I admit, I am having a difficult time accepting my allergies. Discovering at age 37 that you are allergic to peanuts, soybeans and all the other legumes, that you can't tolerate gluten, that your mouth is going to feel like it's being tortured if you eat fruit, and that stepping outside is going to wreak havoc on your body, is not easy to accept. When did I go from "normal" to allergic? How did this happen, and why now? It didn't seem real.
Step 1: Denial. If I was fine a couple of months ago, then why can't I just have one bowl of cereal today? I'll be fine, the doctor said I should keep eating the things I'm allergic to, to keep up my tolerance. That must mean I'm not "that bad."
What I've put together from my doctor's advice and articles online is that the body craves the things we are so allergic to in an effort to maintain some level of tolerance. This would explain why I literally ate soybeans and peanuts all the time in the six months or more prior to my allergy testing. My favorite meal had become Huevos Rancheros, I loved the beans we used. I could always eat spaghetti or pizza even when I was full. I had recently added lentil soups to my recipe lineup even though nobody in the house ever liked lentils.
Step 2: Guilt. I have a hard time justifying the effort I put into choosing foods. I feel like I'm just being dramatic when I say, "I can't eat that." My long-time friend came to visit last week, and brought with him a 6-pack of a nice IPA. I had to say, "Beer has wheat." I didn't want to say it, I was going to just politely decline for some other reason, but it had been so long since we all had a beer together that I had to explain why. I felt like as coming off as pretentious. I check every label and I say out loud if I can or cannot have something and why, so that everyone can be aware. I feel sometimes that I'm making an unnecessarily big deal out of ingredients. I feel like I'm harassing everyone with my food restrictions. More-so, I struggle with the choice of either buying gluten-free and/or soy-free substitutes for foods I like or just skipping them all together. Should I get gluten-free brownie mix, or just pass on brownies? I feel guilty buying GF foods just because they're labeled GF. I don't need brownies. When I have to decide, I just skip the food. The new problem becomes nutrition. We do need grains. We need fruits and vegetables. We need a well rounded diet, even some fat. It's tough to rationalize buying specialty foods though, when we have so many other options. I have an especially hard time when I'm out for the day, or when I'm hungry between meals. I'm tempted to nibble on one of my son's cookies or a granola bar from the checkout lane at the store. Then, I preemptively feel guilty for the damage one little bite could do and I drop the craving all together.
Step 3: Bargaining, depression. I need a treat! I'd settle for a bit of chocolate, it doesn't have to be gluten product (but the soy lecithin bothers my stomach). When I'm hungry, I rationalize that one bite won't hurt because it didn't hurt before. In reality it did hurt before, I just didn't realize it was caused by food. Every time I ate something my stomach bloated and I had stomach pains, I was always lethargic, my face was covered in acne. My husband had been pushing me to figure out why I was always tired. I wasn't just tired, I was exhausted, drained, beat. My answer to him was that I've always been tired, as long as I can remember. I tried everything for my skin and assumed it would never get better. Now I am irritated with the hassle I have to put other people through if we want to eat out or have some drinks and my anger at the gluten eating world drove me to start this blog. I wouldn't say I was depressed, but I did feel some "woe-is-me." I felt left out. Everyone else is going about their day with donuts, waffles, birthday cakes, hamburgers, pasta, instead of really hearing me when I explain my problem. People don't understand. It's tough to get through.
Step 4: Reflection. Millions of people have or will have medical problems. While I'm grateful that my only big problem is food, for which I can actively make safe choices, I realize that this is my new lifestyle. Forever. I have to be aware of what I'm touching, drinking and eating, my utensils, how foods were prepared, what's meant by "natural flavors" in an ingredient list. I'm not sure yet how careful I really have to be; can we still keep bags of flour in the pantry and can I hand breaded chicken nuggets to my son? I have to embarrass myself and tactfully ask people specific questions about the food they offer me. Do I have to bring my own food to Thanksgiving dinner? I can't chance gluten contamination. I'm going to carefully grow old on a very specific diet, or risk dying of anaphylactic shock or some Celiac related complication. It's just food, but it's a very dangerous problem. I don't just sneeze around cats, I have a life-threatening illness. Worse, my children are at risk too (I'm still back at denial on this topic).
Steps 5 and 6: The upward turn, reconstruction and working through. I can do this. With the internet and a wealth of books, I can figure out how to eat well without having to make a lot of substitutions. I love to cook. I can create my own recipes and share them with other people in my situation. I will continue to scour the web for resources and share what I find. My dreadful, life altering test results have sparked a new hobby and hopefully it will help others too. I am grateful that I have the resources, the time, the money, the ability to move forward in a positive way.
Step 7: Acceptance and hope. I am relatively healthy. If I make good choices, I will stay healthy. If I take my antihistamine every day, the pollens won't bother me. If I read labels and prepare my own food when possible, I will get proper nutrition. Even better, my family will learn good eating habits from me.
I feel better now than I've ever felt before. I have consistent energy, I am happy, I have great skin and a new sense of self-confidence. I can use my learning process to do good for others. My family supports me and I know this journey will be enlightening. It's not the proverbial end but the beginning of a new chapter of my life.
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