Sometimes I Cry Too, Guys

No celebrity is super human. I mean, gossip magazines wouldn’t be making a bazillion dollars in leaked tapes and photographs if that was the case. Before I became a blogger myself, I used to think that the bloggers I looked up to were super human. I trusted them as my mentors and my icons and my hope for a better gluten-free future for myself. It seemed like they knew exactly what to do in every scenario and had a real badass-hold on what being gluten-free was all about.

And then for some reason I became one myself. I have no idea why you read my posts, but apparently a lot of you do and for that I’m thankful. I get a little teary-eyed when you write me and tell me that you’re thankful that I wrote XYZ or that you found me because you felt alone or that no one understood what you were going through. It’s the best part of my day when I get a message from you – you help keep the smile on my face 24/7 (unless I run out of brownie mix, then no one can save me). But I’m here to say that I’m not super human, not by any means. I write about a lot of personal stuff on here, but I want you guys to know that I’m still learning, still struggling, right along with you. I mean, that’s why we’re here, right?

I’ve had a particularly hard week.

I was glutened sometime before the GFAF Expo in San Fran. I started developing symptoms a few days into the expo and I tried with all my might to recall where the Hell I had gluten. Was it Chipotle? I thought I told them to change gloves and get new ingredients? Was it a new cookie I tried? Was something made on shared equipment that I didn’t know about? You know the drill, we’ve all gone through it a million times.

I started feeling like dog crap and developing my usual giant ulcers inside my mouth (slightly different than the run-of-the-mill canker sores you get if you bite your lip). Mine can be dime-sized and don’t allow me to talk or to eat for weeks at a time (yay liquid diet?). I haven’t been able to eat well, or even talk well and every time I open my mouth I’m in pain. Luckily I don’t have any gastro symptoms, but man, does it bum me out. I’ve been nursing my sores with some miracle mouthwash (a combination on benadryl, maloxx, and lidocaine). I’ve been such a sassy pants to Non-GFBF and just a pain to be with. I just sit in bed and night and roll my eyes in the dark and say “seriously celiac?!?!? whyyyyyyy?”

Yesterday, I ate s*** and slipped in a rare puddle of rain on my concrete patio and landed square on my bum bum, left wrist, and right ulna and both knees (yes, the one I had surgery on too). My automatic reaction was “don’t cry, just move around and see if anything is poking out of the skin.” I stripped down in the rain and saw that nothing was sticking out where it shouldn’t be. I was already bruised and there was a scary lump growing already on my forearm where I put my entire body weight between it and the sidewalk. Now, being a brittle-boned Celiac – I went to the doctor and said “hey doc, this shouldn’t look like this – right?” And no, no it isn’t supposed to look like that. Luckily, it wasn’t broken, but I spent most of the day crying and feeling sorry for my brittle body that felt like it had been run over by a truck. Literally everything hurts, down to the joints in my fingers as I’m typing this. Today it feels like I completed an Ironman. I need Advil – stat!

I guess I’m writing this to tell you that even someone who is supposed to be an advocate – someone who is supposed to represent the needs and wants of a community, STILL STRUGGLES with what this disease does to your body. You are never alone out there – we all have our off days, and that’s okay. You’re allowed to cry. You’re allowed to be mad. You’re allowed to swear and rant about it on Facebook. You’re allowed to post on our wall and say “ARGH NO ONE UNDERSTANDS ME AND IF I SEE ANOTHER GIRL SCOUT COOKIE I’M GONNA SCREAM.” Because, you know – that’s probably how I feel too.