Two years later, though, something else came along and seized my nights back.Nausea has always been my body's go-to symptom. Anxiety, sadness, fear, excitement — it all gave me a stomachache. Whatever the cause, it always got worse when I went to bed, and I'm used to spending nights curled up and wincing with a bottle of Pepto Bismol. However last summer, those nights became more and more frequent and severe. Pepto didn't cut it and I was sick almost every night, sometimes to the point of vomiting.The puking set off alarm bells in my head but I hit the snooze button on them, because surely this would pass. These bad tummy phases always did. After all, I was under unusual stress, trying to finish my book . That project had me overworked, under slept, and eating not-so-intuitively. (It was odd though, how things like olive oil, tomatoes, and any kind of meat suddenly triggered my nausea like they never had before.) I developed a new nervousness around food, which had nothing to do with the size of my stomach but the acute pain inside it.I turned in the book but the night nausea continued. That's when I finally snapped out of it, wondering if maybe my lifelong history of "bad tummy phases" was more like "a symptom." I found a gastroenterologist, who — after taking my history, running tests, and doing a thorough exam — told me the obvious truth: "Acid reflux. Classic." I think classic is the medical term for duh.Acid reflux had never occurred to me because I thought it was basically glorified heartburn (which I'd never had). But it turns out nausea is frequently part of that icky package. Considering the circumstances and evident triggers of my stomachaches, mine was definitely a duh case.I was heartened when, rather than simply throw pills at the problem, my doctor handed me a list of ways to manage symptoms myself. But when I looked at it, the alarm bells came back. Alongside a list of trigger foods to avoid there was a whole host of "lifestyle changes." Anyone who's ever been on a diet knows what "lifestyle changes" really means: Rules.— Don't drink water after a meal.— Break meals in half and eat them 90 minutes apart.— Stop eating three hours before bed.Just when I thought I was out.I walked away from the doctor's office waiting for panic to hit. I'd committed much of the last two years of my life (not to mention my job and my memoir) to quitting dieting, and here I was, about to start a new one. Only this time, if I failed, it would mean a life of constant pain and maybe even oesophageal cancer.In the face of that terrifying thought, a funny thing happened: the panic didn't come. Instead, I was bathed in relief. I was elated! I'd had a "difficult stomach" for so long that it never occurred to me I might not have to!Only when I was given this list of guidelines did I realise how long I'd been living in two distinct states: nauseated or in fear of becoming nauseated. I'd been devoted to my newfound freedom to eat, but when I wasn't looking, food had become a source of stress again. Just as when I was dieting, eating now ruled my social life (leaving the party early to go home and soothe my tummy), my romantic life (sex and vomiting? Nope.), and my mental outlook. It's hard to find joy in the day when you're dreading every night. I don't exaggerate when I say that Xeroxed piece of paper felt like a kind of salvation.