Sometimes it really is just stress

At the beginning of the school year, we noticed something really...odd...about Penguin's appearance.
Her eyes.  There was something...different.  The lashes were disappearing.
She admitted to pulling them out during a tense part of a book she was reading.  She agreed to stop, and began wearing gloves to bed to help herself remember not to pluck.
Then there were no eyelashes left.  And her eyebrows started to disappear.
That's when she said she needed help.  She was stressed out abuot school.  She was stressed out about her sister (who insists on living life as intensely as she can).  She was embarrassed about her vanishing hair.
I called the doctor, and then the school to find someone to talk to her.
I was assured that it was a parenting issue, and that I should handle it at home. 
I looked it up online and found that, undoubtedly, she had developed something called "trichotillomania", or the compulsive desire to pull out her own hair.  She described the urges just the way the websites do.  It's essentially a cross between OCD and a nervous habit.  When she's bored or stressed out, she develops an overwhelming urge to remove hair.  If she doesn't comply, she has a panic attack.  I repeatedly tell her she's not in any trouble at all, but I'd like her to try and wait just a little longer before giving in.  (Preferably forever, but I *think* that will come in time) 
Eventually we managed to get in to see a psychologist.  She was very nice, very reassuring, but she says she can't help.
Although the Mayo Clinic does indicate that imbalances of dopamine and seratonin (which, interestingly enough, can also effect migraines) can play a part in trichotillomania, she disagrees.  It's stress.  We just need to destress her life.  Which I'm happy to do, and reluctant to try meds even if they are indicated.

I just thought it was ironic.  After all these years of pulling out MY hair (figuratively speaking) while working with doctors to slowly discover that in truth..,it's not "just stress" that makes me miserable; sometimes...well, sometimes it really IS just stress.
Trichotillomania just happens to be one of those times.

Stress + Stress

About 18 months ago, July of 2009, I posted about the family stomach bug.  The one that the kids seemed to eventually recover from, but I just never really did.  Well, eventually I figured I was probably close to normal.  What is normal, anyways?  Other than an absence of being 'worse than usual'.
It turns out that somewhere between then and now, I developed a bacteria known as H Pylori.  Ironically, this bacteria was originally called "stress" and is the number one cause of ulcers.
Diagnosis was really easy.  Luckily, my dr did think to run the blood test and it was positive.
The next step should be relatively straightforward.  A triple whammy attack of 2 antibiotics and a proton pump inhibitor.
Of course...I had 2 questions.  What's the PPI for?  And "Is there corn in that?"
The answers were not so straight forward.  I'm uncomfortable that the answer to "What's the PPI for?" was 'That's the standard treatment, we find it works.'
I know it's just me.  But I like to know WHY.  And the answer of "You just don't understand" gets under my skin.  Of course I don't understand!  Why else would I ask?
And then it comes to corn.  The list is quite long.
It encompasses a large number of potential names.  I don't react to the protein.  I don't know why.  I'm not willing to study it too much further...not on myself.  Not after dealing with it and learning more, and accepting what I've learned over a full 7 years.
7 years.
It's a long time.  It's been a long process.  You'd think after so many years I'd understand what was going on.  I'd be able to navigate any system.
But I didn't count on a system that doesn't recognize or respect the acknowledgment of prior doctors, of unusual situations.  I spent 4 days visiting with the pharmacy.
I was reassured.  Placated.  Confidently soothed.  But I didn't feel validated or respected.
That's scary, and it makes me feel rebellious. 
But the bottom line was that the ER was accessible.  If I end up there they can do something.
There's nothing else they could offer.  The dr says to talk to the pharmacist, the pharmacist says the doctor makes the call.  They called the manufacturers and asked if corn was used in the process.  They couldn't tell me if they ascertained "any corn derivatives" or if they specified starch as well as protein.  The stress of going to the pharmacy on a daily basis for less than 10 minutes with the pharmacist before they walked away was getting to me.
The end result is that the decision was up to me.  I could trust them, and take medication that may or may not help.  And was likely to make me nauseous and crampy by it's very nature.  Or, I could not take it.
H Pylori is common.  It doesn't always cause symptoms.
But I'm symptomatic and I'm getting depressed.  (from the symptoms...seriously?  If you lived on rice because your stomach was volatile, you'd probably get depressed, too.)   So, I took the meds.   At least, I took them until I gagged on them, and couldn't keep them down.
Then I stopped taking the one I was most suspicious of (omeprazol, the PPI) and continued...much more successfully...with the antibiotics.  I figured that vomiting undigested meds wasn't helping me any.  So taking the antibiotics alone was better than nothing.
My colon still feels like it's been beaten to a pulp.  Mostly because of the charlie-horses that set in not long after the meds took effect.  Typical corn response, for me.  I'm still having occasional tightness of breath, but that was one my complaints before...so who knows if it's corn related?  I have chills, but it's pretty cold.  Still struggling with nausea and lack of appetite.  The itchiness has finally subsided.  (Mostly.)  I don't seem to have actually hived out.  I've slept 16 hours a day (at least) for the past 2 weeks and I'm still tired. 
But I'm thankful that the antibiotics are over, and I'm crossing my fingers that once the corny reaction finishes working it's way through, maybe I'll be able to enjoy the holidays.
It seems like I've missed spending time with family and friends a lot the past few years.  

