As any allergy sufferer knows, allergy friendly foods don't come cheap. The more varied your avoidance list, and the stronger your sensitivity, the more brand loyal you become. And the most allergy friendly companies are often the ones rarely on sale.
Luckily, whole foods are healthy foods, and many are relatively the cheap. Labor intensive, but bank book friendly. Most people who have dietary restrictions try to balance their diets with fun, packaged preprepared safe foods that might cost exponentially more than the safe counterpart and cheap, healthy, labor intensive ingredients. Many find themselves "stuck" following a healthier diet that way.
And others are completely price tag blind when it comes to food.
In our house, food is an ongoing struggle.
There are 4 individuals. One needs to lose weight, and has no will power. (well, very little anyways. But I love him anyway.) He's the one often taking over food prep or presentation, when I'm not up for it. One has very few food restrictions; is exceptionally picky, and is a perfect weight. Two are avoiding gluten (among other things) and need to gain. One of them is also avoiding corn, in charge of all cooking and budget keeping...and dealing with stomach issues on an ongoing basis.
Hopefully you can visualize the bones of the problem here...variety and options. When Bumblebee wants to live off of toast and jam, not only is that not healthy but it takes an extra layer of thought to keep her happy, fed, and the rest of us safe.
Now, we've done fairly well with budgeting so far. It's hard...but we figure the trade off is that our expensive meals come to under $15...and for a family our size to eat out is probably at least twice that, depending on where we went and whether the kids drink juice, soda or water.
However, lately we've slipped a bit. Mr Violets has been packing more lunches, and picking up odds and ends from the grocery store. And I've been blissfully ignorant of the potential ramifications. Until the credit card bill arrived and knocked me off my feet.
This opened a dialogue on what exactly the kids have been finding in their lunches.
And wait a minute...how many loaves of gluten free bread are you buying a week?
It's a miracle we can still make rent.
(Getting angry at your husband for helping out around the house isn't always a good move, by the way. It raises his hackles and hurts his feelings.)
Mr Violets' response was that we needed groceries. He's been running to the store every time Penguin ran out of bread or bagels, he's been making sure we have enough squeezy applesauce in the cupboard (Which, he might add, I don't even buy enough to get through a full week!), he's been the one tossing crackers and green beans and bars into lunch bags. I should be grateful.
(Girls? What happens to those bars? Wide eyes. Gulp. Shift weight from one foot to the other. Whispers. "Well, X really likes them. And so, um, sometimes I take a bite and then...it's already open. So I don't want to throw it away..." That's enough. That's okay. You're not in trouble.)
So...in the end, we've been spending expensive bagged lunches to school with the girls so they could give away the good stuff. Grumble.
I had to take a few steps back to see why Mr. Violets was getting so defensive. Why couldn't he see that spending a fortune on food was a huge problem?
"It's just money," he said, "I'll make more."
And later "If that's what it costs, that's what it costs. It's a sacrifice we have to make. We can't let her starve."
This is where I began to realize we were fighting two different fights.
To him, the grocery budget is not a budget. We need food, we buy food. We buy what the kids will eat, what they want, what we want. We splurge on candy or cookies. But basics? Protein, beans, grains? Those are free foods. We buy as many as we "need". For me to put a limit on something as basic as bread (and casein free cheese) is akin to attacking his ability to provide.
I was having trouble explaining that I look at the prepackaged options. I break the meals down into dollars and cents. Sure, applesauce in a squeeze is fun. But at a dollar a pop, it isn't an everyday snack food. It goes into lunches once a week. So that there are room for other once a week snack foods. Potato chips, protein bars, yoghurt. (Coconut yoghurt may taste better than soy but it's nearly twice as much. Making it a yummy TREAT that happens to be healthy. Not a necessity.) We can't consume the cheap calories half their friends are spilling across the lunchtables. That doesn't mean we can afford the look alike comparisons for our kids to *spill across the lunch table*. We can afford plenty of options. Plenty of calories. Plenty of safe, delicious, healthy food.
Just not a lot of "normal" cheap and easy fundamentals.
I may not be expressing myself well. But the next few months we are tightening the grocery reins, Bumblebee will fuss and scream and our guilt mode will be on high alert as the neighbors tsk and tut about the "poor child whose evil mother starves her" (I feed her. Food is on the table. Snacks are in the cupboard. Even on a budget, there will be appropriate food available to the tearful, tantruming, heartbreaking child who has everyone she meets enchanted.) Penguin will happily scarf down whatever bits and pieces I come up with, giving vivid descriptions of what's right and wrong with my cooking. (most of it boiling down to 'a little bit of real cheese and corn...I'm sorry Mommy, but I think something with corn in it would maybe help') Mr. Violets will endeavor to learn the difference between "fun healthy food" and cheap basics.
And me...well, I'm going to have to work even harder on this whole meal planning thing. We have a bit of a plan with tuna casserole on Fridays, and chicken and rice on Tuesdays. Leftovers Saturday and Wednesday. But that leaves 3 days. And a hungry Bumblebee. (Who will stare at either meal and wait patiently until we're ready to serve her something different.)
Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationship. Show all posts
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Sunday, October 18, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, December 16, 2006
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.
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.
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