Recently, an author I follow posted a lovely infographic (which I don't know how to snip and share appropriately) about how small amounts of allergen can be fatal.  She mentioned living in fear of something so small taking your life.

The thing is, I don't want to live in fear.  Knowledge is power, and fear is sort of an anti-power.  It's a weapon used against the masses, and it's getting out of hand.

Yes, I have allergies.  And yes, a very small amount of allergen can make me miserable.  And yes, I've had breathing issues and I've been told anaphylaxis may be an issue.  But does that mean I have to live in fear?

I could.  I could bury myself in my room, and never leave.  I could stop eating anything that didn't come from my garden.  I could let it escalate, and grow, until I was paralyzed.  It would be an easy thing to do.

But you know what I do instead, even though it's hard?  I go to the store, week after week, and trust companies not to change ingredients without telling me.  I visit people's houses, sometimes in a mask, and hoping they don't react poorly.  Trusting them not to have just popped popcorn or used cornstarch or overused cleaning supplies.  Eating, in general, is hard.

But I do it.  A lot of people I know do the same thing.  Throwing themselves out there, trusting food.  Sometimes successfully, sometimes not.  The more "nots" that we have, the harder it gets but we persevere.

Because what else are you going to do?  You need calories, and growing them all ourselves isn't an option.  It seems silly to those who have never had reason to mistrust food.  But after being burned repeatedly, it takes someone strong to keep going out there and trying.  That's why we need transparency in labeling.  That's why we need clear food labels that tell us what we're buying, how it was grown, and clear answers about packaging (Which can be dusted with cornstarch, for those not in the know).

We can't eliminate all allergens.  But we can make all allergens easier to live with.  

More than a label

We like labels.
Labels help us to understand individuals.  They help us to understand ourselves, to get the help we need and are instrumental in getting the accommodations needed for school or life.  Labels can be a good thing, but we often go a step too far.
Labels are only post it notes, they help us to understand our differences but they don't, and should never be expected to, define us.
I experience food allergies and chronic digestive symptoms.  I am not my symptoms, nor my restrictions.
However, I find that I feel like I am of less value to society because of my unique situation.  And, as I talk to others in similar situations, I discover that they also feel inferior due to their restrictions.  Inexplicably, we also at times feel like martyrs because despite our symptoms life must go on.  So we shower, take whatever symptom limiting medication we can tolerate, and put on our masks.  Public faces, with forced smiles (carefully practiced to appear natural), and borrowed energy.  We box up our symptoms the best that we can and pretend to be normal.
Until we can't.
And then we need to own up to our symptoms, our labels.  And then we become filed away under "potential liability," or "weird" or "crazy".
We can't access the world in the same way as others.  And our labels can either enable or entrap us.  Ironic isn't it?

Food Irony

Tonight I was preparing one of our favorite, or at least most frequent, meals.  Essentially I take whatever leftovers we have that sound good together, add some veggies, heat them up and scramble in a few eggs.  If Penguin is not planning on eating with us, I melt in a bit of cheese as well.

It's fast, easy, and also serves as comfort food.  It turns leftovers into a second serving (and there have been days where I make pasta or rice simply because I want to turn it into second servings)  As providence would have it, we've nicknamed this meal "hash" since it's pretty much a hash up of all the still edible leftovers and we never really get the same meal twice.

Not long ago, I was talking to my mom when I mentioned using leftovers again like fried rice.  Before I could get too far, she made a disgusted sound and said it reminded her too much of what her mom used to do.  Which was throw leftovers into a frying pan and scramble in an egg or two and call it hash.

My mom hated that meal when she was growing up.  And to be fair, I've seen some of the recipe booklets from the 50's and I swear, people back then had some very questionable tastes (Like lemon jello with chicken salad in it as a delicacy)  And my given diet is drastically different than theirs, namely that mine tends towards veggies and theirs would have been more meat and potato-ey.  So, it's quite possible that her version of hash and mine vary in appeal.  It's also possible that her leftovers were less than appealing to a young child to begin with; making the leftovers even less so.

Then again, maybe my version of hash will go down in the history books as unappealing goop.

At any rate, I love that my experimenting led me to create a meal that my mom never once considered serving because she found it so unappetizing as a kid.  And that I nicknamed it the same thing my grandmother named hers.  I've racked my brain and can't recall having hash; unless it was hash browns.  I do recall that my grandfather occasionally got a different meal than my brother and I and it may have been hash. But I never got a good look at it, and accepted that it was for grown ups.

Is my meal palatable?  Well, Mr Violets hasn't complained.  He's even offered to make rice so we could turn it into hash...So it can't be too bad.  The kids, however, reserve judgement.

Like most kids, they'd rather have pizza.  Even if it is gluten free and dairy free from a box.

