Looking back at old photos, I don’t know how nobody noticed that something was wrong sooner. Before I knew the word, celiac weaved its way through every aspect of my life. I see a smiling little girl, several heads shorter than her peers, standing on her tiptoes to remain in frame. I had all the telltale symptoms of malnutrition. Yet words like “celiac” and “gluten” remained foreign concepts until I turned seven. A blur of hospital visits accompanied the usual playdates until one trip, when my diagnosis journey was over. The verdict was out: I had “celiac.”
But celiac, which was supposed to be the golden answer, brought more questions than answers. Life became split into two parts: before and after celiac. Before, I didn’t have to explain an illness I didn’t understand. Before, I didn’t dread the waiter coming to take the order at a restaurant. Before, I didn’t sit at birthday parties with an empty plate.
I picked up another photo, a little girl in a party dress. She’s leaving early to eat lunch at home.
After the diagnosis, I started noticing my symptoms as I smiled awkwardly at birthday dinners. After those countless events, I felt like somewhat of a doctor myself. Shortly after that, the interrogation lamp turned on. I faced questions from skeptical teachers and relatives. Nobody they knew had celiac, so the questions flooded in: where did it come from? What does it do? Is it even real? Are you faking it?
Despite realizing how strange those questions are now, they planted seeds of doubt in my mind that didn’t just concern celiac, but my passions as well. The slew of insecurity that arose from my diagnosis eroded my confidence. Did I actually know what I was talking about for my health? In math? In my favorite TV show? Though these questions seem trivial, small instances chipped away at my certainty.
These lingering inner voices held me back and prevented me from making the smallest decisions. But faced with all these questions — from others and myself — I’ve realized the best way to get over my uncertainty was through continuous self-advocacy. I gained experience in argument through clubs like debate and mock trial. While bombarded with rapid-fire questions, I learned how to not just speak for impersonal topics, but for myself as well.
Thanks to my experience with celiac, I still have plenty of opportunities to exercise this advocacy. Whether that be through tirelessly explaining what gluten is or by giving graphic descriptions of celiac at the dinner table, much to the discomfort of the host, I quickly gain confidence.
While it’s easier to avoid the ordeal of an explanation, over time, I’ve learned that the easy way isn’t always the correct way. Celiac teaches me far more than how to read ingredient labels, it teaches me to always fight for the better, whether in myself or others. Whether it is a curse or a blessing, I cannot deny it has granted me the opportunity to speak up.
