18/03/2026
Irritable Bowel Syndrome: The Hidden Grief Living in the Intestines
By Mauricio Kruchik NOT me! A fascinating read!
I am one of those who believe that Irritable Bowel Syndrome is, in essence, a psychosomatic condition. Not caused by a virus, a microbe, or a bacterium, although of course such factors may exist in the context of other digestive problems. But when we speak specifically about IBS, clinical experience, at least what I observe in my practice, points in another direction.
I often see patients in my clinic who have been diagnosed with IBS. Their physician has diagnosed them, or at least raised the possibility, that they suffer from Irritable Bowel Syndrome. Their bowel movements do not follow a consistent pattern. They may go through several days of constipation, followed by episodes of diarrhea. The intestine seems incapable of finding a stable rhythm.
Something else frequently accompanies this situation. Many of these people have eliminated so many foods from their diet, considering them irritating, that their nutrition eventually becomes poor, restricted, and even anxiety-provoking. They avoid gluten, dairy products, coffee, legumes, certain vegetables, fermented foods… until they reach a point where they practically no longer know what they can eat without fear.
Paradoxically, this constant restriction does not always improve the problem. In many cases it actually makes it worse.
When I have the opportunity, or when enough trust has been built with the patient, I sometimes mention something that may initially feel uncomfortable: that Irritable Bowel Syndrome is very likely a psychosomatic phenomenon.
And here lies a risk, because the word psychosomatic is often misunderstood.
Many people believe it means the problem is “in their head,” or “not real,” as if someone were saying, “you created this problem yourself.” Although that interpretation may occasionally contain a grain of truth in certain contexts, in general, I would say nothing could be further from reality.
If we divide the word into two parts, we find its true meaning. Psycho refers to the psyche—our mental and emotional life: thoughts, memories, conflicts, decisions, frustrations, expectations. Somatic comes from soma, meaning body.
Psychosomatic simply means that something occurring in our emotional world influences the body. And this is not an alternative theory or a romantic interpretation. It is pure physiology.
But saying this without explaining the context can confuse the patient. If we are not careful, we may end up creating an even greater misunderstanding instead of helping.
As a Reflexologist, my work does not consist merely of accepting definitions or diagnostic labels. My work begins at the feet.
So I go to the feet to search for the emotion trapped in a dark silence, crouched in fear, crying out to be released. Alone, it does not know how to find its way out, so it expresses itself through tissues, organs, and bodily systems.
Then an inevitable question appears: if a repressed emotion seeks expression, why does it choose the intestines? Every emotion seems to resonate with a particular organ—sometimes the intestines, sometimes the skin, sometimes the lungs or the heart.
The answer begins to appear when we understand the deeper function of the intestines.
Let us consider it.
Physiologically, the intestines are an entire universe.
The brain processes abstract information: what we see, hear, feel, imagine, and believe will happen. The brain organizes priorities, interprets experiences, and anticipates scenarios.
But the brain, curiously, is a sterile organ.
It does not process food.
It does not process bacteria.
It does not process the air we breathe.
The brain processes meaning.
The intestines, on the other hand, process matter.
Everything we decide to introduce into our body passes through them: food, bacteria, residues, toxins, nutrients. The intestine must constantly decide what stays and what goes.
Neutralize bacteria.
Absorb nutrients.
Discern.
Expel.
All of this occurs thanks to peristalsis, the rhythmic sequence of contractions that pushes intestinal contents forward.
But in people with Irritable Bowel Syndrome, this rhythm changes. As a consequence, the intestine loses its natural cadence: it retains for days, and when it can no longer hold on, it expels violently.
When we observe this pattern simultaneously from a symbolic and a physiological perspective, a revealing biological metaphor emerges: the body seems to struggle to decide what to retain and what to let go.
Do I hold on, or do I release?
This question runs through many human stories.
Among the emotions I repeatedly perceive in the feet of people with IBS, one appears with surprising frequency. An emotion that, in my opinion, conducts the orchestra.
An orchestra, of course, that is terribly out of tune.