Invisible Disabilities

It's so easy to judge.  In fact, sometimes it's an important facet of survival.  Our instincts about people and situations have been honed over generations to help keep us alive.  Our guts tell us when to stay and when to run.  They aren't always *right* instincts, but they are there for a purpose.
Unfortunately, this innate ability to judge can come with a high cost.  We stop thinking, cease to remind ourselves that behind a facade is a human being.  Pain isn't always written on their face, the potential of pain and suffering never is.  But it's still there.
We've come a long ways since the days of witch hunts, where individuals with various physical limitations were cast out as damaged by the devil or "marked" by witches.  We understand genetics and at least some medical conditions and agree that there are currently limits to medical science.  We see the person inside the body impeded by a wheelchair, put up signs in braille to help blind people find their dr's office in a large building, add ramps to buildings and paint curbs blue to make the world more accessible to those with limitations.
And yet we continue to judge.
We go on social media and rant about special snowflakes, we question the need for service animals for diabetics and epileptics and PTSD survivors.  We critique slow movers, and slow learners, and motorized scooter users.  We fail to see the person inside the every day individuals who are struggling.
We look at smiles and automatically, we see healthy individuals.  We don't know what's going on inside, but we assume that they have resources.  Can walk to the corner, volunteer an hour at the PTA fundraiser, make a few phone calls.  We assume that their resistance to any of these things is purely personal.
And sometimes it is.
But sometimes, there are deeper set objections.
People with food allergies may be reluctant to participate in food related affairs.  Maybe that's reasonable and maybe it's not, but they are the ones managing their symptoms and living with the consequences.
People with digestive disorders have unique needs and may be unreliable.
People with chronic pain may not be able to stand for 20 minutes at a time, or drive the carpool at the last minute, or might need to cancel plans so they can take a stronger pain killer, or just can't participate because their personal limitations have adjusted.
Some people may need help lifting groceries or children, or struggle to push a cart but otherwise look perfectly healthy.
However, we miss these problems because when people with limitations take care of themselves, they often appear "normal".

That, I think, may be the problem.  In our society, we have no problem helping those who are suffering.  What we struggle with is understanding that many of our accommodations and support systems are in place to prevent as much suffering as possible.  So, no, the lady with a rod in her back doesn't look like she's in constant agony.  But if she were to lean over and pull the cans of soup out of the bottom of her cart, she would be.
The person with dietary restrictions isn't laid up in bed every day, but only because they are managing their diet.  They aren't trying to spoil donut day.

When someone needs accommodations to function normally and appear "normal"; they have invisible disabilities.  It doesn't mean that they are any less of a person, just that they need to be a stronger self advocate.  It might also mean that they don't know exactly what they need to be successful, they only know some of the potential pitfalls.

We need to learn to accept these limitations that we don't see.  Even as someone struggling with "invisible disabilities" raising kids with the same issues, I'm struck by the ever present conundrum:  Everyone has issues.  We're no one special.  Except, we are still people.  We aren't trying to ask a lot to be included (maybe permission to bring our own food)  We still have a lot to contribute to society.  But only if we can figure out how to navigate our way despite our limitations.

Now, when I see someone roll their eyes about a "lazy" or "irresponsible" individual, I wonder if there is something else going on.  And I try to accept it.
Building a better world is the end goal for all of us, right?

Oversharing

Food allergies are never easy.  Adults and children alike struggle with how to navigate daily life; along with how much to share, how much to hide, and how much risk to take.

It's hard at any age.  

Kids can blame their parents.  But adults are left to justify their reactions, their risk management plans, their ongoing learning curve.  And in that justification, we sometimes over explain, over justify, over share.  It's not meant to be self centered.  It's not a plea for attention.  But sometimes, outsiders think it is.  

I've noticed that I'm not the only one who does this, and I'm pretty sure that others are saying the same thing I am.  Having a condition that affects my ability to eat freely makes me feel like I'm less.  Less valuable, less interesting, less desirable.  Intellectually, I know that my thoughts and insight are just as valuable as someone else's, but I also know that it's easier to connect with someone you understand.  And it's hard to bond with someone who can't share your or a cup of coffee with you.  It's awkward to go out to eat with someone who doesn't eat.  And when you can't even commiserate over calorie consumption and temptation, it's easier to just walk away.  

There was an episode of Charles in Charge (Am I the only one who watched that show?) where Charles and his girlfriend come home from an outing, arguing because she ordered salad off the menu and everyone else was having ice cream.  It made others feel bad about their choice to splurge while she sat there virtuously eating diet food.  

I think it's sometimes the same way with food allergies.  I don't indulge in pizza because I don't find bloating and vomiting to be indulgent.  But I recognize that the consequences would be different for someone else.  And I know that pizza tastes good.  When I can afford it, I don't hesitate to treat my kids to box of gluten free, dairy free, pizzeria made pizza.  (Yes, there is such a thing!  And I'm told it tastes better than the frozen version.)  

I don't drink coffee because it causes pain and discomfort which makes me less productive, rather than giving me that caffeine rush that adds to someone else's productivity.  But I can appreciate the desire for a treat that makes one feel more energetic, and fortifies you for the day.  If I could, I'd drink it; and I'd experiment with additions until I found the perfect blend.  But I can't.  I don't even dwell on it (outside of this blog post, that is)

But when I'm offered some, the whole scenario sometimes starts playing through my head.  I'd love some.  I can't.  Maybe this time...no.  Brain reminds me of pain, discomfort, I'll spare you the details.  I hesitantly say, "I wish I could..." and then the justifying begins.  I'm not anorexic.  That's not why I'm saying no.  Really.  I have these food allergies.  And I'm not just being paranoid.  Or, if I am, it's just because I've been burned so many times before.  Really.

And the more I get that look...the look of disbelief, the "uh, huh, sure", the twist of the mouth, the chewing of the lips followed by a polite smile, the more I want to keep talking and say things like, "Let me explain what I'm dealing with..."

In other words, I overshare.  It's pathetic, really.  I *think/hope* that I'm getting better.  I recognize it coming on and bite my tongue.  I see it in others and try not to cringe outwardly; I try to listen and actively respond.  I see through the oversharing to that tender center, the "please don't hate me, don't just walk away, I really wish..."  But I know others don't know what's behind the oversharing.  I've even heard them discussing it later, that man or woman who went on and on...Well.  That's what inspired this blog post.

