People often ask me, “What is it like? What happens?” Some are sheepish or shy about asking, others are avid and openly curious, but either way they want to know. Sometimes they’ve heard it’s like having the flu, but don’t know that it can be different for different people.
Recently, I was traveling for the first time in a few years, and got badly glutened on the last day of the trip. it was the first travel day that I wasn’t able to make my own food, and had no choice but to buy “gluten free” food from restaurants. I will never know which food caused the trouble, but I do now remember quite vividly what my daily life was like before I went GF. I was trying to explain it to one of my best friends. The explanation went something like this.
“Imagine you’re a raw recruit in bootcamp. It’s the third day, and you’ve just realized this is going to be harder than you expected. Then the sergeant comes, and before you know you’re all suited up in 50 pounds of body armor, carrying two backpacks, and miles away from camp with no idea how long the hike will be. You’re dragging, trying to find a second wind, then crumpling; trying to find a third wind; a fourth …”
“I’m sorry,” said my girlfriend.
“No, wait,” I answered, “That’s just the beginning.”
“You realize you aren’t in bootcamp after all. You’re somewhere else, a forest or jungle or something. The weather is strange, hot, then cold. Or maybe you’re sick. You feel queasy, sweating and chilling at the same time. Somehow ants have crawled in under the armor, and they’re biting you, something fierce.
“And you’ve been drugged. You’re confused, not sure where you are, what you’re supposed to be doing, who you’re with. You just keep moving because if you don’t you feel like you’ll never move again. Your eyes keep closing, and half the time you are walking (stumbling, actually) with your eyes closed, catching a quick blurred glimpse, and falling closed again. But you are at least moving! Hey, that’s something to be proud of, right?
“And then you open your eyes. You’re in an office building, surrounded by people. You know you work with them, but you can’t remember their names. They are all looking at you, wary, like you just said something crazy or did something scary. You don’t remember. What did you say? What should you say? You shrug, grin lopsided, ask what’s next, as if it makes sense, and you pray that it does. But you still feel like you’re 200 pounds heavier and drugged.”
That’s what it feels like when I get glutened. How long did it last? This time was especially bad — around a week and a half. I managed to do what I needed to do for work, collapsed when I got home, made it through and made sense most of the time. And I am very, VERY grateful that this is no longer my everyday life. That it stops.