Chapter 8: How Long Did It Take to Heal My Gut?

I wanted to give this question its own blog post because when I first got sick, this was the question I asked more than any other.

More than “How do I get better?” More than “What’s wrong with me?” More than “How do I fix it?”

I wanted to know: How long is this going to take?

I remember scouring podcasts, blog posts, interviews (anything I could find) looking for timelines. Not just solutions, but stories and testimonials from people who were like me.

I wanted to know what people had tried, what worked for them, and how long it took before it started working.

I wasn’t just trying to fix my gut, I was trying to pace my race.

Can you relate?

Because here’s the thing: I was willing to do the work.

If someone had handed me a framework and said, “This exact protocol will help you heal,” (no matter how long it would have taken!!) — I would have said, Okay. Let’s go.

What made it hard was not knowing how long I needed to commit!! Are we talking a month? Six months? Two years? If I knew the answer, I could resolve myself to it. But not knowing? That was the hard part.

When I was healing my gut, there was so much uncertainty. I was trying different diets, supplements, wild fringe therapies. I was constantly asking myself: Is this helping? Is this hurting? Am I wasting time? Should I stop now and try something else? And when you don’t know how long to wait before changing course, the doubt can feel overwhelming.

So if you’re asking this question right now — How long does it take? — I want you to know: I see you. This blog edition was written for YOU.

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The Waiting Is Part of the Healing

One of the things I didn’t expect about healing was just how much waiting there would be.

In the early stages, when I was going the conventional medicine route, there was waiting everywhere.

Waiting months to get in to see a specialist.
Waiting for tests.
Waiting for results.
Waiting for someone to tell me what to do next.

And often, even after all that waiting, the answers were inconclusive. Or vague. Or didn’t lead anywhere.

That’s actually one of the reasons I decided to start finding my own path while I was waiting. I figured, if I’m going to be in limbo anyway, I might as well use the time to learn. To read. To listen to podcasts. To explore other approaches that might at least bring some symptom relief.

Looking back now, I’m grateful for that white space. That waiting forced me to search. And that search is what ultimately led me to the path that helped me heal. I wouldn’t have found it through traditional medicine alone.

And then there was waiting of a different kind: waiting to see if a diet worked. I tried low-acid for six months (!!). Then low FODMAP for about 4 months. Then a Candida protocol for 2-3 months. Each one required time. You can’t rush an elimination diet. You have to remove the foods, live in it for a while, and observe. I kept food journals. I paid attention to patterns. And every time I tried something new, there was another stretch of waiting.

Same thing with the fringe therapies. I tried Acupuncture, the Nerva Meditation app, HCl Betaine acid, digestive enzymes, probiotics (they claim this takes 6-12 months to re-establish your microbiome!), the IQoro neuro-muscular device. Each one required weeks (sometimes months!) before I could even evaluate whether it was helping. Some helped a little. Some not at all. Some were inconclusive.

All of that is part of the process. It is how you will find your way, and I encourage you to embrace all of it as valuable and necessary. (Remember my metaphor in my opening blog about God leaving me breadcrumbs?…)

At some point along the way, I came to believe something that changed how I related to the waiting: what if there is something happening in the waiting?… I leaned into the truth that “the universe is always in motion.” If that is so, then there were things swirling around my radar screen that could be informing what was still coming in. Healing doesn’t stop just because you don’t have answers yet. Every attempt, every experiment, every “waste of time,” every small action keeps things in motion.

Eventually something breaks the logjam.

You Can Be Healing and Still Be Uncomfortable

Another mindset shift that helped me was realizing that healing and discomfort can coexist.

I used to think that if I was still having symptoms, it meant nothing was working. But then I thought about a time years ago when I injured my elbow badly. It took five or six months before it felt normal again. During that entire time, it was painful. Inflamed. Weak. But I never doubted that it was healing.

So I started applying that same logic to my gut. What if this takes a year? What if it takes two? That doesn’t mean nothing is happening just because I still feel uncomfortable. It may simply be the nature of how guts heal.

So if you’re wondering, Is this working? Why do I still have symptoms?… hear this: you’re allowed to still feel symptoms while your body heals. Sometimes the relief doesn’t come until halfway through the process. Or three-quarters of the way through. That doesn’t mean you’re failing. Don’t give up.

I had to relearn how to cook with new ingredients. This also took a lot of TIME.

Healing Happens in Phases, Not All at Once

This is important. For me, healing didn’t look like waking up one morning and feeling fully better.

It happened in phases… little milestones.