So here it is.  In my personal, non professional, layperson's opinion, here is what someone is saying when they start oversharing about a medical condition you don't really care about:

"Don't judge me.  I'm doing the best I can.  I don't know how exactly to deal with what's wrong, but I'm trying to understand it.  Sometimes talking it through helps me deal.  Sometimes talking makes me feel less crazy, even if it makes me look crazier.  I feel vulnerable.  I feel judged.  I feel isolated and incompetent" (though why having to turn down a piece of candy or a cup of coffee might make me feel incompetent is beyond me.  It's still true.  I've found myself turning food down and then thinking that I shouldn't be there, someone else who can share and bond over junk food is somehow more qualified to be involved than I am.  I mean, I can't even eat normally...It doesn't make sense but there you have it.  Then you add in wearing a mask if popcorn or cornstarch is involved and I really feel out of place.)

Oversharing is a way of saying "Like me anyways.  I'm not really weird."

Several years in, I recognize this and am striving to embrace the weird.  Food allergies and the struggle to identify them have made me much more conscious about so many things.  Unfortunately, I have not grown more eloquent, and my awareness of multiple viewpoints only worsen my communication skills.  But I do try to embrace the weird and recognize that others simply aren't here.

And I wanted to share.  In case you, too, are struggling with oversharing, or know someone who is.  

The Friends Zone: Allergy style

Who hasn't heard of the Friend Zone?  I'm not talking about Ross and Rachel here, the Friend Zone is the place in a relationship where both parties are comfortable, it's that point in time when you don't really move forward because you have reached a defining level in your relationship.  Some people feel it's inescapable.

Today, this struck me as the perfect metaphor for food allergies, and even chronic symptoms.  I've reached the Friend Zone.  In allergy-speak, this isn't a terrible thing.  It means that I'm comfortable managing my diet around my needs.  I don't even stress about food events, or beg for a carefully footnoted ingredient list.  I already know that answer; and it's no.  No food prepared outside of my kitchen at this time.

But it's also a danger zone.  I'm taken aback by food offers from new friends and acquaintances.  It means that I have my safe food list, my comfort foods, and I'm not constantly trying to expand.  In short, it puts me in a rut.  Same old foods, prepared very similarly.

Likewise, when it comes to symptoms, there is a Friends Zone that isn't so great.  Kind of like an annoying neighbor who thinks you're best friends and you want to be polite to.  Or are forced to put up with.  They become so ingrained in our lives that we take them for granted and stop trying to change things.  We accept them as an inevitable negative part of life.

Recently, I was talking to a woman who has a teenage son with food allergies.  He's in a double friends zone; choosing to put up with symptoms and assuming they won't get worse.  I hope, for his sake, that they won't.  But I also couldn't help but wonder if the problem could be too much Zone.  A boring diet, no longer pushing to adjust and expand, coupled by an acceptance that this is just the zone.  What we know, what we grow used to.

As someone with food allergies, I don't want to be stuck in a zone.  Maybe I'll choose it now and then, but I don't want to be stuck with symptoms I can't explain (they're either related to hidden allergens, or caused by damage done by prolonged GI reactions).  I don't want to presume that my diet must be boring and bland, while "normal" people enjoy "normal" diets full of spice and pizzaz.

So, while I fully intend to adjust my diet this summer in search of answers, I've also decided to yank myself out of the Friends Zone.  Insist on spicing it up.  Add a little pizzaz.

If nothing else, I'm gonna sip my ginger water from a champagne flute once in awhile.  It feels inspirational.

Corn/allergen free Nausea Remedy

Lately I've been struggling with stomach issues.  I don't know if there's some low level of corn exposure (Although I suspect some environmental issues that I am having trouble mitigating); but there is definitely something not right going on.  I've lost weight, my digestive tract is out of sorts, they've pointed out that with my low weight some of my internal organs and the loops in my colon are being dragged downward with gravity and probably aren't helping anything.  Even though that's supposed to be a symptom free kind of thing.  It's "nothing to worry about".  But the nausea...the nausea drives me crazy!    

Anyways, a friend suggested a very simple recipe that has been a true gift.  It doesn't cure me, but like the queasy-beads dh gave me for Christmas, it definitely takes the edge off.  

Bonus: Entirely allergen friendly.  Unless you are allergic to ginger root.  

Ginger Water:  

1 piece of ginger root

Water

This is simply an infusion.  Mr Violets is awesome, and peels and dices a whole ginger root for me at a time so we can keep it in the freezer.  We take about 1/2-1 tsp and put it in a teaball.  Place the teaball in a 32 oz glass water bottle.  Fill with filtered water (room temperature or cold) and keep it in the fridge.  It's ready to drink after about 24-36 hours.  The tea ball/ginger need to be removed after day 3 or it starts to get bitter.  You can add honey or sugar, I'm loving it plain.  I imagine a bit of lemon or mint would go nicely, too.  

I don't know why I never thought of it before!  I've made tea, and chilled tea, but it isn't the same.  This is a lighter, more refreshing drink.  It's just so nice to have something to sip that isn't water! 

I was at the grocery store when a woman commented that she's trying to eat more healthfully, and wants to try meatless mondays.  The trouble is she just doesn't know how to make anything vegetarian taste good.  (She was studying a pack of soy hot dogs with a rather suspicious air)

I told her I thought the best thing to do was to start simple, and focus on foods that don't require fake meat to taste good or be "normal".  Maybe try vegetable lasagne instead of a meat version.
(How do you make it without meat sauce? -- the question seemed genuine.)
Or split pea soup? (Mmm, she thought she might have a hambone at home...)
Er...A lot of mexican food is actually traditionally meat free and low dairy...just use refried beans (You don't add ground beef?  She interrupted, scandalized.)
Um...Vegetable soup?  (Her trick is to use beef stock instead of vegetable boullion)

Well...what about a nice dinner salad once in a while?  (This seemed to puzzle her, so I continued)  You know...really jazz up a green salad with whatever extra veggies are in your fridge, dice a tomato and add some nuts or a sprinkle of canned beans...you could even chop up a hardboiled egg for protein.  But focus on the variety of veggies...I trailed off as her eyes lit up.
(And a bit of bacon crumbled on top!  That sounds divine.)
Um...Sure?

