Growth and Gratitude

For many families, Thanksgiving is a frenzied holiday involving travel, lots of people with their strong personalities, and most of all, food.

Food. It is something that every single person on the planet cannot live without. It is the sustenance that keeps us alive and well. In most cultures, it is also a symbol of love and is ritualized for every important time in our lives. But it can also be the substance that poisons us and contributes to illness.

What do we do when food carries so much social and emotional weight?

Since being diagnosed with celiac disease, Thanksgiving has been many things. Before being diagnosed, it was a holiday for eating lots of fun things I didn't usually eat, always followed by inexplicable stomachaches and other ailments. But everyone feels terrible after Thanksgiving dinner, right? After my diagnosis, Thanksgiving became a much more emotionally heavy holiday. At first, it was a complicated and stressful experience that reminded me of my illness. Eventually, and with a lot of work, it returned to a warm and festive experience. Nowadays, I find that Thanksgiving is a marker that reminds me of the path I have walked since my diagnosis.

My first Thanksgiving after finding out I had celiac disease, the holiday became the source of all dread in my world. I had only been diagnosed two months earlier and had been feeling sicker than when I was eating gluten in the first place. I had planned a trip to visit extended family in San Diego, which would involve a six-hour drive each way, a long weekend at a hotel, and a Thanksgiving meal at another person's house.

This trip would push me far outside little gluten-free safety bubble I had created desperately since my diagnosis. I had been advised to avoid eating out for a few months to ensure that I recovered successfully. This would be the first test of eating away from home, the first attempt to order gluten-free foods, and the first time trying to trust other family members with my health at their home.

The preparation for Thanksgiving was challenging to navigate, to say the least. Fortunately, the hostess was a kind woman who I knew well and felt I could talk to honestly. When she heard the news of my diagnosis, she insisted that I come to her house and that she would do anything she had to do to make a meal that was safe for me. I sent her lists and resources outlining how to clean a kitchen to keep it gluten-free. She decided to buy new cookware for items that I would be eating. She even made sure to bake pies and other flour-containing items on a different day and to clean the kitchen before cooking the rest of the meal. I was so grateful.

I opted to bring several dishes from home that I knew would be safe. I made gluten-free stuffing, a cranberry-apple crisp, and brought my own gravy. I also packed a cooler of food for the trip itself- rice cakes, nut butter, cereal, and veggies. Unfortunately, I had not yet learned how to change my diet so that I not only cut out gluten, but that I also added in enough nourishing food to keep my body healthy. At the time of my first Thanksgiving, I was losing weight uncontrollably and feeling worse than ever. I begged my husband for us to stay home and do a quiet holiday on our own, but he knew we had to go on living our lives, somehow.

I won't sugar-coat it, my first Thanksgiving was miserable in the moment. I felt ill without any particular reason for it, I was paranoid about everything I ate and what it might do to me, and I was mortified that I was the weird, sick person dragging everyone down.

The night before we returned home, we played a game of Apples to Apples, where you pick an adjective card and everyone guesses the best noun to go with it. I picked "Overwhelming". What a fitting adjective for my state of being. Guess what the winning noun was? "Wheat". "WHEAT"! Talk about a perfect description of that week.

It got better though. That's the most important, most joyful bit of this story. It got better. Much better.

By the following year, I had gained new kills for eating, traveling, and cooking by leaps and bounds. I saw a nutritionist and learned the importance of eating high protein foods to replace the wheat I had been eating and to help my gut heal. I found apps and online lists of restaurants and food products that were gluten-free friendly. Most of all, I worked through my anxiety and did my best to live my life despite the fear of getting sick.

I'm happy to say that by my second Thanksgiving, things were much better. I actually enjoyed myself. I discovered new restaurants that had delightful french toast, miso-glazed black cod, and many other treats. It wasn't a perfect trip. But I was living my life.

Every year, I think back to that first post-diagnosis Thanksgiving. It helps me remember where I came from and how much I grew. I am able to enjoy food so much more than I ever could before I was diagnosed. More importantly, it reminds me of the purpose of this holiday- to give thanks. It took time and work, but I am grateful that I was able to come out the other side. I made it through the transition, not only back to where I had been, but actually much better off.

Holidays involving food are complicated to deal with when you have food restrictions. It carries emotional weight for all involved. But it also helps us re-evaluate what we want the holiday to mean to us, personally. For me, Thanksgiving is a time to remind myself how strong and resilient I can be. And for that, I am grateful.