Hello. Hi. You may remember me from such failed blogs as Unfit-Mom, Mandatory Sobriety, and the one-hit-wonder In Case Father’s Day Sucks For You. I also dabbled in low-level Instagram sobriety influencing with an account I’ve mostly ghosted because I’m well past the novelty-honeymoon-dreamy-sober-sunrise phase).
Oh, and I once owned an online sobriety merch shop that lost me so much money it felt like passing a gallstone. Except less sharp and more financially humiliating.
Let’s just say I’ve punished my liver in more ways than one. Years of problematic drinking, followed by years of high-fat, high-sugar emotional eating. Turns out that also wrecks your insides. Cool, cool, cool.
Why start a blog in 2025?
Great question, me. Blogs aren’t what they were in the glory days of 2012. People don’t linger. They want quick answers, one-click solutions, maybe a Pinterest pin that tells them exactly what to eat.
And honestly? That’s fine. If I can help you even a little, if something I’ve learned helps you avoid the worst physical pain I’ve ever experienced in my life, then feel free to get in, get what you need, and get the hell out. I’ll still consider it a win.
But if you do feel like staying, subscribing, lurking, or even rage-reading, welcome. You’ve got gallstones. I’ve got stories. Let’s begin.
What this blog is (and isn’t)
This isn’t your mom’s gallbladder blog. It’s not polished. It’s not full of smoothie recipes and platitudes about “listening to your body” (although, tbh, sometimes you should). I’m going to swear. I’m going to complain. I might occasionally spiral.
But I’m also going to share what’s worked for me. What hasn’t. What I’ve learned from late-night research, 9-1-1 calls, and bland meals that made me cry.
How it started
Right before my 40th birthday, I thought I had a bad reaction to something I ate. Just some good ol’ fashioned indigestion. Several hours of pain later, I moved on.
Over the next few months, I had more of what I now know were gallbladder attacks. I was misdiagnosed with an ulcer. Then extreme heartburn. It wasn’t until I finally got an ultrasound that the truth emerged: gallstones. Just hangin’ out in my gallbladder. Vibe-killing.
And what did I do with that information? Absolutely nothing.
I shoved that diagnosis somewhere deep in my brain, next to “drink more water” and “fold the laundry,” and carried on like I was still 25. Burgers. Nachos. Vats of butter. Emotional eating on hard mode.
When it got real
Eventually, the attacks came faster. Harder. I was doubled over, unable to breathe, drenched in sweat, and seriously considering driving myself to the ER barefoot.
And just like when I quit drinking, I hit that point where I said: enough. No more pretending. No more ignoring what my body was screaming at me. No more “treating myself” like a garbage fire and calling it self-care.
So … why this blog?
Because this is a weird, lonely space to be in. You’re not sick-sick. But you’re not well. You’re navigating a confusing combination of pain, fear, guilt, food restriction, medical gaslighting, and questionable Google search results.
And there aren’t enough voices saying, “Hey, I get it. I’m in it too.”
So here I am. Not at the beginning of this journey, but definitely still learning. If you’re also dealing with gallstones, or wondering why your upper right side hurts every time you eat, I hope this space makes things a little clearer, or at least a little funnier.
TL;DR
- I have gallstones
- I’ve made a lot of bad decisions
- I’m learning to make better ones
- And I started this blog so you don’t have to suffer as much as I did
Thanks for being here. Cradle that sweet baby gallbladder and let’s do this.
She's Got Gall 
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