I Jumped (not fell) Off The Gluten-Free Bandwagon

I wasn't going to write this, but what the hell.

When I was first diagnosed with Celiac, I frequented a lot of internet forums to get advice on how to live with this. What I found was NOT an uplifting community of fellow celiacs like I assumed I would find, but people who were defensive about whether or not other people were “truly celiac” if they struggled to not eat gluten. That if a person was ever to let a piece of white bread enter their mouth again, that they were obviously not sick enough to truly be allergic to it.

Frankly, it caused me to vigilantly hide my issues with food addiction even more and separate myself from a community where I didn’t feel welcomed to share my personal struggles with not consuming gluten.

Every time I attempted a gluten-free diet, I ended up quietly slinking away in shame because my addiction was stronger than my will to nourish my body. Isn’t that what is behind a lot of eating disorders? So last week, when I broke down, I decided to do things differently.

My birthday is not my favorite day of the year. I can’t emotionally or mentally keep up with all the people who reach out to me from 10+ years ago who want to reconnect, talk about how my life is going, and this year I even gained a pen-pal?! The phone calls, the Facebook messages, the pressure to show up as my best self to the people in my life who love me… I’m exhausted by the end of the day.

Side note: I realize that this may sound ungrateful, but I promise, it’s not. I WANT to have the energy to invest in the people who come into my life, and I have for many, many years. But my body and mind just have different ideas these days about “uplifting” vs. “crippling.” It’s cool though. We manage.

About a week before my birthday, I started experiencing some deep depression. I couldn’t shower, feed myself, or function for days leading up to it. That meant skipping most breakfasts and lunches, and then getting the same overpriced dish of gluten-free pasta almost every night from a local joint. This meant that I had blown our food budget out of the water and we were running low on funds.

Let me tell you something. Nothing humbles you more than getting down to your last dime. And facing this reality on the day that I turned 31 was a mother-fucking sucker punch to the gut. Not only could I not get my mental health under control, but I also couldn’t feed myself like I needed to, manage my money, or get out of bed on most days.

Jennifer Garner lied. “Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving?” Yeah right.

So, as I’m crying in bed, feeling like a total failure, I had a rare moment of clarity. I turned to my husband and said, “I need to take a break from being gluten free.”

Yup. It’s true, I ate a Papa John’s pizza last week. Now before you jump down my throat like I just killed a puppy or something, yes, it was stupid to eat a pizza. Yes, I absolutely paid for it afterward. Maybe I should have started off with not taking the croutons off my salad or something like that. In fact, after eating the pizza, I remember thinking, “Everything hurts, but damn, it was fun for about 20 minutes.”

That being said, I’m still happy with my decision because BALANCE IS KEY FOR ME.

I still try to eat gluten free at every chance I get, but if my mental health would rather have me jump off a roof than cook another non-familiar and time consuming gluten free meal, I’m going to opt for whatever option I need in that moment.

Eventually I will get there: 100% gluten free. But it’s ok if it’s not today. I’m choosing to prioritize my mental health in tough moments like this, while taking steps towards a lighter work load and more manageable lifestyle.

Progress is progress, and I’m proud of myself.

Cheers,

-Lo