Greetings, all, hope this finds you well. The following is my journal entry from the night before I began my new celiac lifestyle. I wrote it to help process my own feelings, and thought it may be beneficial for another struggling "newby" to realize you are truely not alone. Where to Now?I'm angry and lost. Thought I'd found the answer recently with a name to the mysterious symptoms that have consumed me for months; the need for more sleep than a newborn, irritability...okay, b%$@#iness to a new level, nagging bone and joint pain, a persistent mental fog, a huge weight loss that not only sucked my fat stores (don't miss 'em a bit) but my already scant muscle mass. I have Celiac disease. I've been a lot of things in my life; daughter, wife, etc., but now I have been thrust into this new group, to which I'm forced to be a member for life. I'm not liking this. I've moved swiftly past the "relief" phase of eventual diagnosis, lingered only briefly in the "fear" phase after learning of the multitude of plagues that I am now more likely to develop, spent some time in the "pity" phase...not particularly proud of that one, and now am firmly planted in "anger". I'm mad because today I ate my last piece of Duncan Hines Devil's food cake with additive laden canned frosting and little candy sprinkles, EVER! I'm drinking my last beer as I write this (not that big a deal, more ceremonial, I guess). I'm mad at my husband for not being supportive, though I really don't know what I need. I thought that a shoulder rub for my aching bones would be helpful but that proved too much to ask. I hear my own voice echo "you can't expect others to make you happy, it begins with you" but I just don't have it in me right now. People nod and pretend to understand the scope of my diagnosis, but no one can, really. I've spent hours on-line gathering information and diet restriction lists longer than my scrqwny arm, but haven't been able to get a sense of hopefulness from another Celiac yet. (Shhh, I know it comes from within...I'm trying...)I'm b%$@#y and I'm sick. I'm scared still too, evidently, and surprised at the ease in which the tears spill and flow down my cheeks as I type. I've alienated people that I don't like much right now anyway. What parts are me, what parts are the changes in my brain matter, and what parts are them? Does it even matter? This is the mess I have to deal with. Forever. So I guess I better come up with a plan and suck it up in the meantime. So, life goes on. In the big picture this is just another roll I'm going to have to stumble my way through learning. We're all working without a net most of the time, anyway, aren't we? And honestly, I haven't fallen yet that I didn't get back up.