She then thanked me for my ideas.  She didn't realize there were so many vegetarian options out there.
I think I missed something...

I'm one in a million.
Statistically insignificant.
But irreplaceable.  Invaluable.  Priceless, unique.

Sometimes I find myself banging my head (lightly) against the wall as I'm trying to get through red tape.  It's not that I want to be treated special.  It's that my situation just doesn't jive with "normal".  But whose does?

I have a corn allergy (No one knows the odds on that one), I'm 1 in 133 gluten free.  I'm living on a limited income in a high cost of living area.  I'm mommy, wife, employee, online support advocate and girl scout leader.

One in a million.
Statistically insignificant.
But I matter.  I'm the only me.

I've dropped below a BMI of 18.  According to most information on the net, this is considered serious and may have some health risks.
According to the entire medical system I currently have access to, they'd rather see me skinny than overweight so they aren't concerned.  Even given my symptoms, which are deemed "functional" although they seem decidedly the opposite.
I've been advised to begin drinking soda, maybe snack on some potato chips.  Eat ice cream between meals.  Anything high in fat or sugar to help put the pounds back on.

I can't help but think that this is what's wrong with society.
It's not that I have anything against junk food in general.  I think it's great for special occasions.  But I know my body is not suffering from a sugar deficit.  And I know that there are minimal nutrients in food like potato chips.  And I was advised months ago, due to blood work, to lay off the sugar and fast food (that I don't eat).
I'm frustrated that pointing this out, respectfully, makes me seem obstinate and argumentative.  It seems to make the medical professionals I'm consulting for support respond in a defensive, dismissive manner.
I get that calories are important and it's easier to get a lot of calories from junk food, but maybe our doctors and nurses and nutritional consultants need to be looking at more than simple calories.  I read more and more articles online where nutrition is a focus.  People are looking for superfoods like kale and chia seeds to cure all woes.
In my opinion (as a not so healthy feeling probably not average American without a medical degree) we need to be seeking balance.  We need doctors and nurses and nutritionists who are more concerned about whole health and can look at a bigger picture, rather than 15 minutes stuff it in a box and move on to the next patient.  None of us are truly text book cases, and we'll make a lot more progress as a society if we think and put pieces together properly.

Otherwise we're just trading out health problems.  And I'm not sure I really prefer type 2 diabetes over "Huh, that's weird."  I'd rather get to the root of the problem and fix it.  Or at least not add new issues to old ones.  I've got a life to live here.

Nausea is the worst

I feel bad for saying this, even for thinking it.  But truly, some days nausea feels like the worst symptom.
I know there are people who have it worse.  I count my blessings nightly, kiss my kids and walk the dog, I say a silent prayer of thanks for what I have.
But I can't help but think that nausea is still just...miserable.

I have my allergies relatively under control.  My symptoms are new and probably "functional" which means, while I by no means am fully functional, my body technically has nothing wrong that needs treatment.

Whether your diagnosis is functional abdominal something, or IBS, or something more specific, the queasies are never fun.  They impact every area of your life, from baking to eating to socializing.  They may even impact your ability to work normally.

If you, like me, are struggling with stomach woes this year, just know that you aren't alone. The episodes are (hopefully) transient and short lived.  I won't say it could be worse because that doesn't help me.  But at least it isn't the end of the world.

For anyone else out there who is struggling, you probably have already had a list of recommendations that don't work.
I'm not going to say that there is an easy fix, or a one size fits all solution.  There isn't.  But, here are a few (corn free, gluten free as always) options that help take the edge off for me:

Ice water:  Something about really cold water makes it stay down better.  Small sips.  Sometimes pressing the glass to your wrists between sips helps, too.

Cold compress:  A cool compress on the wrists, inside the elbows or at the nape of the neck can be soothing.  And of course, if you're having those awful hot flash false fever things that sometimes accompany nausea, a cool cloth on the forehead never hurts.

Hot tea:  Depending on the day, hot tea can be soothing.  Small pieces of ginger can be simmered in water for 10-20 minutes to make ginger tea, or you can steep anise seeds for a licoricey taste.  Stir in a touch of sugar.  If you have a safe milk product to stir in, ginger tea tastes better with some creamy texture.  But if you don't, that's perfectly okay too.

Motion Sickness Bands:  Those little gray bracelets with a marble in them?  They work.  Not like magic, exactly, but they definitely help take the edge off.  The only trouble is that they can get stretched out and then they don't work nearly so well.

A brisk walk:  Yeah, I know, that seems counter intuitive.  But I find that a bit of fresh air (especially cold air) can really help calm things down.  Our hyperactive dog helps with this one a lot.

Dry food:  You know how pregnant women snack on saltines all day long?  And little kids get bits of dry toast when they're recovering from the flu?  Neither of those work with Celiac Disease.  But slightly toasted day-old rice or rice flour pancakes seem to settle much better than the fresh version.  I think it's a combination of the texture and the blandness.  Not appealing when you're well, but there are times when you would rather a few calories slip past your sensory network.

Broth: A perennial favorite, homemade broth gets a few precious calories in alongside some important nutrients.  Chicken broth, veggie broth, bone broth...whatever you prefer, get the ingredients into your crockpot before bed, and you'll have hot broth at your fingertips all day long.

