Just kidding. I don't really know what superheroes eat. But I, and by extension Eman, have been eating gluten-free for more than two years now. And I wonder how this plays into my life story.
I just finished reading Donald Miller's book on stories. It's called A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. I don't really understand the title, so I just call it the "book about stories." The essential question in the book is what kind of story do you want to be living? Do you want to be the character who gets a job, buys a house, and has kids - end of story? Or do you want to be part of a bigger story, maybe even an adventure? And, instead of avoiding the things that make us uncomfortable, maybe we need to face them and allow ourselves to grow and be changed.
So, I started asking myself how my gluten-free eating has changed me. In case you don't know, I am not eating gluten-free simply to be "healthier" or because it's the latest diet craze. I'm doing it because I experience strong physical (mostly neurological, and possibly other) symptoms when I do eat gluten. I'm doing it because my body is screaming that it's being hurt in some way and I need to take care of it.
The biggest challenge with gluten-free eating is going out to eat. The outside world, offering its delectables made with unknown ingredients, is suddenly a very dangerous place. In the early months of our marriage, I mostly hid out at home, because I was so worried about going out and accidentally eating something that would make me sick. We stopped seeing friends, because we couldn't do the same things (i.e., go out to eat) with them anymore. I've since come to accept my situation and learned new coping strategies, and yes, we are socializing again. As I think about my/our journey through this, I am so thankful for our friends. I can't think of a single friend we've lost because of my dietary restrictions. Instead, our friends have been uniformly supportive, often changing their own food choices to accommodate my needs.
Eman too has been unwaveringly supportive. The other Sunday, there was a barbecue at church and everyone was eating these delicious-looking teriyaki chicken plates with marinaded galbi. I wanted to stay and chat with people, but I couldn't eat anything on the plate. Eman refused to eat as well, as a show of support for me. At home, he has switched to eating gluten-free bread so there is no danger of cross-contamination in the toaster or me accidentally eating the wrong piece of bread.
I recently heard several stories of couples who have gotten closer after one person became injured. Their lives had to become more intertwined because the injured person needed so much help. And similarly, I think that Eman and I have gotten closer through this. He has told me many times that we are "in this together." We've had to struggle to find safe foods for me. We look at food labels together at the grocery store. He checks in on me regularly when we're out at a restaurant to make sure I"m feeling okay. And he's had to drive me home, with me barely able to talk, after I ate something with gluten despite our best efforts to prevent it.
I have seen the true character of the man I committed my life to. And I feel so blessed.
I have also learned to be more present, in the moment. Before this, my mind and my body were often not in the same place. My mind would be drafting an email or imagining the evening's social activity or planning how to accomplish my next professional goal. And my body would be, well, going through the motions of life. Even when my body was tired or not feeling great, I would just push through because I couldn't really hear what my body was saying. Now, now I have to be attuned to the signals of my body - do I feel okay? am I having any reactions to that questionable appetizer I just took a bite of? do I need to stop what I'm doing so that my body can recover?
As a result, I'm thinking less about what may come and more about what is already here. I pay more attention to what people are saying and doing. I experience things more instead of just thinking about them. And I recognize that I can't do it all, that I have limitations.
When I explain to friends that I have to eat gluten-free, they usually look at me with deep sympathy. "Wow, that sucks." Yeah, it sucks. I won't deny that. But it's also become part of my life story now, and maybe it will take me on adventures I never imagined possible.