The Kernel of Fear

For about a year now, we've had a leaky bathtub faucet.  I've been assailed by guilt whenever the radio reminds me to turn off the tap while flossing, reprimanded by my kids for wasting water while waiting for it to heat and lain awake listening to the drip-drip-drip.
It's not that I didn't want to repair it.  As soon as I realized it couldn't flip all the way off, I got on the phone and the landlord sent a plumber out.
Unfortunately...he couldn't twist the faucet off the wall because it had rusted together with the pipes behind the wall.  "No problem," I was assured, "We just go in from behind.  It'll take a day, two at the most." 
Well...behind that wall was a massive china cabinet, with every piece of china and breakable knick-knack that I had any desire of keeping intact.  In the interest of protecting those breakables, the whole thing had been tightly bolted to the wall.  Which would take a day or two to reposition by itself.
I'll admit, I hid behind this feat for much longer than necessary.

Why?

The fear of corn.
You see, in order to get to the pipes, they needed to slice through the wall.  When they were through, they needed to replaster the wall, patching up the drywall.  And there's corn in that. 
Cornstarch makes a handy adhesive that doesn't appeal to bugs.  (Hm, I wonder why?  Maybe they instinctively suspect that it's dangerous?)  Interestingly enough, I've heard that there's wheat starch in some drywall compounds, too.  Of course, gypsum is the main ingredient.  But there's corn, too.
And where there's corn, there's pain.
They'd be filling my house with cornstarch, turning off my water, and taking over the bathroom.  While I hung out, smiling politely and asking if there was anything I could do to help besides stay out of the way. 

Knowing my reactions to corn, this just built the dread.  And the longer it's gone on, the bigger the tower of dread.  I huddled in the shadow of it, thinking.  I hate missing events.  I was too sick to go to the science fair last year.  I was miserable through at least one concert, and passed out on my husband's shoulder when a woman wearing too much ethyl-based perfume sat down next to me at a concert.  I bloat up to a 5 month pregnant belly just walking past the kettle corn booth.  And let's not talk about what happens when food hits the irritated areas of my intestines.  We'll leave it at, I want to be home alone for that.  I was home alone for that the first time the landlord called to schedule things.  I leaned my forehead against the cool ceramic side of the bathtub, listened to the "drip, drip, drip" of the faucet, and immediately decided I didn't care.  I pleaded stomach flu, and put off rescheduling for um...well...yes, a whole year. 

Home is my refuge.  My safe space.  My bubble.
I let certain things in, take calculated risks.  But...we make sure they aren't airborne risks.
Sawing through drywall would create airborne corn.  To settle on the counters.  The table.  The pots and pans hanging on the wall. 

Now, I try not to let corn dictate my life any more than it already needs to by virtue of it's presence.  But...this...This was different.  It meant a lot more invasion.  It meant nowhere to hide for an indeterminable amount of time.

