How My Body Taught Me That Food Choices Matter

To honor my holiday vacation, I’m reposting this blog from April, 2023.

Eight years ago in mid-December, I checked myself into the ER. It turned out that my appendix had burst approximately three months prior, with all the complications that accompany a life-threatening infection. I spent 12 days in the hospital and had two surgeries before moving in with my mom for an additional month because I was too weak to take care of myself on my own.

I endured a year of slow recovery before something triggered my system that suddenly gave me near-debilitating arthritis and an increased sensitivity to foods. Over the next six months I slowly just stopped eating because being hungry was preferable to the pain, depression and fatigue that accompanied digestion.

Some foods hurt me worse than others, and I eventually reached the point where I ate little besides cabbage and avocados. I felt like I was dragging my body through the heaviest mud imaginable, and nothing could lighten the weight.  

I tried every diet I could find, was dismissed and mistreated by numerous doctors, penalized at work for talking to HR about taking medical leave, and was starting to panic that the future I envisioned might never materialize as my body continued to fail.

Through random chance, someone recommended a diet plan that excluded foods containing the lectin protein in seeds that are hard on sensitive digestive systems. It proposed eliminating all grains, fruits, and grain-fed animal products along with any preservatives. Within four days of starting this new plan, I began to feel better. I’ve now been following this diet for five years and in many ways have been able to return to the life I hoped for.

I became an anti-hunger advocate and food justice champion long before I got sick. I was already committed to making food a fun and communal experience rather than just a vehicle for nutrition.

But over the last five years of learning how sensitive my body is to my food choices, my understanding of food insecurity has changed dramatically.

My quality of life is entirely determined by my diet- how well I sleep, how much energy I have, my focus at work, and my capacity to manage emotional burdens. And my understanding of my nutritional needs is constantly changing and evolving.

I’m lucky to have always been able to afford and prepare the food I need. I could buy artichokes, sardines, and radicchio, all foods which at one time held an important role in my recovery.

But I know that if I was dependent on a food pantry or SNAP benefits for my nutrition, I would still be miserably sick. My diet would be determined by the options available, rather than by what my body needed.

I know that if I allowed someone else to determine what foods I eat- even someone well-educated in nutrition- they would not get it right. Everyone knows their own needs best, and my role working in food pantries is to facilitate that as best as I can.

Many people experiencing food insecurity have never had the opportunity to make intuitive food choices before. The food they eat is determined by what they can afford or what the food pantry is able to give them. I don’t want anyone else to ever be as sick as I was, so I am committed to ensuring that people facing food insecurity can choose what and how much they want to eat.

There are still times where I rage about the things my illness has taken from me- the freedom to eat out at a restaurant without scrutinizing the menu, the enjoyment of a good whiskey, or eating pizza with my partner.

But upon reflection, I also see that it has given me invaluable experience and the tools I need for being a better anti-hunger advocate and helping my food pantry always do better for the people we serve.

The opinions expressed here are solely my own and do not express the views or opinions of my employer.

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