I was 25, fresh out of college, and excited about life ahead. Many of my friends were settling down, starting new chapters, and getting married. But a challenging season of sickness was looming for me. I realized I had pushed aside legitimate medical concerns, and it was time for me to do something about it.
First Signs and Symptoms
It began with intense side pain after meals, a pain so sharp it felt like a knife cutting into me. Regularly, I would lie down after meals for the pain to pass. I also became incredibly sluggish and tired all the time. Sometimes I'd pull over while driving just to rest between errands. Speaking of errands, I was constantly looking out for clean bathrooms. Since I worked in the field then and never knew when I would get sick, I couldn't depend on being close to home for an episode. Basic tasks felt impossible. I was diagnosed as anemic and went through nine weeks of iron infusions, flying weekly to a Dallas Cancer treatment center. Nothing seemed to help. There was a time where I was even labeled a hypochondriac by one of my doctors when they couldn't figure out what was wrong. Definitely not a favorite moment of mine.
A Turning Point: Seeing a Specialist
Eventually, I saw enough doctors and was guided to a specialist and gastroenterologist in Dallas. She mentioned something I'd never heard of before and likely a contender for my symptoms—Celiac disease. She gave a brief description of gluten, but back then, I had never heard of it either. I was in complete disbelief; I ate bread, pasta, and pastries all the time. How could gluten be the problem? Blood tests confirmed a gene linking to Celiac and even more startling, nearly every lab result came back deficient, displaying I was extremely malnourished. My new doctor turned the computer screen to me, showing the results, and said, "Most people couldn't tell it from the outside, however, you are extremely sick and need to make a change. If you don't handle it now, you will pay for it later and this disease will kill you."
Now, I have a flair for the dramatic, but this seemed a bit extra, even for me.
Testing and Diagnosis
In addition to everything, it was explained that I couldn't cut out gluten just yet, even if it was the culprit. For the biopsy, you must continue gluten consumption, because a proper gluten-free diet would remove effects and give a faulty reading. So I started cutting back on gluten with one to two meals a day and left dinner regular, still experiencing side effects (we know that it happens even with the smallest amount of exposure).
After those final tests, I received my official diagnosis: you know it, Celiac disease. It was overwhelming but also clarifying—finally, I had an answer. I committed to going gluten-free, but at the time, I admit it was more for my family than it was for myself.
Adjusting to Gluten-Free Life and Physical Changes
The transition wasn't easy. I had to throw out anything in my kitchen that might be cross-contaminated, from pots to strainers to my toaster. On top of that, the impact began quickly. I started gaining weight—25 pounds in six weeks. While this was a healthier weight for me, it was a lot of change, and none of my clothes fit anymore. I felt like I was not in control of my body. I had never been this weight and didn't like how I looked.
Emotional Challenges and Family Support
The beginning journey wasn't smooth. For the first six months, I battled depression and made mistakes. My tolerance lessened as I was restrictive, which meant I got sick easier with cross-contamination. I was constantly learning what I could and couldn't eat, reading every label, and navigating uncomfortable social situations. In my rural town, explaining I "couldn't have gluten" was met with blank stares or confusion when I tried to go to restaruants.
But one thing that made a difference was my family. I'm incredibly grateful to them for never questioning my needs and always going the extra mile to help in the beginning. My mom read gluten-free books with me, my sister constantly advocated in my corner, and my dad offered support. We figured it out together. I can only imagine how tough this would be without that support, and I empathize deeply with anyone who's gone through or is going through it alone. Even after all this time, I rarely meet people who aren't supportive to health needs, such as this.
I mentioned that it took me 6 months of practicing gluten-free before I was willing to accept the diagnosis. I vividly remember my acceptance moment. The words "unforeseeable future" echoed in my head from the doctor while I was watching my mom put away some dishes in my kitchen. As I pulled myself up off the couch, it resonated that I didn't have to go through this challenge alone and could begin to reframe how I looked at my life. This was something very much within my control that I could commit to. I didn't want to constantly worry about my health. I didn't want to settle for boring or bland gluten-free food. I wanted to have a really fun, good life, even if that meant being gluten-free. This prompted our first big challenge! We begin looking to replace all my old favorites as gluten-free, making sure it was the best that we could find and a tasty substitute. Sometimes you can't even tell it's gluten-free (or so I'm told!) and we've been on this journey ever since.
Moving to the Metroplex and Finding a New Perspective
After my acceptance, I moved to the Metroplex, where gluten-free living was slightly more known and would eventually catch on. Acceptance was my most challenging part in the initial diagnosis. When we're experiencing a forced new reality its never fun, but I have found so many silver lining moments throughout the last decade. Most often, learning patience when I can't eat or the food is wrong, practicing kindness and consideration for others in similar situations, and having self-control and discipline which are all things I need to grow as a human and woman of faith. I've learned much about myself and my body, and I feel healthier. I've realized that life doesn't have to be any less joyful just because it's gluten-free. If you're on this journey, know that you're not alone. It will get easier with time, support, faith, and a bit of self-compassion.
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