Jan snapped this photo last night. This was ten minutes after dinner. The pain seared between my eyes. My ankle was throbbing and burning. The back of my hand was screaming to be scratched; the hives raised and red. My stomach fluttered and surged.

“I have to go to bed!” I said suddenly, “I need to lay down!”

And he looked shocked. And the kids looked at me suddenly. Jan pushed his plate back and said: do not eat anymore pasta tonight. None.

We stepped out onto the back deck, and tried to let the cool air wash some of it away. Eventually, I just drank down some headache meds, slathered on some ointment, and curled into bed with a cold wash cloth.

We did not get to the New to Me 9pm video last night, suffice to say.

I had a conversation with my allergist this week. She agrees that it’s a gluten sensitivity. And all we can do now is work within the confines of my diet through trial and error. We’ve basically figured out that I have to gauge how much I’ve eaten through the day. Have I had a bagel with breakfast? What did lunch look like? What can I have for dinner based on the previous two meals?

In addition to the gauging of food, I’ve soared to 217 pounds. This is even heavier than I was at my biggest pregnancy. My depression is at full tilt with my weight. My clothes don’t fit correctly. And I find myself just hanging in front of the pantry door, eating M&M’s like a teenager too listless to make something decent for dinner. This has crossed over from my physical health. This is now my mental health waning.

And it doesn’t help that each of us are searching for meaning in this weird, wild west of a world we’re stuck trying to survive. How can I try to lose weight, or stay active, when I’m anxious about the growing numbers surging around me?

Fortunately, my family doctor called this morning, and we’re going to re-test my thyroid and see if the dose is too low. And we know that if I’m going to go full tilt into a steaming pot of mac and cheese, it had best on a day I haven’t had any other gluten, cause I’m going to be out for the count.

I feel you, friends. Whatever you’re battling, whatever you’re feeling, whatever you’re dealing with, it all feels magnified by a million. And I get it.

— c ☆