My name is Norma. I’m 17 and I have battled ulcerative colitis since I was 10. I was born and raised in a small town near Mexico City, but a year ago my Mom and I moved to Los Angeles, California. Currently I am a senior in high school and hopefully next year I'll be attending Harvard University (YEP, HARVARD!).
For years I spent my time looking for someone to blame, it didn't matter who. I blamed myself for not being "normal" or healthy enough. I blamed my Dad (who battles UC as well), and I blamed God. I needed a reason for why I was going through such hell; why I couldn't attend school like my friends; why I had to take so many medications; why I had to go an outrageous amount of times to the restroom. I fell into a deep depression.
The worst part is that, at the time, I didn't realize this was affecting my parents as well. They lived every single step of the way with me. I think that having IBD is awful, but having to watch your kid struggle with IBD must be even more awful.
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