Tamarah Rockwood

Occasion: You are invited to your friend's wedding. YAY! WEDDINGS! You want to go. But then you can't. Bummer.

My reality has to include social anxiety, because I have had social anxiety for as long as I can remember. School programs, football stadiums, parades, large parties . . . hell, even small parties. I would rather not. To the point that I will simply not attend. Not because I can’t handle it; I can. I just don’t enjoy the crowds, and I don’t enjoy my reaction to the crowds. I get bitchy and impatient, mostly with myself, and I actually don’t like being bitchy and impatient.

What I am not saying: "I am now going to take this opportunity to rub in your face what an inadequate parent you are for not sacrificing your entire life to homeschool your children, who you obviously don't love."

I couldn’t listen to another puerile sales pitch in someone’s living room, promising the moon and then selling you something that “tastes just like sugar.” (It doesn’t. Not even sort of.)

"Do not underestimate the idea of studying in Slovenia. Their tuition is free, their cost of living is reasonable and they have an incredible amount of programs available for American students."

Yet, there is life beyond just t-shirt and jeans. There is more to an ensemble than denim and scarves.

Before I discovered I had celiac, I ate whatever I desired. Since discovering this autoimmune blessing (yes, blessing), I research what food I am, not only putting into my body, but into my family’s as well. I taught myself how to cook nutritious food from scratch that actually tastes amazing (these two do not always go hand-in-hand).