After a week of juicing, I lost my resolve and had to get something more substantial into my belly. I cheated with a few crackers once in awhile, and then it seemed to snowball from there. While I still believe that the Mean Green Juice fast can be very beneficial, I guess I wasn't quite ready to take that path.
However...
More than a year later, I've discovered many interesting things. A recent visit to my doctor revealed that I have 11 known food allergies, which are likely causing many, if not all of my health issues. I felt relieved initially, having just received validation for how indescribably cruddy I've felt for so many years.
After a short time, the reality set in. Food elimination is highly challenging, since most of our customs are centered on celebrating with food. Eating out became an exercise in frustration, since most restaurants cook with foods and oils that I can no longer ingest with good results. I felt bad sending the waitperson scurrying to deliberate with the cooking staff over which foods on the menu wouldn't harm me. Dairy, gluten, wheat, soy, corn and eggs made up the original list of known allergens. Okay, no problem. There were alternatives, and I set out to discover new ways of preparing foods that were healthier choices for a gal like me. I was steadfast in my quest to heal completely, and took a lot of time and effort to make every meal from absolute scratch. That, in itself, became a full-time job.
The problem was, after a few months of steadfast compliance, I wasn't feeling any better. The doctor ordered more blood work, and rice, potatoes, tomatoes, strawberries, and...gulp...bananas were added to the list of foods that my body has become convinced are bad for me. Darkness fell. Gone were the strawberry/banana/yogurt smoothies that I love so much. Rice and potatoes, foods that are often substituted for wheat and other gluten-laden grains for allergic folks, became enemies to my system. Pasta and my famous tomato-based sauce became a big, fat no-no...and I'm Maltese in heritage! Attending summer festivals and parties became torturous, as I watched people moving along, mindlessly shoving whatever they desired into their mouths, and I could have none of it. I felt like a destitute child pressed against the barren side of a busy cafe window. There was no place in there for me.
Depression quickly crept in, and I cried. A lot. About food. I cried about food! I hadn't done that since I was a child and finished my days as hungry as when they started. I became that emaciated little girl again in my mind, and it wasn't pretty. Rich, my faithful companion and husband-to-be, couldn't bear to watch me suffer - even though I kept most of it to myself. He suggested a couple of times that I needed a second opinion. That irritated me. How does one get a second opinion when blood tests clearly show what the culprits are? He further intoned that there must be another method of treatment for food allergies. This irritated me more, and I expressed as much. Rather loudly. Smart man that he is, he retreated and left me to stew.But, much like the oyster and the sand, that irritation began to transform. I decided that I was not content to spend the rest of my days in such a limited culinary fashion. That condemned a life is absolutely unacceptable for me! Rich's idea that that the allergies themselves were just symptoms and that there must be a source, spoke directly to my beliefs on healing. Research maven that I am, I began to explore the possibilities. What I uncovered may very well be a life-changer for me.
Stay tuned for more about that...
