I think it’s the little things that bother me the most. The gluten-free thing doesn’t bother all that much. There are plenty of alternatives out there, and so much more variety. Sure, not being able to grab a bagel for breakfast, or not being able to try out a different restaurant is bothersome, but right now I’m okay with it.
No, what bothers me is having to be sure that the safe food and kitchen utensils are kept away from the unsafe ones. Making sure there are two different sponges for dishes. Knowing that someday, parking farther away at the grocery store is not going to be an option. Not being able to spontaneously kiss my husband because he may have had something with gluten in it. Not being able to walk barefoot because there may be crumbs on the floor that have been tracked from the kitchen. These are the things that are bothering me the most.
True, they can be overcome. We now have space designated for safe and unsafe things. We now have two sponges that are specific colors so everyone will know which one to use. If I need to in the future, I can get a handicap parking sticker (please let that be for a long time yet!). My husband can brush his teeth when he knows he’s eaten something unsafe for me. And I can wear flip-flops and we can use my brand-new vacuum cleaner with the dustmop attachment much more often than we do. These things are doable. But there’s always something else that makes me stop for a second and think, “I can’t ever do this again.” And that bothers me a lot. And it hurts. A lot.