I'm glad to say that we finally dealt with it.  Our kind landlord found a lovely, no frills gentleman who looked at the job that I was assured would take nothing less than a full days work, assuming nothing went wrong once they got into the wall, simply nodded and said he could do it.  He didn't elaborate.  He arrived at noon.  I hid in my room as I heard the sawing commence immediately.  Not long afterward, the faucet clanged into the bathtub (Which is just outside the door to my room).  After about 3 hours, he was spackling up the patch on the wall.  And we opted not to paint, since that area is generally covered by a piece of furniture anyways.

I've been corned.  But not as badly as it could have been.  Not nearly as badly as my nightmares warned me.  The worst part is actually the discomfiture I feel inside.  The massive emotional reaction I've had to the whole incident.  The dread, the memories of whispering responses through cramps as I try to smile politely.  The fear of being mid-reaction when he showed up. (It would just be embarrassing.  I know, I know.  Grow up and deal with it.  But...) I lived through similar experiences just fine.  So why do they haunt rather than reassure?  How could I have let this go on for a year because of a simple fear?  (There were plenty of other things to focus on, so it's not like the tub was the only thing on my mind for the past 365 days, but still.  You'd think I'd have acted sooner.) 

I can't really justify, only acknowledge that corn in particular can wreak havoc with your emotions.  It makes a person feel paranoid.  Seeking bananas or eggs from a "safe" source can make you feel like you have OCD.  Taking great pains to keep the corn free dishes isolated from a few drips of citric acid enhanced tomato sauce or even a few crumbs of enriched flour, doesn't improve that image much.  And I don't know about others, but when I take a step back, my precautions always seem ludicrous.  But when I let go and try to act normal...I get sick.
Not just "Ugh, that didn't sit right.  Hopefully I'll be in for lunch" kind of sick, but an ongoing, slow recovery, frequent backsliding kind of sick. 
After a few brushes with trust and food, or just breathing, it seems relatively fair to be paranoid.  
It's enough to make you crazy.  But, as this incident has reminded me, even when grounded in cold hard truth...fear can't dictate your life. 

When cows are fed with corn instead of grass, they produce more of the harmful toxin, e. coli.  This is caused by improper breakdown of the starches, since cattle are designed by nature to chomp grass not leftover grains.  Of course, when they do eat a primarily grain fed diet, their flesh is better marbled with fat...so it appears more desirable to the decadent meat eaters. 

(I wonder if part of the reason unhealthy meat appeals to us is that somewhere deep inside our primitive selves remember that we aren't supposed to destroy healthy, strong, vital animals...we are supposed to strengthen other species by taking down the weak and preying on the less healthy.) 

I also wonder if the same is true for human diet?  Maybe not so much over abundance of E Coli (we might notice that?) but other inhospitable organisms.  Like the kinds that may (or may not) be linked to Crohns disease, and other Inflammatory Bowel Disease.  Or simply an overgrowth of bad bacteria that leads to an epidemic of IBS?

Of course, I'm not a doctor.  The two probably aren't related.  A professional would surely tell you...it's just stress.  Maybe what we really should ask is who's stress matters most...ours, or that of the animals we eat?

I only have a moment tonight. But I want to post a tidbit from a current read: "Our Stolen Future" by Colborn, Dumanoski and Myers.
On pg 191-192, they are discussing the potential effects of PCBs in contaminated fish on children whose parents ate said fish. A psychologist named Helen Daly has been studying behavioral changes in rats fed Lake Ontario fish. The expected results of her test (which involved feeding a small group of rats a diet 30% fish) was that the diet would turn them into dummies. It would affect their brains and intelligence level. This seems a plausible expectation for the consumption of toxic chemicals.
However, they found behavioral changes that were unexpected. While there were no signs of learning deficits, indicating that intelligence levels were not adversely effected, the rats showed distinct behavioral changes. Standard testing showed decreased activity.
This behavioral change has been demonstrated repeatedly.
Rats fed a diet of 30% contaminated fish (fish that have been raised in Lake Ontario) over react to even mildly negative situations. Daly describes them as "Hyper-reactive". When comparing hteir reactions to humans, Daly is quoted as stating "Every little stress will be magnified."
Some studies done on children with high known levels of exposure have indicated a possible correlation to human experience.

