I had decided that I was too searchable on the web and wanted to have a little less presence, be a little less blog available. Mission accomplished. I've had a change of heart, mostly because I miss putting my thoughts down on "paper". Quite a bit has happened since the hand pies of 2010 but I'll just hit the highlight reel.
2011
This was a very rough year for me. That's basically all I remember. I'm sure there were happy moments but only the thorns stick out in my memory.
Thorn 1 & 2: Room and Board
The company I worked for was bought out and us employees were made to wait six months for a site decision. The decision was to come after my apartment lease came up for renewal. Moving to a place that could be covered by unemployment insurance sounded like a good idea. In total, I moved four times that year, each place worse than the last. This is considerable as the first move involved a house with a sustained internal temperature of forty-six degrees. While I did not end up losing my job, I put in so many hours at work that I had all three meals, every day, at my desk for more time than I would like to admit. As a thank you for this effort, management gave me a Starbucks gift card with $20 to spend. My friend said I should be thankful for that but all I could think was, "Screw you company!".
Thorn 3: Love Rollercoaster
I ended what I thought had been a most promising relationship (but aren't they all promising until they aren't?). Sigh.
2012
I had high hopes for this year. I was emotionally drained and close to a break down at year end and clung to the belief that my family trip to Australia for six weeks would restore my soul. It took two and a half weeks before I felt like something other than a caged animal. Calm. And then the storm raged anew. Fifteen people in Tante B's house for Christmas. The table looked like a feast at Hogwarts and we were just as merry.
The cousins got a cooking lesson from Oma for her berlina recipe.
I took a stab at surfing.
Surfing took a stab at me.
I saw the Great Barrier Reef which brought me my first snorkel, SCUBA, and heat stroke (almost).
My most serene moment was snorkeling on my own (don't worry, the boat captain was watching out for me) above the Stepping Stones in the Whitsundays and being completely surrounded by an enormous school of tiny, silvery fish. The way they moved was like watching a candle flame flicker in the wind, only I was the wind. I held as still as possible, not even breathing, wanting to stay there forever.
Broulee was not as I remembered. The waves loomed larger and the shells more numerous when I was a kid. This didn't stop me from beach combing and getting a righteous sunburn while in pursuit of the itty bitty seashells from childhood visits to Oma and Opa. The contrast of angry red and pasty pale was so stark you could make out the squiggles of my bikini tie. The house that Opa built was also foreign. Is it the amount of time between making memories that changes things or is it that the details that are important to me as a child are so different from those as an adult? Either way the beach trip was a restorative step on my path to happiness.
Melbourne was my time to myself. Nine splendid days of doing something or nothing, whenever, however I chose. I read. I walked. I got lost. I bought summer clothes that I'll be able to wear one day of the year in Seattle. It was lovely, truly lovely.
View from the Melbourne condo.
Before I knew it, Autumn strolled in on her red carpet and ushered in a new phase of my life along with the changing season. Over the previous couple of years I had been experiencing a higher than average number of sick days (for me). I attributed my fatigue and stomach discomfort to stress, a known cause of many ill symptoms, and I had experienced a fare share of emotional stress. From August to October pain and discomfort became almost constant. I'm used to a level of chronic pain with my knees and headaches but this was unbearable. With tears I begged my doctor to figure out what was happening to me. I hate crying in front of people. Every celiac test came back positive.
O.
M.
G.
While grateful for a diagnosis that would allow me to control my symptoms, I was devastated. Gluten is like high fructose corn syrup. It hides in the most unsuspecting places and it is one of the more fabulous components of food items. I embraced the new diet with as much gusto as I could muster, and plunged into the GF life with all my hopes riding on this diagnosis.
2013
My pain decreased remarkably (hurray!) with my new diet but my quality of life deteriorated. One gluten free restaurant crêpe incident left me in tears on the couch for three days because there were too many stairs between my bed and the bathroom. The pain was remarkable. Just because it is gluten free does not mean it is celiac friendly. I didn't go out to eat for at least a month and had to swallow my fear every time I took a bite from someone else's kitchen for at least two more.
I started to replace my hunger cravings for bready things with yogurt and cheese type items. A noticeable decrease in GI happiness was the result. Turns out dairy free and gluten free go hand in hand. Now I'm a celiac vegan carnivore. This was particularly amusing to me as I had watched a friend go through gluten free shenanigans in 2006 and I declared forcefully, "If I'm ever diagnosed as a celiac and lactose intolerant I'll kill myself." Brie and a baguette is my favorite meal. I had only discovered the joy of challah bread as french toast in 2011. What do you eat if cereal crops and dairy are off the table, literally?
I'd like to strike my suicidal statement from the record.
I have found things to eat, obviously. I will not starve and I will enjoy my food. As most commercial products contain some form of wheat, cooking from scratch has become mandatory. I thought this would be more healthy, and on some level I'm sure it is, but I rely on bacon and eggs for more meals than is truly necessary. I'm trying not to picture what my arteries look like inside. A highlight here is that I've thought I was allergic to eggs since college. Now I can eat them as much as I want with no side effects. This is huge as eggs are a great binder for recipes.
I'm still learning how to cope.
It would be great if the substitutions people came up with were for more than baked desserts. I want to feel full, not pack my day with ultra processed gf flours and sugar. The most amazing thing in all this is that I live in Seattle. I feel like this way of life would be ten times more difficult in most other areas of the country, or the world. Thank you hippie foodie Seattle-ites. Thank you vegans. Thank you paleo people. Thank you vegetarians. You have paved the way for unadulterated, fresh food for me to eat. I ate some delicious vegan coconut milk ice cream with fake chocolate chips today. I have fake butter in my fridge that dairy eatin' folk can't tell the difference (Earth Balance - you are amazing). There are at least three different types of yummy kale to choose from at my ridiculously expensive grocery stores. I'm learning to love potatoes with olive oil and am eating more veggies than ever. Soy yogurt is actually appealing now and almond milk can rock a smoothie. Of course I'm writing this as I polish off a bag of corn chips (certified gluten free!).
Hope is on the horizon.
A common side effect of this diagnosis is that while my gut is healing I am more susceptible to illness and that when I do get sick, I'll be sick for longer and have more pronounced symptoms than normal, whatever that is. An informal poll of acquaintances and the Internet has suggested that my reactions and tolerance will stabilize after a couple of years. Also within this timeline, there is a distinct possibility that I'll be able to have dairy again. Every day this is what keeps me going.
So think Fievel thoughts for me and don't be offended if I ask to dig your food containers out of the trash and recycle to look for hidden gluten ingredients.
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