Sharing My Story: Part One

For months, this has been a dream of mine. To share the ugliest part of me in the most beautiful way. To be real with my disease and let others in. To be brave and courageous. To see the beauty and celebrate it.

After my diagnosis, I was given two labels. Celiac disease in itself and the identity of being different. Different in how I ate, ordered at restaurants, shopped for food, packed my lunches, and gathered over meals. The simplicity of just showing up was no longer an option for me. Instead, I was met with constant explanations, tears around the table, and frequent anxieties. I stood out in an inconvenient and obvious way. How were people going to accommodate for me and how was I not going to be a burden? With many gatherings centered around food, I didn’t know how to go forward. After reciting the all too familiar list of things I could not eat, like wheat, gluten, corn, rice, oats, cheese, milk, people were always left with shocked and baffled expressions on their faces. These reactions made me feel alone and discouraged while also being quick to believe that maybe I am a burden and don’t have anything to eat.

After my diagnosis, I refused to be stuck in shame. I chose to believe that I am not left alone and I am certainly not broken by my disease. Starting in 2014, I was in pain every day. Internal pain that later turned external. For years, I convinced myself that the pain I had must just be normal for my particular body. However, this past year I have healed in a way that’s left me strong and confident. Instead of a list of foods I cannot eat, I now have a growing list that’s full of freedom. I no longer feel alone, distant, or different. I feel brave, inspired, and limitless. And I’m not just eating modified goodness, but pure goodness that is close to, if not better, than the “real” thing. Istead of being restricted by my disease, I am thriving in its freedom.