Does this remind anyone else of Sensory Processing/Integration Disorders? Or Highly Sensitive Children?

PCBs aren't only found in fish. They were used as plasticizing agents in paint, flexible plastic coating for electrical wires, caulking agents, dusting products, flame retardants, adhesives and pesticide extenders. They do not degrade readily, so are still present in our environment. They tend to accumulate in lakes and rivers, where they bind with plant life and are consumed by sea life. The higher the animal on the food chain, the higher the concentration of PCBs and other chemical contaminants. (Interesting side note: PCB production was taken over in 1929 by non other than our beloved Mons*nto, the GM corn giants.)

One of Daly's most disturbing findings is that pcb effects are seen in second generation rats. So if rat generation A eats PCB laden fish, generation B is affected, but fed only a carefully monitored diet of PCB free fish, the researchers are still seeing abnormal reactions in generation C.

In other words, what scientists unleashed on our grandparents is haunting us today. What we do with our bodies, wittingly or unwittingly, will continue to affect our grandchildren regardless of whether we are here to play a part in it.

Of course, this has nothing to do with corn. But it's interesting all the same.
In the end it's still just stress. Stress on our environment, stress on our bodies, stress on our children. However, these studies show that somehow we may be inhibiting their inborn ability to handle stressful situations.

This isn't an answer. But it sure seems like a significant piece of many puzzles our society faces.

Emotional Impact

I've now been gluten free for 4 years. And corn free for 6. Active in the food allergy cyber world for a little longer, as I began to delve into the world of food mediated reactions. After all, it takes a lot of courage to admit that something as benign and emotionally charged as food (especially so-called 'health food') could possibly be the root of physical pain. Especially when people are telling you the real problem is located a wee bit above the digestive organs.
In this time, I've seen plenty of other patients come and go along the food avoidance forums. And they all seem to share distinct traits, in shock, indignation, anger and feelings of being overwhelmed. There appears to be a cycle of grief involved in the process of food allergy diagnosis.
To that end, I've put together the following based solely on my observations as someome with no medical training, just a patient who reads and thinks. :-)

They say that there are 7 stages of grief that one must go through whenever they experience a loss. Usually this is discussed in terms of death or divorce. The process is often applied to people who live through disasters, such as fire or severe floods.
Food allergies don't exactly compare to fire, famine, or the loss of a loved one.
But they do constitute a major life change.
When you are diagnosed with food allergies or intolerances past infancy, they become a learning process. Life as you know it has changed, and favorite comfort foods may be lost. There is a grieving process to be gone through.
Few studies have been undertaken to truly study this process. And most professionals are still struggling to separate the emotional complications of medically restricted diets from those of eating disorders. Although the fundamental fear of food is the same, one side has a rational reason and the other (theoretically) has a somewhat irrational fear.
A few publications have dared to publish the deepest, darkest fears of food allergy sufferers. Most stick to the safe surface area. Wow, what do you eat? Wow, how would you survive? And of course, the heartfelt "Hurray, my life is different but it rocks, just the same."
But support groups know the truth. Newbies join online forums and dare to ask, in the safety of anonymity, 'Is this normal?'

Yes.

The stages of grief, as identified by grief counselors are as follows:

1. Shock and Denial. In the world of food allergies, this may mean not wanting to admit that the identified food really is the cause of reactions. Or that the reactions aren't "that bad". Or "Oh, well, at least I can take tomorrow off," and then take a risk. After all they "aren't as bad as some have it..."

2. Pain and Guilt. When the reality of a new style of eating starts to set in, there is a moment (or repeated moments) of panic. We think of pizza, ice cream, coffee creamer, doughnuts and other treats as necessities. How will we live without our favorite comfort foods? What will we do when we "have to" eat out?
For parents, the guilt sets in. What did we do wrong? Surely we should have been able to protect our beloved kids from the pain of exclusion. They deserve a "normal" life. At this stage, we aren't ready to reevaluate the meaning of normal. That process comes with acceptance.