A couple weeks into the Plant Paradox diet, I noticed constipation was gone. Then weeks later, I was burping less after meals. Then abdominal pain faded. Then one day I realized I’d been sleeping through the night (flat on my back) for the first time in over a year. I didn’t even realize it was a milestone until it had already happened.

That’s why I encourage you to document your progress. Write it down when something gets a little better. When a symptom lessens. When you realize you’re doing something today that you couldn’t do a few months ago. Those notes become anchors — proof that things are moving, even when it feels slow.

Looking back, that’s how my two-year journey unfolded. The first year was mostly searching — I thought I was making progress, but I couldn’t see any rhyme or reason to it. The second year after I started the Plant Paradox diet, was when the real traction began. And little by little, month by month, my symptoms diminished, until one day I realized I was about 90% better — and not thinking about my gut all the time.

That finish line — which had seemed so far off for SO long — now seemed like it was coming within reach.

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So… How Long Did It Take Really?

If you’re looking for a straight answer, here’s the most honest one I can give you. For people who follow the Plant Paradox protocol, I’ve often heard a 6–12 month timeline quoted for meaningful gut healing. For me, it was closer to 12 months on the diet before I felt confident that I had truly found my solution and that my gut lining had largely healed. And even then, the story didn’t end there. I actually thought I was “done” at that point—but over time, I’ve continued to experience deeper and more complete layers of healing, like more foods tolerated, my carpal tunnel symptoms vanishing, greater muscle strength, the ability to eat more food in one sitting. It’s been incremental, and in some ways, it’s still unfolding.

I also want to be very clear about something: I was all in with the Plant Paradox diet. I followed the diet religiously. I didn’t do it “most of the time.” I didn’t do 90% and cheat on weekends. That doesn’t mean someone else can’t see results with a looser approach — but I can’t speak to that, because it’s not what I did. I was in a severe place, and I treated healing like a non-negotiable. That level of commitment mattered for me. And while I would never claim this works for everyone, or that this is the only path, I can say with confidence that for my body, I believe it was the consistency over time that allowed healing to compound.

When the Finish Line Comes Into View

Something else happened as I got closer to the end of my race — something I didn’t expect. As my symptoms continued to diminish and I could finally see the finish line, I noticed a quiet shift in how I talked to myself about healing. I found myself thinking, and even saying out loud, If this is as far as I get, it’s enough.

That surprised me.

Early on, my definition of success was total, absolute healing. I wanted to be 100% symptom-free, back to who I was before. But over time, as my suffering eased, my relationship with discomfort changed too. I became more resilient. More grateful. More aware of how much better life already felt. Ninety percent better felt incredible. And while I still wanted full healing, there was a deep peace in realizing that even this version of my body was livable, workable, and worthy of joy.

I think this is something many people encounter along the way: the finish line doesn’t just represent “being done” — it reshapes how much suffering we believe we can bear, and how much goodness we’re already standing in.

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Celebrate the Milestones Before the Finish Line

There’s one more thing I want to share, because it mattered more than I realized at the time.

About two months into the Plant Paradox diet, I could feel it. I wasn’t fully healed yet, but I just knew I had found my solution. There was a conviction and a hope. And I decided to celebrate that.

I planned a trip to Colorado with my husband. I found a beautiful place to stay, planned a personal renewal retreat, spent the money, and made it an event. At one point, I decided we would climb a mountain peak, reflecting on my journey over the past year, and when I got to the top, I placed a stone on a ledge as a “ebenezer” stone to mark this moment in time. Then I yelled, “Victory!” Not because I was done healing (because I technically wasn’t), but because I knew I had finally found the path, and it was just a matter of time. I was celebrating the “end” of uncertainty and fear and a lifetime of chronic illness.

That moment fueled me for months afterward. When things got hard, I looked back on it and remembered: I wasn’t crazy. I knew this was working. I claimed it.

So here’s my encouragement to you: don’t wait until the finish line to celebrate. I don’t think healing the gut happens in one big moment. It happens in chapters. Celebrate the chapters. Mark the milestones. Let them strengthen your resolve.

It is my hope for you that one day — without realizing it — you’ll look around and understand that you crossed the finish line somewhere along the way. And when that happens, gratitude will overwhelm you.

Here’s the infuriating truth: your healing will take the exact time it needs to take for YOU. No more, no less.

But hold onto this hope: it won’t always feel this acute. As you make progress, the intensity eases. Your energy starts to come back. You have a few more good days in a row. And what once felt like a slog — just getting through the day — becomes more manageable. You realize you’re not just enduring anymore; you’re moving forward. And that forward motion is enough to carry you until the next milestone comes into view.

Chapter 8: How Long Did It Take to Heal My Gut?