What You Don't Understand About Dietaries

Okay, it is time for the Meltdown Breakdown.

This is where we talk through an anonymous wig out that's come in via our submission form, which again is linked in the show notes if you'd like to submit your own dilemma.

Anon says, I recently found out I'm celiac and I'm spiral rising.

I've always been a huge food person.

There's pretty much nothing I won't eat.

Some of my happiest moments revolve around food, whether it's a spontaneous bowl of hot chips and a glass of red at a pub, discovering a hidden gem while I'm traveling or splurging on a chef's tasting menu.

Yum.

Food has never just been fuel for me.

It's been a hobby, a source of joy, a way I connect with people and a huge part of how I experience life.

So while the diagnosis was also a relief because it explained years of symptoms and proved I wasn't imagining things, I'm really struggling with what comes next.

I'm naturally quite an anxious type A person who likes to plan ahead, but I've always loved the spontaneity of stumbling across a great restaurant or saying yes to wherever friends want to eat.

Now I feel like I have to research every menu, every cafe, every restaurant before I go instead of feeling excited about eating out.

I'm worried about cross-contamination, whether staff understand celiac disease and whether a place is actually safe despite saying they have gluten-free options.

I'm finding myself overwhelmed by social situations too.

Going out for dinner with friends or family used to be fun, but now I get anxious when I'm not the one choosing the venue.

I hate feeling like a difficult person and I hate that something that used to bring me so much joy now comes with so much stress.

What I'm struggling with most is that it isn't a temporary diet or a health kick.

It's forever.

I know logically that I'll adapt and there are so much worse things that I could be dealing with, but emotionally I feel sad, insecure, and honestly a bit lost.

My dilemma is how do you grieve something that seems so small to everyone else but feels huge to you? How do you stop food from becoming something scary and anxiety-inducing when it used to be one of your greatest joys? And how do you hold on to spontaneity when your health now depends on planning ahead? She's a beautiful writer, by the way.