31 Flavors of Fearless Two: Breaking Up With Bread

Breaking up is hard to do.

Especially when the object of your affections does not return your feelings.

When I went grain free for this assignment, I actually went through all the stages of grief one would expect with the loss of, well, a sentient being.

First there was denial. As crazy as it is to remember now, I almost gave up on this project before starting it. I was in denial that grains were doing to my body what I was being told they were doing. I was angry at myself for agreeing to it and frustrated with Debi for telling me this was a mandatory component to the process. I told everyone what a ridiculous plan it was and was heartened by their steadfast agreement.

Then, there was bargaining. A few days into the first week, I told myself I'd stick with the program but only for a little while. I told myself I'd allow myself some cheat days after everyone stopped following my series of articles. I promised myself that I'd eat a nice loaf of bread by summer.

By the beginning of week three I was beginning to get depressed. My morning breakfasts of eggs were wearing thin and all I wanted was a nice scone to go with my morning tea. That was a turning point, really because with Tara's help, I soon found lovely recipes that I could tweak and manipulate that would allow me to reach the final stage.

Acceptance.

It's funny, looking back on that first month and the emotions that roiled through me, I can't imagine not being where I am now.

What was it that made me so afraid to stop eating a food group?

That's at the crux of the matter. I was afraid. Of giving up a food. There was actual, bone deep fear of not being able to eat bread or pasta. I almost let that fear prevent me from taking that first step on a journey that is less about diet and more about discovering who I am and who I will become.

I was afraid of losing this.

Now? That seems almost crazy to me. I mean, it's delicious and all, but...

Two and a half months in, I feel fantastic and, for the first time in my life, I feel free. I'm free from counting calories, reading labels, worrying about fat grams, or trying the next great diet fad. Even better, I'm free from disappointment and discouragement that this diet or that one isn't working.

I think, to some extent, grains and sugar are, to me, like a form of addiction. Some people can eat a few chips or one cookie. Some people can eat a slice of toast or a single slice of fresh baked bread. I'm not one of those people. Accepting that and realizing I feel healthier and happier when I'm not jonesing for my next "fix" was a giant mental leap.

I talk to people now who tell me they could never give up bread. I tell them it isn't really a big deal. After all, it's just bread. They ask me when I'm going to "re-introduce" grains into my diet. I shrug and let the conversation change course because today? At this moment? I don't really want it. Will I eat a slice of French toast with maple syrup again? Probably. But the thing is...I don't really care if I do or don't and that freedom was worth facing the fear because what is more important that bread?

Feeling this good.