Learning to Live Again

Life after my diagnosis wasn’t the instant relief I imagined.
It was uncomfortable, awkward, and sometimes painful in a different way.
Even when I finally knew what was wrong, I still had to face how much my life was going to change — and how much I didn’t want it to.

At first, I grieved food. The smell of fresh bread, pizza nights with friends, birthday cakes I couldn’t touch. I hated that something so small — a crumb — could undo me. It didn’t feel fair that everyone else could eat freely while I had to second-guess everything.

I went through phases of anger, exhaustion, and sadness. I’d spend hours reading labels, questioning ingredients, and wondering if I’d ever eat without fear again. Even now, there are days I miss the version of me who didn’t have to plan her entire life around food.

But slowly, I started finding myself again.
I learned what safe felt like. I found meals that didn’t make me sick. I discovered restaurants that actually took me seriously. I met people who asked questions because they cared — not because they doubted me.

And somewhere in between the pain and the patience, I found pride.
Pride in advocating for myself. Pride in learning what my body needs. Pride in saying no when something doesn’t feel right, even if it makes other people uncomfortable.

There’s still grief sometimes. There’s still anxiety.
But there’s also peace — the kind that comes from finally being able to trust my body again.

Celiac disease didn’t ruin my life.
It reshaped it.
It forced me to slow down, to pay attention, to stop apologizing for needing what I need.
It turned pain into awareness and isolation into purpose.

Because life after gluten isn’t about restriction — it’s about liberation.
It’s about finally knowing what’s been hurting you and choosing, every day, to honor your healing.

That’s what Celiac Baddie is all about — not just surviving this diagnosis, but learning how to live fully, safely, and unapologetically because of it.