May 31, 2015

Bad headache. Dreamed about the Kardashians (WHAT!?!). Not a nightmare, per se, but not exactly nighttime nirvana, either. Popped two Excedrin with my morning handful of stinky vitamins (sorry, liver), and chased down the aftertaste with slightly over-acidic homemade kombucha. Heartburn by 8 a.m. Joy. Dark chocolate chips came next…then the Natural Lays (couldn’t stop at just one). Stupid decisions that are making me feel out of whack again. Time to get back on the wagon. Tomorrow’s the day. Is it bad I’m also dreaming of a blueberry scone from Liberty Market?

May 29, 2015

Had a sweet tooth all day and after checking out the nutritional information on Sonic’s website, went against my better judgment and rode with the hubby to order a Reese’s Sonic Blast from the high-pitched, only-dogs-can-hear-her teenage girl in the drive-thru. I got the mini (without whipped cream, thank-you-very-much), and savored it slowly, secretly hoping I wouldn’t experience a different form of sonic blast after we got home. Dairy. It rarely does my body good. And when you add all the other processed crap into the mix, which I never eat, it could be enough to make my body full-on revolt. Five hundred shameful calories and countless allergens later, the gurgling gut kicked in. Rumble, rumble. Pop. Pop. A Gatlin gun firing in a thunderstorm.

Gonna ignore it, and try and fall asleep. Hoping for the best. Hey, on a positive note, I knocked out another chapter on my novel. P-R-O-G-R-E-S-S. Slow, yes, but still trudging ahead!

July 10, 2013

Well, I started a novel. It’s not the first I’ve started (have two others in the works), but this one grew some legs and now I’m wanting to run with it. Out of the blue, the characters came to life in my brain and I’m having a blast giving them life on the page. None of my characters have allergies, so it’s definitely a work of fiction. Hardy har har.

Speaking of allergies, mine have been largely under control thanks to the GAPS program, which aims to heal the gut, and strict adherence to my list of non-problematic foods. Eating right really does the body good (although I must admit, I’m getting pretty darn tired of chicken and beef stock, and my regular add-in: broccoli, cauliflower, chicken and avocado chunks). In all honesty, I’d about kill for a slice of pizza. Not going to even consider it, though. Feeling like a normal human being is way better than a greasy, cheesy pie. I’ll now go curl up in a corner and recite that 100 times. Ha!

July 12, 2012

Years ago, before I made huge dietary changes for the sake of our health, we got lured into a product tasting at Costco that changed my life. And not for the better. This overly happy woman was serving samples of flavored, calorie-free “sport water” and my husband and I liked the taste and bought an entire flat of the stuff. Every day, we’d drink that pinkish drink and would do so with no guilt because, hey, it’s ZERO CALORIES. I’d long given up diet soda because of my concern about aspartame, but for some strange reason, I didn’t seem to notice the sucralose at the top of the ingredient list. After maybe a month, I started to notice increased anxiety, more headaches (even migraines), moodiness, restlessness and lousy sleep. I asked Brian if he noticed any changes and he also said he’d been getting headaches and not sleeping well. It took us some time before we remembered the new addition to our daily routine: those darn flavored waters from Costco.

I grabbed a bottle from the package and headed upstairs to investigate the ingredients. Sucralose (also known by the cutesy, innocent-sounding Splenda) was the first thing I researched and imagine my surprise when I discovered post after detailed post about the perils of ingesting that artificial sweetener. The symptoms listed by one nurse-author were precisely aligned with our own. I promptly scooped up the box of those waters, emptied them in the sink and tossed the bottles in the recycling bin. We vowed right then and there to never touch that stuff again – and we largely kept that promise, until recently.

Brian’s a gym rat who enjoys looking like a human Hulk. He came home with a huge container of chocolate-flavored protein powder and I didn’t even give it a second thought as he scooped the innocent-looking crap into the blender and mixed it with almond milk twice a day. He did this for close to three months – until he developed insomnia and obvious mood changes that neither of us could ignore. He became edgy (not with me, but I pitied the fool who cut him off in traffic or anyone else who looked at him sideways). He also became somewhat ‘flat.’ Not his usual comical, level and joyful self. It seemed an awful lot like mild depression, but who was I to expect him to be UP all the time? He finally admitted he hadn’t felt himself for some time and didn’t really know why or how to put his finger on it. I chalked it up to stress at work or the regular ups and downs of adulthood, but that didn’t really seem to fit. He hit the gym harder and kept on with those stupid protein shakes…and he progressively worsened.

One day, it hit me. I stood up from my computer and headed downstairs to pluck the protein drink from the pantry. Imagine my horror when I saw sucralose as a top ingredient! How could we have not paid attention to that? That day, we trashed that mix and he stopped cold turkey. I found him an all-organic pea protein mix with no artificial sweeteners…and we waited to see if there was any improvement. The headaches stopped after just one week, thankfully, but it took much longer (over a month) before his moodiness, flatness and sleeplessness corrected. It was very obvious to us both that the sucralose (Splenda) was to blame. We were relieved, but angry that we hadn’t noticed sooner. I’m no scientist, so I can’t speak about the dangers of sucralose from a scientific standpoint, but as consumers who, well, consumed the stuff with regularity, we can attest that it’s definitely not good for OUR bodies. If you’re an artificial sweetener junkie, I’d encourage you to research its ingredients thoroughly and consider switching to honey or plain cane sugar. In a pinch, even packets of table sugar are far better than the chemical-laden crystals in those little, harmless-looking pastel packets.