Calm music, or a favorite movie:  There's comfort food, and there's comfort food for the soul.  Whatever your spiritual comfort food is...plug it in, curl up with a warm blanket and put your brain on autopilot.  If you can close your eyes to appreciate it, all the better.

You'll note that I don't mention books.  I love books.  I'm a voracious reader.  You can tell I haven't been feeling "normal" by the number of books I go through, just as you can guess my state of mind by the number of items I bring home from the library.  But I have to be careful, reading too much can exacerbate stomach issues.  Someday I'll get a smarter device and listen to recorded books...Occasionally I'll pick up a recording of Jane Austen, and while I find it hard to follow the story when I'm not feeling great, I do appreciate the soothing tone of the narrator.


I wish there was a miracle cure I could offer.  I'd love to wave a magical wand and cure us all of persistent stomach "issues".  But until then, the best I can do is tell you that you aren't alone.  And hope that I'm not alone either!  :P

It's especially challenging to deal with health issues during the holidays.  Try and focus on what you can do, not what you want to be able to do.  The holidays are a time of love and togetherness...as well as forgiveness and understanding.  The people who matter will understand.  The people who try and hold it against you don't matter.

Enjoy your holiday, embrace the calm moments and accept the queasy ones.  You only get one today, don't put it entirely on hold.

Potluck Power: Corn allergy edition

Life with a corn allergy leads to a lot of obstacles.  Food is everywhere.  Most people don't even realize how often they snack, or accept a drink, munch on food that isn't homemade.  But where there is socializing, there is food.  And for those of us with food allergies; there is tempatation and risk.
For some people with food restrictions, the risk is minimal.  For others, it's big.
And then there are those who are just beginning...they don't know how big the risk really is, and that makes it seem like a looming obstacle.
Luckily, you don't have to eat food that you don't provide.  Really, it is that simple.  There is no reason whatsoever that you would be forced to eat a meal that you don't have control over, so let that risk go.  You get to choose what goes into your body.
Once I learned that trick, social situations became infinitely easier.  (Especially once I figured out that I didn't need to explain to every single person at a party exactly why I wasn't eating.)

The next obstacle was just as hard if not harder:  What to share.
Obviously, I'm not talking about words.  I've already stated that I learned not to overshare.  Oversharing is bad, it loses friends and creates judgement.  It leads to a nasty neverending cycle of self consciousness, negative self talk and isolation.

Once I started to be social again, I didn't like showing up at parties, especially pot lucks, empty handed.  But what could I share?  My diet was/is so limited.  I was used to friends and strangers' appalled faces, and questions like "what do you eat?"
Food.  The answer, dear reader:  I eat food.  I just tend to know what, exactly, is in it.
This is a rarity in some circles.  And the lack of unpronouncables in the ingredient list is a distinct turn off to some individuals.  It was definitely a deterrent to me.  What if they miss the polysorbate 80?  What if they notice there's no MSG?  And, potentially the most unforgiveable of all, how will it possibly look appealing without the aid of yellow #6?

My fears were misplaced.  I started slow.  I ensured there were no known nut allergies and brought my old fashioned peanut butter cookies.  The recipe calls for 1 jar, 2 eggs, and 2 cups of sugar.  I add chocolate chunks and a touch of rice flour.  It's rich, creamy, and I've had folk ask if they can bring a few home wrapped in a napkin.  This, as you can imagine, was the ultimate compliment.

For a more savory dish, I've had success with roasted sweet potatoes.  It's a simple recipe involving sweet potatoes, onions and sometimes carrots, beets, parsnips and/or garlic.  I've roasted brussel sprouts, too, but people are still suspicious of their green-ness.  (Those brave souls who try a few always take seconds or thirds, but the first bite seems to take an awful lot of courage.  After all, they're brussel sprouts.  They've had a bad rap every since the Beaver's days.)  Of course, with this recipe you need to be careful where your dish is placed and that serving utensils don't get mixed up.  Cross contamination is a concern, and I sometimes find myself hovering protectively over the food...totally negating the normalcy of sharing food.

Then I wanted something sweet, but not too sweet.  Something that could pass as a brunchy food.  I wanted to bring carrot cake...but I don't have a good frosting.  Besides, frosting would turn it into a real dessert.
Solution?  Carrot cake baked into loaf pans.  I get lots of positive feedback, and the sugar content is significantly lowered.  Plus, I can turn the leftovers into peanut butter sandwiches.  If there are any leftovers.  Which is rarely.

Final risk taken?  Chebe bread.  It's made from a mix.  I sometimes add garlic and  spinach or diced bell peppers.  I roll it into small rolls to make it less intimidating to potluck snackers.  It gets rave reviews and lots of questions about ingredients and what I do to make it taste so much like "real food".

Potlucks are no longer terrifying.
I still have to worry about cross contamination, and environmental sources of corn (Did someone recently pop corn, is there cornstarch in the air?) but I've managed to feel successful at the end of several potluck type situations.
There's just something satisfying about being able to share what I eat, and finding out that other people don't find it nearly as bland and depressing as they seem to think they will.
I won't pretend I don't feel awkward about my dietary limitations, because I do.  And the point of this blog is to be honest and support anyone else in the same boat.  But I realized that the only way to help others accept my restrictions and see past them is to act normal.  Which means pretending that it really isn't a big deal either way if I can eat the food they offer, or if they taste my offerings.

Once I started pretending, I realized it was true.  Especially once I discovered that I had perfectly respectable dishes to offer.  My diet is different, but not inferior.  What we eat while we talk is really irrelevant.  The fact that we're talking, and the contents of our conversation, that's what matters.