That emotion is GRIEF.
When we speak of grief, we usually think immediately of the loss of a loved one. But grief can take many forms. It may be grief for the person we could have become but did not. For decisions we never made. For paths we abandoned. For dreams that remained suspended somewhere along the way.
Many people live for years carrying this silent grief within themselves. They continue with their lives, they work, they form families, they fulfill responsibilities. But something inside remains retained.
And when grief is prolonged for too long, the organism can become trapped in a permanent state of alert.
This is where the autonomic nervous system comes into play.
Our organism is regulated by two complementary systems: the sympathetic and parasympathetic nervous systems. The sympathetic system is the system of action, defense, and survival. It activates when we must react to danger.
The parasympathetic system, in contrast, governs rest, repair, and digestion.
When a person lives for years with unresolved emotional tension, the sympathetic system may remain activated far longer than the organism was designed to tolerate.
And the intestine, deeply connected to the nervous system through the vagus nerve and the enteric nervous system, sometimes called the “second brain,”, responds to that internal state.
The intestine listens to the nervous system.
When the nervous system lives in a state of alert, the intestine does as well.
As a result, intestinal motility is altered, visceral sensitivity increases, transit becomes unpredictable, and the characteristic pattern of Irritable Bowel Syndrome emerges.
But there is another fascinating element worth mentioning.
The intestines produce a large portion of the body's serotonin.
Serotonin is a neurotransmitter essential for emotional well-being. It is the chemical messenger that helps us perceive life with a certain serenity, with a capacity for hope and optimism.
When the intestine becomes dysregulated, this system may also be affected.
In other words, a disturbed intestine not only digests poorly. It can also contribute to a person perceiving life with greater pessimism, more anxiety, or less emotional resilience.
The circle becomes evident.
The emotional state affects the intestine.
And the condition of the intestine influences the emotional state.
A vicious circle.
But here an extraordinary possibility appears.
If grief is one of the emotions sustaining this circle, it may also be the doorway out of it. Because grief does not have to be eternal.
There comes a moment in life when a person may look at themselves honestly, with enough courage, and say something profoundly liberating:
Enough!!
I have lived long enough in grief.
What happened, happened. The losses were real. The opportunities I did not take are part of my story. But I do not need to preserve that grief as if it were an inner monument.
I can acknowledge it.
I can accept it.
And with that same courage and determination, I can close that cycle.
Closing a cycle does not mean forgetting or denying what happened. It means fully recognizing it, integrating it into our history, and allowing it to stop governing our present.
It becomes an act of awareness.
And sometimes, also an act of bravery.
When this process begins, something in the nervous system changes. Constant vigilance starts to diminish. The body relaxes. The abdomen releases a tension that may have been present for years. And the intestine, slowly, can begin to find its rhythm again.
Reflexology does not replace medicine (although in a sense it is medicine, since medicine is anything that heals), nor does it intend to do so. But it offers something often lost in modern medicine: a space where the body is listened to attentively.
A space where the symptom is not merely an enemy to eliminate, but also a message to understand.
When we stimulate certain reflex zones, we are dialoguing with the nervous system. We are inviting the organism to gradually abandon that permanent defensive state.
And when the parasympathetic system begins to regain its role, the body remembers something essential: that it also knows how to rest.
When the body rests, the abdomen relaxes.
When the abdomen relaxes, the intestine begins to move again.
And when the intestine begins to move naturally, very often something begins to move in the person’s life as well.
Perhaps that is why, whenever I see a patient with Irritable Bowel Syndrome, I do not see merely a digestive disorder. I see a deep conversation between the mind, the nervous system, and the intestine, about what we retain in our history, and about what we still struggle to let go.
And perhaps, when we learn to listen to the body with enough attention, that emotion which was crouched in fear, crying out to be released may finally find a way out.
Not with violence, but with understanding.
And with the courage necessary to close a cycle and begin living again, free from grief.
What´s your experience with patients suffering IBS? Or your own, maybe....
See you on the dark side of the moon. ❤