3. Anger and Bargaining. We get angry at ourselves, our doctors, our bodies, even mother nature. Why should we have to suffer? Maybe we make bargains with ourselves. "If we let ourselves/our child cheat just this once, next time we'll be good." The consequences are usually enough to keep that phase from lasting very long. But if allergies are lie threatening, it can be a dangerous phase. And when it overlaps with the denial phase, or different caregivers hit different phases at the same time, it can be dangerous.

Some parents and siblings may also feel anger towards a child whose restrictions make a major impact on family life. While these feelings are normal, they should be short lived and should not cause any backlash against the child. Spouses, likewise, may feel anger towards the afflicted spouse. Again, the feelings are normal, but if they cause any retalliation against the afflicted one, outside help is needed.

4. Depression/loneliness. This phase tends to represent acceptance of the restrictions. It can be overwhelming. This is the phase where a patient, or an allergy patient's family, may withdraw. Its easier. It's safer. It's also when they need the most support.

5. The Upward Turn. At this point, there is some small success. A cake that tastes good, a compliment on some potluck dish, or the end of a successful evening out. I'll list it as separate, although it often is looped with the next two phases, and for many the first 5 appear to be relived repeatedly.

6. Reconstructing and Working Through: Depending on the food restriction,

7. Acceptance and Hope. This phase never ends. Although there will be backsliding, and occasional slips back to stages 3 and 4, on occasion as far as 2 or even back to denial (especially after feeling really well for a long period of time), once one has reached a point of acceptance, reachieving this stage seems easier and quicker each time.


Using and accepting these phases is vital to reaching a healthy balance in living with food restrictions, not just for the person affected by the restriction personally but for their close family members. There are separations and even incidents of divorce when one family member has trouble getting past feelings of denial or anger. Of course, this can increase feelings of guilt (especially for children) and depression or isolation (especially for parents dealing with nontraditional allergies and delayed reactions). A support system is vital.

Symptoms are not caused by stress. And simply eliminating a single offending food or group of foods is not always enough to alleviate all symptoms. There are remaining physical ailments (from digestive damage and malnutrion caused by years of eating the wrong foods) and there will be a variety of emotional stages. Acknowledging the grieving process is part of the road to complete healing. A wide variety of emotional feelings are normal in the course of diagnosis and learning to live with an allergy. And setbacks are normal, too.

Of course, it's just stress.

I have, again, been diagnosed with...Stress.

I went into the doctor with abdominal and menstrual complaints. I couldn't decide if I needed a gynecologist for the constant period or a GI for the ensuing stomach issues. I settled on my PCP when I broke out in a rash on top of it all.

And, after taking enough blood to twice collapse my vein (although the phlebotomist was awesome and I didn't even pass out this time) and doing a pelvic ultrasound to examine the female organs (during which I *did* pass out, oddly. Something about drinking too much water on a hot day...) The nurse called with good news.

I'm perfectly healthy.

Which, I guess, explains why I'm so tired and nauseous.

Now what?

The Tie That's Stressed

When we take our vows, most of us think of them romantically. For better or worse (Insert image of him snoring, or an image of her frantic scrubbing when the in-laws are due.) For richer or poorer (Image of Caroline Ingalls leaving the cushy town life to follow Charles into the Big Woods, the Prairie and so on.) In sickness and in health. (An image of an elderly couple entering a retirement home together).

But very few of us are lucky enough to stay healthy until we're a ripe old age. And for some of us, that "sickness and in health" bit doesn't just refer to the common cold. Nor does it mean anything out of a Nicholas Sparks novel.

When diagnosed with food mediated illness, most people are given a few dietary pointers, a reassuring smile and a few lists to bring with them to the grocery store. They can buy as many cookbooks as they want and there are many support groups out there to help them learn to navigate society with a food restriction. But there aren't many guidebooks that address how devastating a food restriction can be to your relationship.

Your marriage partner signs up to love you despite your faults (and sometimes because of them.) He (or she) is supposed to be the rock that you lean on when you just aren't strong enough to go it alone, and in return, you are supposed to be healthy and strong when they need you most. This give and take is tantamount to any relationship.