I wish I knew then...

When I was just starting out, my allergies were all consuming.  At least, learning to live with these food restrictions felt all consuming.  I had to relearn how to shop, how to cook, how to maneuver social situations.  I had to change my taste buds, adjust what tasted "good" according to what was "safe".  I had to learn self control in ways I'd never really had to learn it before.
And I had to do it all without going crazy.

I started out by apologizing.  A lot.  I felt guilty for turning down food.  I felt guilty for being served a dish of something if I couldn't eat it, knowing it would be thrown away.  I felt guilty when people spent money on gifts like cookies or (evil) popcorn tins that I wouldn't be able to use.  I was so focused on not poisoning myself that it became almost a mantra.
"I can't eat that, or that, or that"  "I have food allergies"  And then the details.  Long explanations about corn and symptoms and weight loss and drs and answers.
It became all about me, when ironically, my goal was to NOT cause a scene.  I never was fond of throwing up in public, even in public restrooms, and avoiding food that triggered that type of behavior seemed like a good way to keep attention off of myself.
And I had to explain why I wasn't eating...didn't I?
I mean, if I didn't apologize and make sure that the host understood just how bad my reactions were, wouldn't they think I was crazy?  Or at the very least, very rude?

Like most of us, I was raised to be polite.  Take a taste.  Take just a little and finish your plate.  You don't want to offend the cook.  In some cultures it's the utmost reproach to turn down food.
But it's pretty rude to empty your stomach midmeal, too.
And it's more than a little distracting to stop breathing in the middle of a party.  Ambulances are known to put a damper on festivities.  Besides, medical attention is expensive.  And whether you eat the food and risk dying, or don't eat the food...you risk offending the host.  So you might as well stay safe.

Like many food allergy sufferers, I let myself over compensate by over explaining.  I didn't realize that no one cared about my stomach, or my symptoms, or why I wasn't at the last few parties.  While people would ask why I wasn't eating, or comment on my weight loss, they didn't really *care*.  (And I mean that in the best possible way)  This was a party, after all.  The comments weren't meant to trigger a heart to heart between strangers.
But, being self conscious, I'd start to explain.  And then I'd clarify.  And when I saw the glazed over look, I explained some more.
I might as well have been screaming "Don't judge me!  Don't think I'm crazy!  Forgive me!  I'm really not crazy!"  Unfortunately, when someone starts claiming they aren't crazy, that's the one word everyone around them latches onto.

I know now that when I was talking frankly about diagnosis and symptoms and our broken food supply, many of those around me were only hearing one thing:  Eating disorder.
I was under a hundred pounds, and refusing to eat, and going off on a tangent about corn in salad greens.  Or whole wheat crackers.  Or candy.  Or whatever was in front of me.  I was poisoned by bottled water once, it didn't make social situations any easier.
But it did make me look...paranoid.

I know now that it doesn't actually matter whether we eat party food or not.  There are a thousand reasons to say "No, thank you." to a meal or a snack.  We don't need excuses to validate our choices.  Our choice is valid in itself.
I know now that it's okay to just not eat something.
It's also okay to change the subject quickly.  We aren't there to eat; we don't need to submit to a third degree.  We're there to enjoy the company.  And we can't do that while we're busy justifying our choice to take care of our bodies and protect our health.

If I had it to do over again, I'd smack myself on the back of the head (not literally...that would get me labeled crazy in a whole different manner), and tell myself to stop talking.  Say "No, thanks," and leave it at that.
People ask questions to be polite, and once they start it's hard to stop.  The idea of food as an enemy is foreign to most people, they can't wrap their brains around it and are stuck asking questions they don't necessarily want more information about.  No one needs a history of health problems, other than your doctor.
No one needs to know exactly why you're saying no to a piece of cake or pizza.  A choice is a valid choice as long as it isn't infringing on someone else's health issues.  And it doesn't hurt anyone when you choose an empty plate.  Social situations are for filling your heart with friends and love.  For building up relationships, not passing judgement.
Forget the guilt, say "no thanks" to allergen-questionable treats, and keep your hands free for the important things, like hugs and high fives.

Understanding Anxiety

My facebook page has been alive with pictures and shared articles and general discourse about the Late Great Robin Williams and his struggles with depression and anxiety.  Everyone wants to understand, to comprehend what went wrong so we can fix it.  So we can prevent any more suicides.  Ever.  They want to understand, to place blame, insert solutions, and move on.
The truth is, most people know someone who has struggled with a mental health issue at some time or another.  Depression is not uncommon, nor is anxiety.  What is uncommon is a true understanding of the dynamics behind either disorder (not to mention the plethora of other labels available.)

These hit home for me for a couple of reasons.  First, I used to believe I struggled with some sort of mysterious anxiety issue. I never felt unreasonably anxious, really, but my stomach was never "right".  And when the symptoms would get out of control; the doctors' answers were always "stress" or "anxiety" so I worked hard to ignore the symptoms, breathe deeply and move on.  My biggest fear was not making it to the bathroom on time.  In retrospect, it wasn't an irrational concern.
Fast forward several years.  Now I've seen what anxiety can do to a person.  I've struggled to find help for a loved one.  I've argued with school personnel, tried my best to advocate for rights and appropriate treatment and in general mucked about in a lot of things I didn't understand while trying my best to find a solution.

What have I learned?  That there isn't any one single solution.  There are no real answers.
Anxiety and Depression (they often go hand in hand) Don't Make Sense.  I capitalize intentionally, because there is no other way for me to impress upon you, my reader, how important that phrase is.

