Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS) Isn’t Just in Your Gut—It’s in Your Story: Are We Treating It All Wrong?

The Diagnosis That Changes Everything—And Nothing

I still remember the day I was diagnosed with Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS).

After years of unpredictable stomach pain, bloating, and the constant fear of not knowing when my symptoms would strike, I finally sat in a doctor’s office, hoping for an answer. Hoping for relief.

The doctor reviewed my tests, sighed, and gave me a name for what I had been experiencing.

"You have IBS."

I nodded, waiting for more. But what followed was a list of vague dietary suggestions, a prescription that may or may not work, and the unsettling reality that my suffering had been labeled—but not explained.

IBS, I learned, is a diagnosis of exclusion. This means that after ruling out all serious conditions—like Crohn’s disease, celiac disease, or colon cancer—IBS becomes the default label when no clear pathology is found. In other words, it’s what you’re told when medicine doesn’t have an answer.

For a while, I did what most patients do: I followed the restrictive diets, I experimented with probiotics, I took the medications that promised to "manage" my symptoms. But despite everything, the flares continued. And what I didn’t know then—but deeply understand now—is that IBS is not just a gut disorder. It’s a message.

The Hidden Root of IBS: A Body Holding onto Trauma

Traditional medicine treats IBS as a gastrointestinal disorder, but what if it's more than that? What if the cause is something deeper—something we’ve been taught to ignore?

For many women, IBS is not just about food intolerances or an overactive gut. It is the physical manifestation of suppressed trauma, neglect, and childhood adversity.

Think about it:

🔹 Why do IBS flares tend to happen during moments of stress?

🔹 Why do symptoms appear when we feel unsafe, unheard, or overwhelmed?

🔹 Why do so many women with IBS have histories of trauma, emotional neglect, or abusive relationships?

Because IBS isn’t just about digestion. It’s about survival.

When we experience trauma—especially in childhood—our nervous system learns to stay in a state of hypervigilance. The gut, known as the "second brain," is directly connected to our emotions through the vagus nerve. If you’ve ever felt "butterflies" when anxious or lost your appetite after bad news, you’ve already felt this connection at work.

For those of us who grew up in unpredictable, neglectful, or abusive environments, our bodies learned early on that safety was never guaranteed. Our gut became conditioned to react to stress in the same way it did back then—by tensing, twisting, and sending distress signals in the form of bloating, diarrhea, constipation, or pain.

So what happens when, as adults, we encounter stressors that unconsciously remind us of those early wounds?

The body reacts as it always has. The gut relives the past. The IBS flares up.

Are We Treating IBS the Wrong Way?

Most IBS treatments focus on symptom management. We are told to avoid gluten, limit dairy, reduce stress, take fiber supplements. But none of these things address the root cause.

What if, instead of just treating the gut, we treated the soul?

What if healing from IBS required acknowledging the trauma that lives inside us?

What if the real cure wasn’t just in diet or medication, but in telling our stories, making the connections, and releasing the pain that our bodies have carried for so long?

Sharing Our Stories: The First Step to Healing

I used to believe my IBS was something I would have to endure forever. That I was just unlucky. That my body was broken.

But then I started making connections.

I started noticing how my symptoms flared up whenever I was around someone who reminded me of my past. How my gut clenched whenever I felt unheard, unseen, or powerless. How my digestion seemed to shut down whenever I was in a situation that made me feel the way I did as a child—small, helpless, afraid.

And when I finally spoke about my trauma—when I finally gave my pain a voice instead of burying it—something incredible happened.

My IBS started to fade.

Not overnight. Not instantly. But slowly, my body began to trust me again. It stopped sending distress signals when it realized I was listening. And for the first time, I felt a sense of relief that no diet or medication had ever given me.

You Are Not Alone—And You Are Not Broken

If you’ve been struggling with IBS and feel like nothing is working, I want you to know this:

You are not crazy. You are not making this up. And you are not alone.

Your body is not broken—it is speaking to you. And once you begin listening, once you begin acknowledging the deeper wounds that need healing, you will start to notice a shift.

This is why I created Hear Her Heal—a space where women can share their stories, be heard, and heal together.Because healing happens in community. It happens when we break the silence. It happens when we refuse to carry the burden alone.

If you feel ready, I invite you to share your story. What has your journey with IBS been like? Have you noticed connections between your symptoms and your past? Your voice matters here.

Join our community of women who are reclaiming their health—not just by treating symptoms, but by healing from the inside out.

And I promise you—once you make the connection, you will start to feel better.

Share. Be Heard. Heal 

Dr. Su