So, what happens when one partner suddenly can't hold up their end of the bargain, for an extended period of time? Both partners are frustrated. The dishes don't get washed, the laundry isn't done "right" and a few bills might slip through the cracks. Tension mounts. Eventually, one or the other may get fed up.

It can be especially frustrating when a diagnosis takes a long time coming. Celiac Disease can take 11 years, on average, to diagnose. One study found that half the patients involved had suffered for 28 years from unexplained symptoms and abnormal lab results before finally being properly diagnosed. Although education among doctors is rising, and they are slowly chipping that average down, years upon years of "stress" diagnosis and trips to the hospital (not to mention the innumerable pit stops) wear a person, and a couple, down. The suffering partner may begin to doubt themselves, or distance themselves. They are embarassed at their weakness and their physical symptoms. (No one, and I do mean No One, wants their lover to know how much time the need to spend in the bathroom. Any abdominal attack is a huge romance killer.)

The healthy partner may be frustrated by their own helplessness, and after awhile start to resent their suffering counterpart. After all, most people bounce back after a bout of the flu. So why aren't they? They may harbor secret fears that there's something more sinister about the malady, or they may take the low road and suspect that the real culprit lies somewhere in the head, rather than the gut. Such a diagnosis is devastating to someone who is suffering.

Not only is it miserable to be sick day in and day out, but the one person you should be able to count on, the one person who you can let your hair down in front of and break down in tears of frustration or rage against the latest doctor who shrugged you off is your spouse. And if they suddenly "take sides" against you, then you really start to feel like it might be hopeless.

Then comes the diagnosis. There is elation, for both parties. There is an adjustment period. And for some, that's all there is. Sure, it will take two to prepare dinners and both spouses will need to double check ingredients and be willing to make sacrifices, but there's hope.

Unfortunately, not all couples are able to come together and be made stronger by suffering. And the resultant dietary restrictions (which impact the freedom of eating out, the customary food bonding rituals, the parties and many holiday traditions) make it difficult to find common ground. Most magazine articles dealing with the subject of how to re-connect suggest relaxing with a regular date night. A relaxing dinner out is great for some...but not if your allergies are severe or if you're still learning how to manage them. For dietary-restricted individuals, a restaurant meal can be a nightmare. And it certainly won't bring you closer if you can't relax.

There are numerous counselors who suggest that a spouse spontaneously bring dinner home, another nightmare. Chocolate? Well, if he gets the "wrong one" she might end up crying, and not with happiness.

Dinnertime conversation can be difficult as well. After years of suffering, and then a period of learning, food restrictions may be paramount in your mind or theirs. There is a steep learning curve, and most people share what they are learning and excited about. (Trust me, it's exciting to learn that you aren't "just" stressed.) Sometimes that learning period lasts longer for one spouse or the other.

Parents of food allergic kids have the added stress of trying to balance their approach to the restrictions. One parent may focus on simply keeping the child safe, while the other wants to make sure that they don't "miss out" on life. And sometimes, one parent takes a stronger role in educating themselves in the restriction. There are many cases where a parent of a food allergic child chooses to "fight" the diagnosis, to the child's danger and obviously the detriment of the marriage. Our allergist says he hates being called as a witness in custody disputes, because he doesn't know which parent is right. He can only state in a court of law the same thing he's told both parents in person...avoid the offending substance.

And yet, still there remains little emotional support for those who are dealing with food restrictions, especially food allergies. There are groups such as FAAN and POFAK; but these focus on educating the masses and encouraging the food allergy sufferer to continue to live. Very little effort is put into preserving a relationship.

After all, it's just food. And once you know the problem, you're healed. It sounds easy. And from a simply medical standpoint, it is. Problem identified, treatment initiated. Problem solved.

Well, one problem is solved, but that problem opens the door to several more.

I've known several people who go through a divorce or end a long term relationship and cite their food restrictions as the final straw, if not the trigger. Many healthy partners feel that they didn't "sign up" for dietary changes and restrictions. They have their own pressures in daily life.

They don't seem to see that just because their loved one is suffering doesn't mean that they can't be a sounding board. And they may have spent a long time dreaming about "when things get back to normal". Not only are they needing to adjust to the their partner's new diet, they have to deal with the staunch reality that it will never be "the same". Their dreams need to change, too. They need a mourning period, and unfortunately, they usually feel guilty for it.