Trying to validate the situation, or explain away how ridiculous the fear really is, does not work in extreme cases.  But in our society, we want to scrutinize the symptoms and solve them.  Unfortunately, for some folks this doesn't help.  The more we focused on reassuring my daughter that school was a safe environment, the harder it was for her to go.

And I can't tell you how many times the teachers, administrators and even therapists assured me that school couldn't be a trigger because they'd explained to her already that she was safe.  And she'd agreed that it made sense and she liked school.

However, at 7 o'clock in the morning, time to get ready and out the door, none of that rationalization helped.  In only made her feel much worse about her irrational terror of going.  Which triggered more depression.  Which in turn grew out of control.

I find it fascinating to read comments from adult sufferers of both anxiety and depression.  They describe a dark presence that was there even in their childhood, a shadow over their normal activity that was dismissed by parents and teachers.  They were told to get over it.  They learned to hide it.  They learned to be ashamed and that, in turn, led to more trouble seeking help when they finally decided that help was the only real solution.

Maybe the real key to understanding and successfully treating both Anxiety and Depression is a better way to accept the feelings, without judging, and finding ways to work with people who suffer.  Protect jobs.  Provide better school support.  Stop trying to cure and move on, because from what I see, reading comment after comment after comment from adults who have dealt with mental health issues for most of their lives, and sought help (or been burned seeking help), the hardest part about getting help and moving on is the expectation that this is something that can be cured.

For whatever reason, anxiety is a permanent condition.  It can be managed.  It can even go dormant.  But it isn't a permanent cure.  People with true Anxiety Disorder may struggle off and on for their entire lives.  That's a lot of years of trying to explain to others that they were "better" but now they aren't.  A lot of time to feel guilty for not being normal.

If you're reading this and struggling; it's okay.  It's okay to be scared, or upset.  Those feelings are totally valid.  What isn't okay is that those feelings are impacting your life, and there are limited ways to deal with it.  Talk to a friend...and if they don't get it, talk to another friend.  Keep talking.  We need people to hear so that they can know.  We need people to talk so that others know they aren't alone.

Whenever I'm depressed or overwhelmed by financial frustration; I go to the library.
I run my fingers over the spines of the books.  I fill my arms with books on whatever strikes my fancy.  Often YA fantasy for an escapist read; but I'm also a fan of nonfiction.  (My daughter calls these "end of the world books")  I read classics.  (I should read more classics than I do...)  I look for something decadent, and something weighty to balance things out.  I seek out well loved authors and unknowns.  I choose them based on cover or because they've been on my To Be Read list or because I recognize the author.  I snag books with interesting titles.
When I have a comforting load, I skim through movies.
I don't restrict myself.  I choose something I've seen before...a lighthearted, feel good movie like Big or Fools Rush In.  Or a feel good tearjerker like Titanic or just a plain old tearjerker like "My Sister's Keeper".  Or something tense.  Or something I haven't seen before.
The options are endless.

I come home, my soul somewhat soothed.  And then I curl up surrounded by words and stories, snuggle my dog and/or the kids and I read.

And feel insanely rich.

I have an ereader.  But as nice as it is to bring a library with me everywhere I go, nothing seems to compare to visiting the library and bringing a small selection home.

Some days,  I wish I'd never learned to read.  That I could unknow the stories, the facts, the questions...and the nonanswers to those questions.

I want to pull the wool over my eyes and focus on a small aspect of the world.  Or maybe I want to hug my kids and hide on a deserted island, far away from the knowledge of global warming, GMOs and mandatory vaccination schedules (regardless of religious beliefs, and eliminating any questions from parents regarding safety and appropriateness).

What I really want to hide from, though, are the people discussing these items.  Rather than a whole picture image, I see people discussing small aspects.  I see severe judgements made based on tiny portions of information taken out of context.

We need to remember that all parents are parents.  Regardless of income level, or education achieved, or time and effort they've put into researching the latest in parenting techniques, they area still parents.  As such, most have their child's best interest in mind when they are making decisions.

What's more, each child is an individual and will respond differently or require different parenting tactics.  Each child needs a different medical approach.  A unique education based on their individual needs and learning styles and ability.  There is no "one size fits all" approach to life.  Neither is there a single approach to parenting, or health care, or lifestyles in general.

Whatever happened to mistakes being learning lessons?  How does one grow as an individual if they aren't free to explore their personal beliefs, and to act on them?  Presuming, of course, that the consequences of their actions are less likely to impact others than themselves.

We're so busy attacking the trees; we miss the forest.  And then it's gone.

Come on, folks.  Think.  Respect.  Trust.
Is that really so much to ask?

Sometimes I have to laugh...

I was advised that I should probably cut back on the red meat and soda.
Done...I don't eat red meat and haven't had a soda in 20 years.
The next suggestion was that maybe I should entirely cut out fast food and soda.
Again...done.  I literally have not had a soda in 20 years or more.
"Or it could just be stress..."

Yup.  That ubiquitous stress.

Honestly, I think it's all that chocolate I eat when I don't have time for a proper dinner.  :-)   I need to be nicer to my pancreas.

Sometimes the road you think you're on takes you places you never expected to go.

When I had kids; I expected to send them off to school and go back to work...get a degree and do something "meaningful" in that time they were safely ensconced in learning.  But one way or another, that didn't quite happen.

Slowly I pushed my aspirations back.  I could go back to school; or get a good job, once they reached jr high...a stage where my presence would not be requested for parties or volunteer work; and where most kids are finding their own ways home or at least carpooling.

But some things don't work out the way you expect.  'The best laid plans' and all that jazz.  Sometimes you find yourself living life backwards.

