Today I read an outstanding and in-depth article regarding severe food allergies and the prospect of desensitization. I recommended this reading to everyone, as it’s something we should all know about. A big thanks to my sister for sharing this article with me in the New York Times entitled, “The Allergy Buster, Can a Radical New Treatment Save Children with Severe Allergies?” This article covers everything from desensitization to food allergens to potential causes of the stark rise in food allergies today. Reading this was very personal and close to home for me, as I can totally relate to the stories of these children and the fear aspect of living with intense food allergies. I’m quite lucky to have my most severe allergies as an adult and not as a small child. I’m so glad to see that there’s hope of it getting better for those of us with life threatening cases, especially children, who often cannot handle living with these problems on their own. Here’s an interesting quote from the article regarding some evidence for the recent spike in food allergic youth:
”One focus of Nadeau’s lab is studying whether the toxins found in pollution, pesticides or tobacco smoke damage the genes in ways that make children more likely to have allergies and the intimately related disease of asthma. There is evidence that having a parent or a grandparent who smoked — even if the child was never exposed to smoke — is a risk factor for food allergies, as is living in an urban area with elevated pollution.”
Also the evidence between poor diet during pregnancy and food allergy risk is not surprising to me. What do you all think of this touching article? It really hit home for me as I’m sure it will for others. But it really leaves me hopeful for the future.
Sometimes writing things down can be a kind of therapy. A way to empty out all my thoughts, clear my head, and make sense of some of the loose ends. So today, I’m writing something I need to read myself. The other day, I was feeling a little similar to Charlotte in Lost in Translation, someone who ultimately wasn’t really being neglected by someone else, but was actually neglecting or not acknowledging a part of herself. (I included a clip from the movie above, a beautiful scene that happens to include one of my favorite songs by Air).
Isolation is something I’ve fought feeling and understanding for quite some time now. Just recently have I allowed myself to acknowledge that I’ve been feeling this in my subconscious for years. Not all the time, but just enough to let it silently throw me off kilter sometimes. It’s a difficult feeling to put to words, but I’m guessing there might be thousands of other people out there that will instantly understand my sentiments here without me writing another character. It’s not really about wishing things were different, because I’m extremely happy where I am in life today. It’s more about a silent state of mind that hits periodically; a reflective, almost anxious but not quite, tingling that tries telling me I shouldn’t venture out too far because I’m different. Really different. By nature. Once recently, I let this feeling slip over me and talk me out of going for a day trip alone, trying to eat out at a restaurant I really missed, and just exploring somewhere I’d never been before. I wasn’t afraid of the possibility of getting sick from food, having an allergic reaction, or getting lost. I just felt a melancholy thought that if anything happened, no one would understand or could understand. “How could they understand?” I thought. Sometimes I didn’t even understand what I was reacting to and still slip up in my own kitchen at times. I realized how very wrong I was to let this deter me. This day trip represented more than just a day trip. It’s living life.
I think periodic feelings of isolation began for me when I started to feel the physical symptoms of chronic disease some 5 years ago. I felt stabs of mortality, pain, fear, anxiety, and sadness before all my diagnoses. I truly felt alone for the first time in my life, even though everyone around me was trying to help. Since then, I’ve overcome so many obstacles and I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Things have changed drastically for the better. I will never complain about the blessings that many severe food allergies and Celiac disease have brought me and these things ultimately taught me great lessons and great joy. I will never curse them away. But I’ve changed so much as a person through this journey, I don’t quite recognize who I was before all of this happened. Sometimes it results in a more reserved, reflective form of myself who shys away from uncertainty. These waves of isolation represent more than I think they do though. Maybe I’ve been thinking about this all wrong. Feeling isolated is not the same thing as feeling different. Isolation is really something you create yourself. It is not just a byproduct of circumstance. It is a closed state of mind, an un-celebration, if you will, of what makes you bold and beautiful. Maybe isolation isn’t that you think other people won’t understand you, but that you aren’t fully understanding yourself.
I’m mainly writing this down so I don’t forget what I’m now understanding, however rambled sounding it may be. Isolation is a choice. It can be a detriment, or it can be a catalyst to challenge the status-quo of your own life. If I had given in to feelings of isolation before, would I have ever reached out and started this blog? No. Would I be snapping photos and contributing to a magazine I love? No. Would I be a freelance writer? Certainly not. Today, I’m using this understanding to go even further towards what I might be unsure of and what might seem challenging to me.
I was just going to end this post on that note, by was struck by a strong memory. In one of the first conversations I ever had with my now fiance, he said something simple yet profound.
Life isn’t waiting, so neither am I.
Funny how fragments of life well lived come back in the moments when you really need to see them the most.
Since going Gluten-free over 3 years ago and being highly allergic to soy, peanuts, and legumes for one year, I’d had my fair share of ups and downs. I know most people dealing with multiple food allergies have probably at one point dealt with many of the following things:
People telling you (directly or indirectly) that they think you’re limited or “damaged goods” due to your strange immune system.
