Sharing My Story: Part Five
There are good days and there are bad days. Days when I feel discouraged and days when I feel inspired. Sometimes my heart is anxious and unsteady, while at the exact same time, my face is beaming with a smile and my feet move light and easy. My inward and outward being are frequently at war. Celiac disease gives me a different voice. The best way to quiet it? Shared meals with those who see the beauty and know its true source.
When I was diagnosed, I never thought I would return to the table. Let alone a table where I could enjoy a meal with those around it. I believed the lie that told me I would be secluded and different forever. A lie that kept me away from community and friendships.
Sharing a meal has always held a special place in my heart. It is a time where rich conversation flows, the ease of friendship grows, eye contact is held, and the proximity of those is near. Laughter or tears come as the aroma of things like lemon garlic chicken or goat cheese biscuits fills both our noses and stomachs. Our taste buds freely dance in rhythm with our hearts.
With celiac, I had lost my ability to gather. I got into such a dark rhythm that didn’t allow for me to see those who came to me with open arms. There was a darkness of being different. When I was invited over, I would try my best to think of an excuse. Any reason to stay at home. Anything to not cause problem, attention, or embarrassment. I kept my eyes closed and my heart turned away in fear of further rejection or disappointment. I was tired of my label and tired of feeling the burden of others doing extra work to create a dish that I could eat. I was humiliated when their efforts still included something that was not good for my body. I carried the weight of shame as I could not indulge and reap the extra work or money or time they spent creating a dish.
More weekends than not, I was by myself. Not because no one was inviting me but because I chose to not be invited. I figured it would be easier to stay inside, eat what was safe, and watch Gilmore Girls for the 3rd time through. I felt safe when I could have control. I felt comfortable without anyone else’s voice. I couldn’t fathom any steps backward and absolutely could not put myself in a hurtful situation. I wish I could say this isolating season lasted for a few weeks, but this went on for 4 years.
When making plans, I remembered what it felt like to be in pain every day. Pain that never left and only increased after every meal. I feared that any mess up would return that pain. I feared the tears that would flow as I would walk into the house, see the dinner table set, and glance at the steaming dish of cheesy, salty, crumbly poppyseed chicken casserole waiting for the guests on the stove. Or sitting around the table passing the buttery, flaky rolls around knowing I will be the only one not taking one. Or the awkwardness of sitting with my hands crossed in my lap, a forced smile on my face, and wandering eyes from person to person as I tried to remain in the conversation with an empty plate. I often drank endless amounts of water to keep my hands busy and disguise my grumbling stomach. Sometimes in my attempt to be brave, I would pull out my tuber ware of cold leftovers, place it on the plate, and try to eat while everyone else was too. By the end of the night, I was always left tired, cranky, and hungry. Depleted instead of filled.
Because gathering around the table was crucial to my lifestyle growing up, and constant in my independent life, I knew I had to reintroduce it. I knew there had to be a way to bring joy back around the table and into my belly. I knew I had to have other voices speak in and champion me in the good and bad.
One full year after my celiac disease diagnosis and beginning of my grain free and dairy free diet, I now live symptom free. For the first time in my life, I no longer feel daily pain or discomfort. I never wake up thinking, how bad will my stomach hurt today? Or, when will I have a chance to get back to the house so no one will know how much I have to use the restroom? My stomach healed and so did my mind. Now, I am alert, full of energy, and the best part? I am able to eat around the table with friends and family. Friends enjoy the food I make and try hard to invite me in with ease. I’m becoming bold and honest which allows me to feel the joy restored and life given back to my bones.
There’s freedom in food and a celebration in the mist of celiac. There’s confidence to be found at a grocery store and a list of safe foods that stretch a mile long. Gathering in a home over food that heals our entire being. Biscuits, cookies, chili, pumpkin bread… the list is unlimited! May our hearts be re-centered and encouraged in our celiac journey. I cannot wait to continue to share with you how I got to this place and hopefully open the door for you to experience the same.