I wonder why there aren't more support groups for spouses of food allergic individuals? Or couples counselling designed for couples who are dealing with dietary restrictions. Googling has revealed very little on the subject. Even asking for help just dealing with the emtional aspect of food restrictions reveals that there is not nearly enough known about the psychological aspects of not only imposing self will to protect yourself from well meant peer pressure (Pizza! Ice Cream!) but a prolonged misdiagnosis of "stress" or "eating disorder".

If we really want to help people with food restrictions, we need to address all their needs, and work with the loved ones who are supporting them, too.

Its not just food

I have a food allergy. But some days, it feels like food allergy has me. For some, allergies are simple. Avoid the offending food. There are a few (or a multitude of) safe foods readily available. Once the offending food has been identified, you adjust and go on with your life.

But for me, my "allergy" goes beyond the norm. Avoiding the offending food has given me so much...and showed me how much this "allergy" took away. I never realised how much my life changed. 6 years ago, my symptoms began interfering with my life and the Doctors told me to take some time off, get a maid, relax. I was just completeing a college degree, so I did. Take time off that is. The maid was out of the question. I never dreamed that the few weeks I gave myself would turn into years.

I focused on my daughter, and called my spells stress. I quit going to restaurants because I didn't like racing for the bathroom midmeal (or wishing I could). I had spells at home, too, but they didn't make an impact since I could easily deal with them. I would bring a stack of books to bed and curl up with my kids and a heating pad. I encouraged my husband to go out to dinner with friends, and catch a movie afterwards, because I didn't want him to see me like that. (I playacted pretty well, too, he never really "got" what was wrong.) The movie theatre made me nausous, and gave me hot flashes that I attributed to stress or anxiety. I shopped around my body's symptoms. I dreaded appointments of any kind. I avoided eating when I could, or tried to snack all day. I sought the perfect diet, and said I'd feel better tomorrow.

And then, I cut out corn. Which led to cutting out gluten. I finally understood why someone might schedule dinner before the prom started (besides that masochist theory I held in High School) As I spend more pain free, or at least limited pain days, I find my mind clearing. I realise that walking around the block should not be a daunting task. And that I ought to be able to schedule volunteer time, or a birthday party without worrying what my body will do to me. Its not that I don't want to be there...I just don't want to feel my knees buckle beneath me, or the breath squeezed from my chest because I've pushed myself just a little too far. I especially don't want to reach the end of my limited rope in public. Again. And the fear is very real, based in experience. Its always harder to get over a rational fear than an irrational one.

I find myself frustrated with my physical limitations. I can feel energized and excited, but if I inadvertently pass my limits, I'm immediately reprimanded. Whether its nausea or starting to faint, its not pleasant. Yet, still I'm tempted to press my limits. Tempted, and terrified. Every so often, I still have a corn incident and lose half my progress. Some allergens hide, everywhere.

Whats worse, I find that it wasn't just me thats been affected. My family's been hurt. I avoided family celebrations because I was sick...years in a row. When I make it, now, they're surprised to see me. I tried not to let them see how bad I felt, until I collapsed. And its hard for them to understand why I don't just bounce back. I can't explain it, I don't think I understand it myself.

My husband, and our relationship, has suffered the most. As I look at myself through his eyes, I realize that he felt pushed away. To him, I was active as a mother, as a stay at home parent. Now the kids are growing and he doesn't understand why that energy doesn't switch back to other endeavors, the dreams we held in the beginning.

For me, its not just a food allergy. My way of life is different than the average Americans. My food is cooked mostly from scratch, if I'm running late on dinner, there is no drive through or pizza man to the rescue. Fostering friendships is a challenge, since in our society the "norm" is to go for a cup of coffee, or meet up for lunch. I still dread social eating, though if I'm careful it doesn't attack me.

I don't know if its "just" the physical reactions I have to food, my doctors insist they don't know. But I do know that allergies are not something to be blown off. Whether they require an epi pen to ward off fatal reactions or "just" cause symptoms, food allergies are real. And they impact so much more than what you can eat.