April 2, 2011

When Food is NOT Your Friend (a bit of my back story and ‘How I got here’)

Well, here I am…decades after my first foray into the not-so-fun world of food allergies. It’s funny how something I’ve been battling since I was barely potty-trained would still be consuming so much of my life. I should be used to it, I suppose, but – alas – here I am, journaling on this very uncool subject at 9 p.m. on a random Thursday night.

To say I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired is an understatement. Since grade school (well, actually before that, according to my parents), I’ve had migraines and stomach cramps so bad they could drop a horse. I spent so much time on the throne that my buns would fall asleep. The cot in the school nurse’s office had my name on it; I spent so much time there, in fact, that when the nurse called my mom (or grandma) to come get me, she had the numbers memorized (God bless you, Mrs. Merrill!). My headaches were so horrific, I’d hide under beds to avoid light and noise. I even passed out from the pain (or maybe it was from the hyperventilated crying – whatever the case, it was a relief to escape the agony, even if only for a few minutes). Mom kept ‘the pan’ on deck in case nausea struck. Excedrin that made my hands shake and Pepto in its hot pink glory were always within reach, along with the cobalt blue jar of Vick’s vapor rub that my dear and desperate mother slathered on my forehead before layering on an ice-cold compress. All because I ate a food (sometimes, just a bite or two), my body would, without fail, wage an all-out war against itself.

A trip to Mickey D’s is fun for most kids, for sure, but it was anything but a Happy Meal for me. Don’t get me wrong. I loved the taste of a cheeseburger and fries as much as anyone, but I loathed being locked in a bathroom stall just minutes after eating those little golden potato sticks. And I really despised sitting in the backseat of our old Ford, gripping my stomach and bawling my eyes out while, still an hour away from home, my dad drove frantically down dark country roads in search of a public toilet. Mayor McCheese held me hostage. Hamburglar stole my smile. And Grimace? Well, that pretty much described me.

Fast food wasn’t the only thing that slowed me down. Pizza? Puh-leez! Nuts? Nope. Grains? Get real. Dairy? Don’t think so. Sugar? Uh-uh. I was six years old when doctors finally linked my chronic health problems to food allergies. While my parents were infinitely relieved a more insidious disease wasn’t to blame for my three-times-a-week migraines, accompanying barfing and chronic digestive problems, I doubt they were prepared for the mile-long list of off-limits foods, not to mention, hearing from doctors how my allergies were “the worst they’d ever seen.” My poor mother. Cooking was a nightmare, not just because I could eat almost nothing, and the fact that she had to create different menus for me and my sisters, but also because the foods that made me the least sick were also the ones that would curdle almost any normal kid’s stomach. I was thrust into a world of weirdo meals: a dozen lima beans with an all-natural, unseasoned beef patty, for example — on a plate with no bun (couldn’t eat wheat), no ketchup (tomatoes were a no-no) and no mustard (gave me heartburn so bad it could catch the house on fire). A side of iceberg, well, that was about the extent of it. Kid parties were not parade, either. When I’d reach for a cream-slathered cupcake like the other kids, or even a seemingly harmless hot dog, a mother would run over at Steve McQueen speed to steer me to a bowl of green grapes. Joy.

But with a stringent rotation diet and weekly shots, I did improve. Baby fat fell off. My big, floppy hats and Elton John-esque sunglasses that helped stave off migraines weren’t needed nearly as frequently. I spent less time in the john and more time on the playground. I started to feel like a normal kid and, amazingly, by the time I hit High School, I all but kicked those food allergies to the curb. Sure, I’d get some killer headache and stabbing stomach pains here and there, but who didn’t, right? Pizza was no longer the enemy. I was no longer bound to oddball home-made lunches. Even the Golden Arches seemed, well, a bit more golden. I was finally free!

Or so I thought. The allergies came back with a vengeance. Then again, maybe they never really went away at all. Perhaps they were just on a brief hiatus…giving me a false sense of security and just waiting to rear their ugly head, only in a different way (helloooo, welts and hives!). Whatever the case, they’re baaaaaack. And they’re a real bitch. Which brings me to this blog. I’m more committed than ever to uncovering this lifelong mystery and finding a way to get well while living in a Foodie Nation. I’m trying it all: naturopathy, allergy institutes, IgE and IgG panels, food restriction and strict rotations, probiotics, GAPS, I.V. therapy, vitamin and mineral supplements, acupuncture, chiropractic (more on that later), reiki, muscle testing, biofeedback and, well, you get the picture.

I’m allowing myself to be poked and prodded. In some ways, I’m not only swallowing a gaggle of supplements and bland foods, but also a bit of my pride. I’m my own science experiment, for sure, but if it helps me (and anyone else) along the way then my efforts won’t be in vain. Stick with me, kid…

March 24, 2010

Okay, I’m now four days into this strict elimination/rotation diet. Despite my hunger pangs and embarrassing stomach growling that accompany my more limited food days, I’m hugely encouraged!

Would you believe my anxiety has subsided and I’m back to being able to deal with work stresses more effectively (and without hand-wringing and tears)? I’m no longer emotionally ‘flat.’ I’m smiling (a lot) and feeling like my old, cheery, positive self. My headaches and stabbing gut pains are improving. I’ve only been on this diet for a three full days!

Know what else I’m celebrating? My bloating is better (goodbye gerkin fingers! Sayonara, distended stomach!) and my jeans are already looser. If only I could have some wine (or even some smooshed grapes) to toast these victories!