Single & Celiac

Twenty-something. Gluten-free everything.

What goes on in the mind of a celiac during a gluten episode.

The following is brought to you by today's poor decision making. Is that…?

Is that what I think it is?

Oh shit. This is what that feels like. Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

Maybe it's not.

Maybe it's just indigestion.

Noooooooooooooo. Wrong. So wrong! Oh Lord. How bad is it going to be this time?

Focus. Focus. Focus. Ignore it. Be in the meeting. Stay with every-

BRAIN FOG.

Shit. There it is. Aaaand we're floating. Is it just me or did time slow down? It's just me. It's always just me.

FOCUS.

Try to remember what it feels like to not be glutened. Pretend it's not happening. Pretend you're seeing everything like everyone else. GET IN REAL TIME.

Don't puke.

Don't puke.

Don't puke YOU ARE NOT GOING TO RUN TO THE BATHROOM YOU ARE IN A CLIENT MEETING.

Breathe. Focus. Breathe.

I need to be horizontal, stat.

What was I thinking? What the fuck was I thinking eating those potatoes? That is not the normal potato side dish I get. Why did I think that was okay? WHY DIDN'T I ASK THE QUESTIONS?

"Oh, you're a little farm-to-table restaurant with organic, fresh, local, save-the-planet everything I'm sure everything here is fiiiiine. You couldn't possibly put flour on your 'house potatoes'."

Fuck you. Fuck you for deep frying those damn things.

I'm such an idiot. I knew it. I knew it as soon as the plate was in front of me. And the first bite I took? One of those damn potatoes.

Focus focus focus. Don't puke.

But should I puke? Would that help? What if it hasn't all made it to the small intestine yet? Maybe I can puke out the other half and save me 12 hours of agony?

OMG CARS WHY. I'm going to puke in the car. Ohhhhhh LORD it's happ - no. No it's not. Focus.

People keep looking at me funny. They know. I can tell they know. I'm acting high. They keep saying words but none of them make any sense. Repeat yourself please. Yes, repeat yourself. Yes, I don't get what you're saying. Yes, I know it should make sense. I am so overwhelmed by this average conversation.

Aaaaand anxiety attack. HERE IT IS. I want to run away. I want to cry and run and run and run and run and run and run but I can't get out of this chair. I can't leave. I can't cry. I'm in a meeting. Sit. Breathe. Sit. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. That's my heart. That's my heartbeat. I can FEEL my heartbeat and I'm not touching any part of my body. No one is even talking to me and I'm having anxiety like I'm on stage in front of 10,000 people. Actually it's worse. I'm having worse anxiety than if I was on stage in front of 10,000 people. THAT'S MY HEARTBEAT.

I can literally feel my small intestine inflaming. There is a tiny but MIGHTY fire engulfing my midsection. I bet it's blue. I bet it's a blue fire like a wizard-y fire like Harry Potter's. It's tiny but so destructive. What the fuck am I even talking about.

Leave. Go home. Leave. Speak as little as possible or you might puke. Go. Be. Horizontal.

Cars, fuck you. Why do you move so fast? Why am I almost out of gas RIGHT NOW?

Risk it. You can't puke at a gas station. I mean, you can, but ew.

Home.

Couch.

Pants off.

WATER.

I'm the worst celiac ever. I know better than this. Is everyone else like this? I swear I just got glutened like three weeks ago. This isn't healthy. I know this isn't healthy. I know better than this. How often do other celiacs get glutened? Are they as dumb as me? Will I get smarter the longer I go at this? Was this just a rookie mistake? But am I even a rookie anymore? How long is it going to fucking take for me to fully accept that this is my life now?

I can't even be adventurous with my POTATO order. Should I never eat out again? I just wanted to have a nice lunch with my mom, on a Thursday, on a whim. I just wanted to whimsically order a different kind of potato on the side. I can't even do that anymore. I can't believe I can't do that anymore. I'm such a freak.

How did I live like this for so many years?

I bet I'll have the runs tomorrow. Fuck.

 

The First Date

I lost my head in San Francisco*