Two Journeys 4

I'm in Haiti! If you think of it, send up a prayer for me and our team. While I'm traveling, I wanted to share another, slightly less exciting, journey with you. I found out I was gluten-intolerant a few years ago and, while this may not seem like a particularly compelling journey, I've learned some interesting things about myself along the way.

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Hey, thanks traveling down this little neurotic road with me! I am hoping that at the very least you've been amused and, just maybe, I've validated your own crazy.

The truth is there are millions of people out there with dietary issues who deal with this kind of stuff every day. Many are actually debilitating. Fortunately, there are also plenty of resources and support available for people like me. But you have to acknowledge that you need help before you can accept it. If we're being honest, I am not ready to accept the way my diet changes my life.

Does anyone else tend to fight with their weaknesses? Do you go at them with a club, just hoping that, given the proper incentive, they will finally buck up and get the job done? Do you push and stretch them like the Mighty Ducks, hoping that they will find some secret inner fire that will spark an inspiring comeback?

It doesn't work for me either, because weaknesses are just weaknesses. They are the thin parts, worn through to nothing. You can't just will them away and you certainly can't beat them away. Holes have to be filled, weaknesses have to be strengthened.

This has been a weird journey so, please, don't miss my point here. If you or I have any area where we are afraid to fail or afraid to ask for help, something is wrong. We are designed to need others, and we are especially designed to need God.

Strengthen the weak hands, And make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are fearful-hearted, "Be strong, do not fear! Behold, your God will come with vengeance, With the recompense of God; He will come and save you." Isa 35:3-4

Thanks again for walking with me down this road, thanks for letting me be weak.

Two Journeys 3

I'm in Haiti! If you think of it, send up a prayer for me and our team. While I'm traveling, I wanted to share another, slightly less exciting, journey with you. I found out I was gluten-intolerant a few years ago and, while this may not seem like a particularly compelling journey, I've learned some interesting things about myself along the way.

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Yesterday, I talked about how my frustrations with my new dietary needs had more to do with my fear of being weak or needy than the diet itself. For three years I struggled with trying to avoid the foods that were making me sick while also not inconveniencing others or appearing "whiney." I was so stressed that I would just give up until I felt yucky enough to want to try it again.

But eventually, I started meeting other people who didn’t eat wheat or dairy or whatever. Not because they were granola-hippies, but because it made them sick too. They also didn’t seem to have a problem telling people they had "special" dietary requirements the way that I did.

In fact, one of my good friends found out she was a hard-core Celiac, she couldn’t even touch gluten without reacting to it. We’d go out to dinner she would greet the waiter with “Hi, I’m April! I’m going to need a gluten free menu,”

She’d get on my case about it too.

“Sarah, you need to stop apologizing for not being able to eat certain foods.”

The fact that she didn't feel the need to downplay her illness or ask forgiveness for a condition she couldn't control was amazing to me. She was so brave, like Batman; she was my hero.

But I wasn't that brave yet. Sp when I found out that my coworker went gluten-free a few years back because he almost died from food related complications, it was like finding a little oasis, little piece of evidence that I’m not a complete freak.

That it is okay to have a weird diet.

Friends started voluntarily making special foods just for me. My friend Rachel was the best. I was at a Christmas party and she came up to me and said, “I found a recipe for peanut butter cookies that doesn’t even have flour in it because I know you can’t have gluten.”

I about started crying, I’m not joking.

See, it wasn’t just about being able to eat cookies (though that would have warranted tears as well), it was the fact that she thought I was important enough to make the effort; she went out of her way to make me feel normal. She legitimized my needs by meeting them without me even asking. To me, that was huge.

What can I say? I’m a special kind of crazy.

I’m also a person who fights everyday against feeling needy or asking for help and this was the most incredible gift someone could have given me.

She made it safe for me to be weak.

Two Journeys 2

I'm in Haiti! If you think of it, send up a prayer for me and our team. While I'm traveling, I wanted to share another, slightly less exciting, journey with you. I found out I was gluten-intolerant a few years ago and, while this may not seem like a particularly compelling journey, I've learned some interesting things about myself along the way.

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Yesterday, I talked about how great it was, when I went to my naturopath and she told me that I wasn't crazy and certain foods were making me sick.

But it was different when I walked out the door. My naturopath gave me a list of foods to avoid that was, I’m not joking, 6 pages long. I never realized how much I took eating for granted until nearly all of my food sources disappeared. Where do I find agar agar or xantham gum in a city of 7,000? Seriously, the nearest Trader Joe’s is 3 hours away. I don't cook and you’re saying I can never eat fast food ever or anything that comes from a box or can at Safeway…oh and none of the produce either because it is all coated with whey (yeah, can't have that either).

It takes about three weeks for an inflammatory substance to work out of your system so, when you radically change your diet like this, it is a while before you feel the difference. The frustrating thing is that, if you have several things triggering a reaction, even if you weed out most of them, if you slip up on one, it knocks you back to the beginning of that three week period. And with six pages of triggers, you have a lot of opportunities to slip up.

