My path to gluten-free, plant-based living wasn’t a single decision, it was a series of moments, some by choice and some by surprise, that eventually led me exactly where I needed to be.
2010: When wheat and I parted ways
In 2010, I gave birth to my daughter, one of the most beautiful experiences of my life. What I didn’t expect was what came after: a fully developed allergy to wheat. My body had simply changed during pregnancy, and gluten was no longer something I could tolerate. It wasn’t a lifestyle choice at first. It was just… my new reality.
Navigating gluten-free eating in 2010 was not easy. The options were limited, labels were confusing, and eating out felt like a research project. But I adapted, I learned, and eventually it became second nature.
2015: A challenge, a loss, and a turning point
Five years later, I turned 40. For most people, a birthday is just a birthday. For me, it carried weight. My mother had died when she was 40. I was still a teenager when I lost her. Turning the age she never got to grow past made me think deeply about my own health, my own longevity, and what I was putting into my body.
I hadn’t been feeling my best, and I decided to do something about it. I signed up for a 30-day vegan challenge. No meat. No dairy. Just plants, and in my case, no gluten either.
Within weeks, I felt different. Better. Lighter. The kind of good that isn’t dramatic or sudden, it just quietly settles in and you realize one day that the fog has lifted. By the end of 30 days, I didn’t want to stop. So I kept going.
The night in Milwaukee that confirmed everything
A few weeks past my challenge, I was traveling for work in Milwaukee. After a long day, I found myself at a restaurant with almost nothing I could eat. Tired and hungry, I ordered the only safe-looking option: a gluten-free veggie pizza. It had cheese on it. I figured one meal wouldn’t matter.
It mattered.
After more than six weeks without dairy, my body had apparently decided it was done with it entirely. I spent that night with a stabbing headache and ended up sick. It turned out I had been lactose intolerant for who knows how long, I just never knew it because I’d never gone without dairy long enough for my body to tell me.
That uncomfortable night in a hotel room was, strangely, clarifying. My body had spoken. Loudly. I listened.
Today
I’ve been gluten-free and vegan ever since. I’m healthy. I have energy. As long as I avoid wheat and dairy, I don’t have issues, and that trade-off feels like an extraordinarily fair deal.
This blog isn’t about being perfect or preaching to anyone. It’s about sharing what works for me, the meals, the products, the restaurants, the hacks for traveling, the moments of joy that come from food that genuinely feels good. Whether you’re already living this way, just curious, or somewhere in the middle, you’re welcome here.
Pull up a chair. There’s plenty to eat.