Strangers commenting on your weight or body in a negative light.
Misunderstandings about what you can and can’t eat, and others seeing you as difficult due to your limited diet.
Feeling alone or isolated from people, close and not so close, that don’t fully understand your situation or refuse to acknowledge it.
Struggling with safe food choices and keeping a balanced diet despite numerous restrictions.
Self loathing or feeling inadequate due to being different with food allergies.
Frustration on not being able to eat what everyone else does.
Depression/Anxiety over your permanent situation.
Feeling the need to apologize to others for your special diet or food allergies.
At first, I had a hard time grappling with the changes that had been shoved into my life without my consent. I felt myself asking questions like, “Why me?” or “How am I going to overcome this without losing myself?”. The truth is, all of the above have come to be great and priceless blessings, even if it felt like the absolute opposite at the start.
Using these obstacles as stepping stones to building yourself back up after the fall takes patience and practice, but will ultimately make you stronger and more resilient than anyone or anything aiming these negative energies your way. Some of my best days have been laughing in the face of what seemed to be impossible to live with. I am constantly surrounded by food I cannot eat everywhere I go, but that doesn’t mean my attitude needs to be sour. Let your light shine brighter and learn to love what you do have. Here’s some of the many things I’m thankful for and that have taught me to embrace my radiant self, no matter what’s testing me that day:
Precious and delicious food that I can eat
Learning to be my own gourmet chef and rock it out in the kitchen whenever I have a craving (waaay cheaper, healthier, and more fun than a few rounds at a run of the mill restaurant).
My support system: Family is forever and the ones you can trust to just “be there” truly shine with you through the challenges making you realize your full potential and grace.
The power of nature, nourishing the body, mind, and spirit, and keeping life simple.
A positive outlook changes your life, and no one can take away your own powerful thoughts.
Organic, pure, and real food.
Small steps and victories that reaffirm you are capable of anything you focus on overcoming.
How small and big my life seems at the same time when I look at the sky.
Others negativity ultimately becomes my strength.
Love. Pure and Simple.
That list could go on probably forever, but you get the idea. Overcoming challenges from living with special diets or food allergies can be difficult, there’s no question about that. It’s what you do with the opportunity that’s knocking. Let your little light shine and be authentically you. You don’t ever have to apologize for that. You are strong, beautiful, and you are the one that’s in control. What will you do with your blessings today?
This is news to me. According to this article, almost all newspapers printed in the U.S. now use Soy based ink. Luckily, I usually do my news reading online these days. At first I thought it was shocking that one of the top 8 allergens was chosen to base such a large market but quickly realized that it’s all about the money–not the safety of the few million who might die from reading the paper. The only other place I’ve heard this mentioned was from a tour of a newspaper archival company that regularly handled newspapers and thought it was an interesting fact to share.
Beware this label:
I doubt you’ll be biting into the newspaper very often to go along with your morning cup of joe, unless of course you’re a goat or a giraffe. Or my dog. But to be honest, I find myself still fearful of this “soy-ink” as substances you touch or put on your skin are absorbed through your skin into your body.
Before last summer, I’d never prayed for my life before. I’d never felt the sharp jab of mortality. What I had felt before was the ease with which air effortlessly passed into my body and saturated me with life. What I’ll never feel again is the naive ungratefulness I knew before I almost died.
Unknowingly, I was suffering a severe and life threatening allergic reaction called anaphylaxis shock. My limbs went numb, my stomach convulsed, and my throat began to close up to the point where I was gasping for air. I clutched for items to hold onto to get some sort of stability and the fleeting normal physical feelings. But all I could think about was how much I had taken for granted in my life as the bulging lump in my throat threatened to take it all away. And then I saw a fuzzy blackness began to crawl over my peripheral vision.
Who was I to be judging the universe? Complaining about trivial things? I can tell you that instances where you had ridiculously complained about unimportant things, like that time you ordered a water with ice and received a warm water with no ice, flash before you when your body is failing fast and life is leaving. You remember how you treasured material things more than the life and feelings of a poor stranger. Then you get smacked in the face. Hard. You see the beautiful shades of color that seemed so ordinary before shining brilliant and vivid, waking you. You fall to the ground with the gravity of the world around you and are instantly and permanently humbled. You realize how small and how big your life is all at once. Everything is pulsing, and in that moment you are truly alive.
You will never be the same. And it’s a blessing.
I was able to ride out this deadly allergic reaction (to Soy) due to the genius of my boyfriend who gave me antihistamines even though he wasn’t sure what was happening while we waited for the ambulance to arrive.
I’m forever grateful for the life that pulses through my veins and the time I have here. Don’t miss a moment. I don’t have to tell you that you never know what will happen next. If I ever feel my spirit dying again, I’ll breathe and remember.
