Celiac Ninja's Blog

I've had issues since I can remember. In kindergarten I remember thinking all the other kids hated me, that there was something seriously different about me, something wrong. These thoughts were most likely from my negative family, seemed to be passed down. I believed those negative things and it hurt. Then they sent me to chiropractors at age five for scoliosis, which I did have, x-rays proved that there were three curves. Could be debilitating if it wasn't controlled soon. There came newer doctor visits, family got concerned when I didn't grow like the other kids. Doctors couldn't figure out how I got so malnourished and how my vertebrae got chipped. Blamed the later on too low of calcium in the diet. I tried to have fun like other kids, but I just got too hyper or pushed things too far, then got hurt. Couldn't join sports, that was bad for my back, everything hurt. Mother was a teacher at the same grade school, that did not go well for me. Kids did not like her while in her class and they did not like me.

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Step forward to maybe sixth grade, those negative thoughts about people hating me manifested into what I believed were demons harassing my mind. Joyous thoughts huh? A kid crying and shouting at herself, trying to fix what was wrong because nobody knew what was wrong. Why would anyone want to help a girl like that? Never occurred to me that food was the issue. Also never occured to doctors that a hormone imbalance was causing my anxiety, stress, nervous break downs, and paranoia. They didn't know anything. Dumb as mud. What was my diet like? Whatever Grandma amazingly whipped up in the kitchen like meatloaf or pies, or whatever mom bought cheap from the grocery store and microwaved which was usually Mac n' Cheese or nasty rubbery pork chops. It was quite the rich vs. poor eating. They lived pretty close to each other and they were very different people. I unfortunately was sick most the time. Sick from colds, flu's, indigestion, headaches, migraines, vertigo, and lovely sleep paralysis. Whatever was happening, I blamed me for not fitting in and being "broken". That too was another horrible thought that hurt me deep down, to call myself broken. Psychologically self traumatizing words hurt the most actually. They didn't know what to do, said I was too hyper and I made myself sick or I ate too much candy (which made me feel better, so I was scolded for doing something that made me feel better). Well, I just chalked that up to being 'my fault' on my long list of what was wrong with me. I rebelled at school, visited the principals office and the center where kids were taken out of class to "study" and chill out, more times than I was allowed. They couldn't get rid of me, I was a teacher's daughter.