Why Food Sensitivities Are So Hard

When Food Comes to the Party

Holiday weekends are all about food and games and people we love.

And it all sounds wonderful.

Until you have to bring your food sensitivities to the party.

There’s the obvious part, of course. Not eating favorite foods. Passing on something that looks really yummy. Answering questions. Reading labels. Trying to decide if the thing that seems safe is actually safe, or if you’re just feeling hopeful because it smells amazing.

But I think there’s more to it than that.

I think our identity changes a bit.

What we saw ourselves doing, what we imagined for the future, what we thought would always be easy, all of that can feel different once food sensitivities become part of the story.

Maybe that sounds a little dramatic.

But think about all the ways food shows up in our lives.

It’s tradition. Family. Memory. Identity. A form of communication. Sometimes love, with a questionable amount of cheese.

So I want to put this out here as encouragement.

You’re not crazy or overly emotional if the food sensitivity thing feels depressing.

It’s hard.

And it changes the rules of the game.

The Practical Puzzle Is Not the Whole Thing

While we’re working on solving the practical puzzle, it makes sense to take a little time to simply acknowledge that we may also be grieving something we’ve lost.

That’s one reason I am so passionate about food sensitivities.

I have felt, both personally and professionally, how often the medical world basically shrugs its shoulders at people with food reactions. Good luck. Try avoiding that. See you later.

And then you’re left trying to figure out the meals, the symptoms, the social situations, the questions, the pantry, the restaurant menu, and the tiny little emotional spiral that shows up when someone says, “Can’t you just have a little?”

So if we work a bit on the mind-game side of food sensitivities, the overall puzzle can become a little easier.

At least then we’re not fighting with ourselves.

The Grief Part

This is where the stages of grief can be useful: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.

We’re not going to unpack all of them here. But can’t you see pieces of them in yourself when you think about food sensitivities?

Denial.

Maybe this will go away if I ignore it.

Anger.

Why can everyone else just eat the thing?

Bargaining.

Maybe if I only eat a little. Maybe if it’s homemade. Maybe if I’m on vacation. Maybe if I take three supplements and pretend biology can’t see me.

Sadness.

Because you miss the ease. You miss the food. You miss not thinking about it.

And sometimes acceptance.

Not the cheerful, everything-is-fine kind.

The kind where you take a breath and say, “Okay. This is what my body needs right now.”

It Does Not Happen in Order

Keep in mind, these stages do not go in order.

They bounce all over the place.

I’ve been doing this thing for over 45 years, and I still have periods of anger. I still periodically try dairy ice cream, fingers crossed, with a level of hope that is frankly not supported by the historical evidence.

And then my body reminds me.

And then I usually shrug my shoulders and accept the situation again, with a little bit of hope that my body can still heal, change, and maybe someday make peace with dairy ice cream.

A wise friend of mine has indulged me on a few occasions, chatting about grief and loss and other light and airy kinds of topics.

He has a saying I love:

“Grief comes in fits and starts until it starts to fit.”

That feels true here.

Next-Level Self-Care

Be patient with yourself.

This is a big thing you’re dealing with. Food sensitivities affect what you eat, how you plan, how you gather with people, how you travel, how relaxed you feel around meals, and sometimes how much you trust yourself.

Part of the work is practical.

We look for patterns. We ask better questions. We consider stress, sleep, gut health, environment, genetics, and the other pieces that may be influencing how your body responds.

But part of the work is also learning how to stop fighting yourself.

Because you do not need shame on top of symptoms.

You need steadiness. Curiosity. A way to understand your body without turning every meal into a courtroom drama.

That is what I call next-level self-care.

Not pretending it’s easy.

Not forcing yourself to be positive.

Just telling the truth about what’s hard, while still leaving room for things to change.

60-Second Self-Care

Comfort food is such a big part of our culture.

Before you ended up on this food sensitivity path, what was your go-to comfort food when you felt sad, overwhelmed, tired, or just deeply done with the day?

Can you still eat it now?

If yes, beautiful. Keep that one in your back pocket.

If not, it may be time to find a new comfort food that fits your body now.

Because we all need a little self-indulgence periodically. Preferably the kind that does not require a recovery plan.

You have a couple of options.

First, you can update an old favorite with ingredients that work better for you. It may not taste exactly the same, but sometimes “close enough and doesn’t wreck me” is a valid food category.

Second, if that favorite dish just is not the same unless it tastes exactly the way it used to, look for something new and unrelated.

That may actually be easier.

Be curious. Be deliberate.

Take care of you.

And when you’re headed to a holiday meal or party, you can bring along your new comfort food for a little emotional back-up.

Who knows. You might help someone else try something new and wonderful, too.