For the past two months, I’ve been living with one giant question mark. It just happens to be called gastritis.
I’ve seen the doctors. I’ve had the endoscopy. I’ve taken the medication. I’ve adjusted my diet. I’ve done everything I know to do.
And yet, every now and then, a flare-up still arrives. Not every day. Just enough to leave me asking, Why?
The Hardest Part Wasn’t the Pain
I remember asking my doctor what caused it.
“I don’t drink alcohol. I don’t drink coffee. I avoid spicy food. So how did I end up here?”
His answer was honest.
Stress. A sensitive stomach. Hormones. Sometimes there isn’t one clear cause.
I walked out of the clinic carrying exactly what I didn’t want. Another question mark.
I’ve had surgeries before. Compared to those, gastritis isn’t even the most physically painful thing I’ve experienced. So why has it been the most emotionally challenging?
Because this one refuses to give me certainty.
There isn’t a simple equation. Do this, and you’ll be better. Avoid that, and it won’t come back.
Instead, I could have several good days, only for a flare-up to appear seemingly out of nowhere.
I realized something surprising. The hardest part wasn’t the pain. It was the mystery.
The Question I Hadn’t Asked
One day, I asked myself a question I hadn’t asked in two months.
Have I actually allowed myself to be frustrated?
The answer was no.
I had been trying to heal. Trying to understand. Trying to surrender. But I had never simply admitted, I’m frustrated.
The moment I said those words, something softened. Not because the symptoms disappeared, but because I finally stopped pretending I wasn’t human.
Sometimes, being honest is its own kind of relief.
The Real Question Mark
As I sat with all of this, another realization quietly emerged. I wasn’t only struggling with gastritis. I was struggling with uncertainty.
Somewhere along the way, my nervous system had learned to equate uncertainty with being unsafe.
If I didn’t know the cause, I wouldn’t be safe. If I couldn’t predict the next flare-up, I wouldn’t be safe. If I couldn’t control the outcome, my body wouldn’t feel safe.
Looking back, I can see the loop so clearly. The uncertainty fed my stress. The stress made me search for more certainty. The searching created even more stress. Round and round it went.
And then I noticed something. I ask the same question about money.
“Where is the money?”
On the surface, it sounds like I’m looking for money. But perhaps, what I’m really looking for is certainty.
Different circumstances. The same question mark.
Learning to Live Without All the Answers
One sentence has stayed with me throughout this journey.
Uncertainty doesn’t mean unsafe.
That doesn’t mean I stop taking my medication. It doesn’t mean I ignore my doctors. It doesn’t mean I pretend everything is fine.
It simply means that after I’ve done what is mine to do, I don’t have to keep carrying the question mark.
Perhaps this has been the deeper invitation all along — not to eliminate every uncertainty, but to stop believing that peace can only exist once every question has been answered.
I don’t know exactly when my gastritis will be completely healed. That question mark is still there.
But maybe healing isn’t waiting for the question mark to disappear. Maybe healing is discovering that the Divine is just as present in the mystery as it’s in the answer.
A Gentle Invitation
If this reflection resonated with you, perhaps your next step isn’t finding another answer, but allowing yourself to receive.
I created this gentle Lemurian Angels: Light Language Healing as a space to soften, surrender, and rest in the mystery.
You don’t need to figure anything out or force anything to happen.
Simply bring one area of your life where you desire healing or support, set a gentle intention, and allow yourself to receive.
If it feels supportive, you’re warmly invited to listen below and leave in the comment what comes up for you. I’d love to hear them!
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