ever feel normal again. Days when I questioned if I would ever be able to train, eat, or live the way I used to.
And I kept it all bottled up.
One of the biggest mistakes I made during this journey was shutting people out.
I had friends, training partners, and people who cared about me, but I didn’t want to bring them into my struggle. I didn’t want them to see me weak. So instead, I kept everything to myself, leaving them in the dark. Unfortunately, this led to the loss of relationships. Some people drifted away not out of malice, but simply because I never let them in. They had no idea what I was going through because I never told them. I let my pride get in the way, and in doing so, I lost connections that once meant the world to me.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:
Keeping your emotions and thoughts bottled up can hurt more than the disease itself.
Before UC, I could eat whatever I wanted. Fast food, dairy, high protein meals, spicy foods all the things I loved. But now? There are foods I that I might never be able to eat again. Everything I once enjoyed has to be carefully measured and controlled. Some foods trigger unbearable pain, while others cause immediate flare ups. It’s not just a diet change it’s a permanent lifestyle shift.
And alcohol? Completely out of the question.
Drinking is something many people take for granted, but for me, it’s a dangerous risk. Alcohol causes severe inflammation, worsens symptoms, and can send me straight into another hospital bed. One drink could undo months of progress. It’s just not worth it.
This disease has taken a lot from me my strength, my independence, my diet, and even some friendships. But it has also taught me some of the most important lessons of my life. True strength isn’t just about how much weight you can lift; it’s about how you keep going, even when everything is stacked against you. It’s okay to not be okay. There is no shame in asking for help, in admitting that you’re struggling. You don’t have to fight alone. There are people who care, who will stand by you if you let them.
To anyone battling UC, or any invisible illness, I want you to know: You are not alone.
I know what it’s like to suffer in silence. I know what it’s like to pretend you’re fine when you’re barely holding on. But please don’t make a mistake and let your emotions and thoughts eat you alive. Believe me, as I have been in this exact same position. Speak up. Let the people who care about you in.
This disease tried to break me, but I’m still here. I’m still fighting.
And if you’re fighting too know that you are not alone.
May God bless you all.