I never set out to be a homeschooler.  I have great respect for homeschoolers.  I loved the thought of homeschooling young kids.  But, we had a phenomenal elementary school.  A good middle school.  A decent high school.  We live in a fairly safe neighborhood.  Test scores are great, and our kids are above average.  Gifted, even.

 There was no need to homeschool.

Until there was.  And then there was no more debate, no more options.  We tried everything, we ran into a lot of brick walls, and finally...clarity.  Give up.  Homeschool.

If I'd ever considered myself a homeschooler, I would have seen myself sending the kids back to school at the middle or high school level.  Instead, I find myself scrambling to find lesson plans that meet both the state standards and unique needs.

I never meant to be a homeschooler.  But here I am.
And it's paying off.  I fear for the education my daughter is getting, but only because I feel inadequate in the face of her potential.  And that fear is far outweighed by the shadows left by the public school system.  It's not that I don't trust them...it's just that they were woefully unprepared for the beautiful disaster that is my child.

High test scores contrasted by emotional outbursts.  Mature outlooks balanced by immature attitudes.  The independence countered by tearful clinging long after her peers had let go.  It didn't add up, it doesn't add up...it doesn't need to add up any more.

She simply is.

And I never imagined that by walking away from what should be, from the traditional road, would we finally start to find things that do make sense.  Truths that were shrouded from us before as we were searching for answers.

Gifted kids are quirky.  It's not a problem, or a question, or even a concern.  It's just a fact.

The only question left is...why didn't anyone clue us in sooner?  We'd have saved so much heartbreak and sleepless nights if we knew that these were normal aspects of gifted kids.

Gifted sometimes doesn't feel like a gift.  But understanding is.

Putting the Happy back in Halloween

If you're reading this blog, you know that we have food allergies in our house.
Lots of food allergies.

Okay, maybe not THAT many food allergies.  But it's enough to throw a damper on anyone's candy-tabulous, sugarlicious, Trick or Treat-a-thon.  At this point, my kids are starting to outgrow the treats, and too sophisticated for the tricks.  We geek out on costumes, we pull out a few favorite movies, like The Great Pumpkin, and we have our own treats.  (Okay, so Bumblebee is still young enough to trick or treat a little bit, and Penguin might sneak out as well.  If her friends are going in a group, she's been left out enough.)  But the main focus of the night is no longer the loot.  It's the fun.

However, there is a new trend that would have made the early days so. much. easier.

It's called the Teal Pumpkin Project.  It's about allergy awareness, but it's so much cooler than some of the allergy aware projects I've seen in the past.  The main concept is that people offering allergy friendly fare put a teal pumpkin out front.  That way, parents of kids with dietary restrictions can scope out the safe houses and plan their route accordingly.

It doesn't stop there though.  My favorite part of this project is that it wants to include all kids with dietary restrictions for any reason.  So...the teal pumpkin doesn't just mean allergy friendly candy.  (Because who knows what kids might be allergic to?  Beet coloring, yellow #5, corn syrup, chocolate...Or candy that is typically safe might not be safe in treat sized packages due to the way holiday candy is processed.)

Teal pumpkins on the front porch mean that this house offers NON FOOD TREATS.

That's right.  Those pencils and toothbrushes that teens wearing fangs and a five o'clock shadow spurn?  Kids with food allergies love 'em...they get to actually keep those treats.  They also like whistles, bubbles, mardi gras beads, glow sticks, and anything you find in the party store.  Used books can be a hit too...some libraries offer 'Friends of..." booksales where you stuff a bag with as many picture books and easy readers (and whatever else) that you want for only a few dollars.  Offer them up at Halloween, and then donate the leftovers to the next sale...you'll have saved candy money and maybe even inspired a few kids to read.

You can put out a teal pumpkin and still offer candy.  Just make sure that there are also non food treats.

If you don't want to start this year, there's another benefit to the whole non-food treat thing...they won't grow moldy in storage.  So stock up in November and stuff your extras away with the Halloween decorations.  And next year...put out a teal pumpkin or two.  Most kids won't know or care, they'll choose whatever they want and go on their way.  But the few who do need to be cautious, will appreciate that little plastic toy in ways you can't begin to believe.  Because it's a way they can be included without noticing that they're different.  :-)

Which means that the most stressful, tear inducing holiday for many food allergy kids can be happy again.

Happy Halloween!

I've been sitting a lot lately.  In public parks, in waiting rooms, even at the dog park.  I can't help eavesdropping.  It's not even eavesdropping...I'm in plain sight, and greet the people around me, then sit.  And listen.  

I find that no matter the age of the people around me, conversations often turn to the same thing.  Other people.  

It's amazing how easy it is to bond over the criticism of a mutual friend.  Clothes, spending, parenting (or dog training) techniques, are all up for judgement.  

And then, invariably, the victim shows up and is greeted with open arms.  

I suppose this is part of human nature.  And maybe I'm just more aware of it because October is Bully Free month.  Or maybe it's because our Girl Scout troop is focusing on dealing with bullies in our lives.  

I know I've been there.  Done the same type of thing.  I've been the topic of conversation more than once.  I've even had people strike up a conversation about me at the same table I'm sitting at.  Which can be as amusing as it is uncomfortable.  

Lately, I can't help but notice how...high school it all is.  

Perhaps we never really outgrow high school.  But maybe, just maybe we should.  

Which is why I'm making a conscious effort to be nicer to those I know who are a victim of these conversations.  And I'm (trying) to keep my discussions about others positive.  Acknowledging quirks, accepting differences, and sending out prayers that they have peace, or support, or whatever is appropriate.  

It's what I want my kids to do.  It's what I want them to emulate.  It's my little way to be the change, for whatever it's worth.