It’s a slow climb up a steep learning curve and I’m not one for endurance, I’m a sprinter. To be honest, I'm a quitter.

I also tend to make decisions on the fly, and that does not work when you have to scrutinize your food. You have to start planning for food, you can’t just grab something to eat somewhere along the way or decide what you want when you get to the restaurant. At the very least you have to have an emergency meal bar with you at all times. and this seriously changed the way I lived my life and I didn't like it. Worrying about where or how I was going to find food would me in this horrible state of anxiety and I hated it. Worse, I felt weak. Like I needed the world to stop what it was doing and cater to me because I couldn't handle life like normal people. Then I’d feel weak for not being able to maintain my diet restrictions.

It was worse when others were involved, I felt like the big whiner ruining everyone’s plans. How was I supposed to explain to my friends when we want to go to the Olive Garden that I literally can’t eat anything? That we can’t just swing by Subway “on the way” (Have you ever tried one of those salads? You need to eat like 7 to be full and they charge you more for them! Fail, Subway!). “Sorry guys, you have to change all of your plans because I can’t eat convenience food,” it's loads of fun being that person.

“Thanks for the dinner invitation! Can you make me a gluten-free, soy-free, dairy-free meal without raw veggies, citrus fruit, avocado, peanuts, pork, kidney beans, chicken, corn, tomato, carrots--what? No, I’m not allergic to carrots, they’re just nasty.”

“No, sorry, you can’t use anything that comes from a can or box in that meal because it will have gluten, whey, maltodextrin or soy lecithin in it. Welcome to 1920.”

“No, I know its whole wheat. It’s still…wheat.”

“Thanks for making rice instead of pasta, that was sweet, but I can’t have chicken or the awesome homemade tomato sauce you made special for me. Sorry”

“No, no, it’s cool I’ll just have some brown rice and a Larabar. “

Forget that! So I started downplaying my issues, saying things like, “No I’m fine. I mean, I won’t die if I eat it, I’ll just feel better if I don’t.” Say “I’m fine,” enough when you’re not and you’ll really start getting confused. You'll start thinking you really are just overreacting and maybe you do need to just get over it.

I am an incredibly proud and independent person. The fact that I was facing an issue that was too much for me to handle on my own, one that made me feel physically weak, no less, was overwhelming. I really don't know if other people play these kinds of mind games with themselves, but I believe this has a lot more to do with my own issues with being weak and asking for help than with my diet.

To keep me from becoming proud, I was given a thorn in my flesh, 2 Cor 12:7

Two Journeys 1

I fly into Haiti this morning! If you think of it, send up a prayer for me and our team. While I'm traveling, I wanted to share another, slightly less exciting, journey with you. I found out I was gluten-intolerant a few years ago and, while this may not seem like a particularly compelling journey. I've learned some interesting (read: neurotic) things about myself along the way. So pull up a toadstool and pop a squat.

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“I love finding another one; it makes me feel like less of a freak.”

I was joking with a coworker about making him cookies as a bribe. He quickly pulled up a recipe for Gluten-Free Peanut Butter, ChocolateChip, Rainbow cookies.

Weird, I thought, I didn’t realize he knew I was gluten-free.

But it wasn’t me, it was for him!! It was like finding a little oasis, little piece of evidence that I’m not a complete freak, that it is okay to have a weird diet.

See, I’m not really “out” at work yet. I don’t like telling people about my “special” dietary needs because, well I feel like a whiney hypochondriac, a granola-eating freak.

(I blame my brothers.)

Okay not really, but I did grow up in a world where "food" issues didn't really exist, peanut allergies notwithstanding. Food intolerances were not common and, to many people, a bit of a myth. So, when I realized in the 9^th grade that putting milk on my cereal in the morning meant I spent first period in the bathroom doing Lamaze-breaths through my stomach cramps, I didn’t really say anything. I just stopped drinking it.

Not too long after that, I realized that fresh fruit, fruit juice, donuts or any other sugary food for breakfast did the same thing. And toast. And bagels.

In fact, I felt nasty all the time. The trouble was that I didn't feel "sick." I couldn’t legitimize my symptoms because they were weird, inconsistent, and not really “bad enough” to go to a doctor though they were bad enough to constantly bother me. I not only was embarrassed by my grossness, but I was embarrassed that I was complaining about it. 

It took me about 10 years to decide that how I was feeling really wasn’t normal. Or, if it was normal, it didn’t have to be, that there were people in the world who didn’t feel tired and stomach-gross all the time. I didn’t want to walk into a doctor’s office when I wasn’t “sick,” so I went to a naturopath. I went in secret, because, to be honest, it felt like voodoo medicine, even to me.

The visit was a little embarrassing, I’ll admit, but I absolutely loved my naturopath. I loved her because she didn't question how I was feeling, she didn't argue with my symptoms because there was no "reason" for them. She didn't talk about my body like it was a petri dish but like it was a complex ecosystem that just needed some extra care. Best of all she told me that I didn't have to always feel this way.

For the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like I was crazy for feeling sick.