About

The origin story nobody asked for (but here we are).

I swam competitively growing up and even had the honor of being a scholarship athlete. I ate everything, because I could, because I trained hard enough to need to, because food was fuel and nothing more complicated than that. It was delightful actually. I had zero food allergies for the first twenty six years of my life. Then we went backpacking in Arkansas when I was seven months pregnant.

Yep.

I got a tick bite. We brushed it off because that’s what you do when you’re the kind of people who think backpacking at seven months pregnant is completely reasonable. We moved on. My son was born healthy and wonderful, and I didn’t think about that tick again.

What I did start thinking about, a few weeks after he arrived, was why a plate of pork chops was sending me to the floor with what felt like full flu symptoms and violent gastrointestinal symptoms. Chills, sweating, digestive chaos, the works. It took me longer than I’d like to admit to connect “ate pork” to “feels like death” because that is not a sentence any previously healthy adult expects to say.

I cut out pork. Then beef started doing the same thing. Then we moved (fourteen hours from Iowa to southwest Arkansas) and right after my daughter was born, the wheels really came off. Avocados. Bananas. Mushrooms. Lettuce. Eggs. One by one, more foods joined the “apparently not anymore” list.

(I’ve gotten lettuce back. Eggs are possible if they’re baked in and in small amounts. That’s the win column. We celebrate small victories here.)

The doctor who told me I was just a woman.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, I had what I can only describe as episodes: crushing abdominal pain, symptoms that mimicked a gallbladder attack, and I finally agreed to go to the doctor hoping for answers. Side note – it’s not easy when you’re a stay at home mom of little children and family is all 14+ hours away. Finding time to sort out my health just wasn’t at the top of my list. Anyway, I finally went to see a doctor, well, nurse practitioner, whom I hoped to get answers from.

What I got instead was the “three F’s.” Fat, fertile, female. He told me I checked all the boxes for having suffered a gall bladder attack. Despite my explaining that I’d been dealing with these symptoms for YEARS. That was his clinical assessment of why I probably needed my gallbladder out. I was thirty-two years old and, for the record, not obese. Several expensive tests later, it wasn’t my gallbladder. Shocking, I know.

Life changing answers.

I eventually made my way to a naturopathic physician in Phoenix, out of pocket, because I had run out of answers closer to home. My parents live in Phoenix and my kids and I roadtrip out there often. My Mom found the physician and I relented and said yes. She took one look at my (lengthy) symptom history and said the thing nobody had thought to say: let’s test you for celiac. The blood test came back positive. An endoscopy at a clinic at home later confirmed it. Now that, was actually a shocker.

Here’s the twist that still gets me: I had no recognizable reaction to wheat. No bloating, no obvious symptoms after eating gluten. Atypical presentation, which is why it took so long and why a casual doctor could miss it for years. My body was taking damage while I had no idea. The official Alpha Gal Syndrome diagnosis came right after, via blood test. So: Alpha Gal (a tick-bite-triggered allergy to mammalian meat and byproducts) and Celiac Disease (an autoimmune condition where gluten destroys the small intestine) confirmed within months of each other.

The combination is rarer than rare. The dietary Venn diagram of “what I cannot eat” is a very specific, occasionally maddening overlap. Sometimes I wonder if there is a correlation between the two and if the stress brought on from the Alpha Gal symptom (plus a big life change like moving cross country) actually triggered the Celiac Disease, but, who knows.

The question that still follows me.

My father died of esophageal cancer at fifty-eight. We were estranged, and his story is not mine to fully tell, but here’s what I think about sometimes: esophageal cancer is one of the possible long-term consequences of undiagnosed, untreated Celiac Disease. I’ll never know if that played a role. But I think about it. And it’s part of why I take my own diagnosis seriously. If you’re newly diagnosed and feeling overwhelmed, I see you. Get the answers. Advocate like your health depends on it, because it does.

The choice that made this blog possible.

After the diagnoses, I had a decision to make. I had always traveled. It was part of who I was, who we were as a family. And I was now living in southwest Arkansas. Beautiful, genuinely, but not exactly a metropolitan food allergy hub. My local options for safe eating were… let’s say limited. I could let that shrink my world. Or I could figure it out.

I chose to figure it out. I kept traveling with my kids. I got good at calling ahead, at reading menus like legal documents, at having the kitchen conversation without making it a whole thing. I learned which questions to ask and which restaurants were worth the risk. I got very good at puzzles, and packing my own snacks. Whether it was a road trip, plane trip, canoe trip, or camping trip.

Ten years later, I’ve eaten my way through some incredible places: safely, deliciously, and boldly.

Even more options now.

The food allergy landscape has genuinely changed. There are places now that don’t just accommodate you, they’re built for you. Conifer in Bentonville, Arkansas is an entirely gluten-free restaurant, which means you walk in and the default answer to “is this safe?” is yes, a feeling that never gets old. Also in Bentonville, Onyx Coffee at the Momentary defaults to oat milk instead of dairy, which is a small thing that signals a lot. These places exist and I’m going to help you find them.

I partnered with Oklahoma City Tourism and spent time eating my way through a city that genuinely surprised me. Kitchen 324 and The Press were standouts, the kind of restaurants where the kitchen conversation isn’t a burden, it’s just part of how they cook. OKC is absolutely on the “safe and delicious” list now.

I’ve had chefs come out to my table. I’ve had moments in restaurants that I will remember for the rest of my life, despite (or maybe because of) the restrictions. That’s what this blog is all about. Helping you live your best life, alongside food allergies and autoimmune disease. To celebrate it, rather than think of it as a hindrance to a full life.

What Alpha Celiac Gal actually is

This is a travel, adventure and lifestyle blog for women who eat differently and refuse to stay home. It’s not survival-mode content. It’s not “here are the five safe snacks to pack in your carry-on” (though I’ll tell you those too). It’s the restaurant in a unique destination, where the chef spent twenty minutes with me to make sure every course was safe. It’s the hotel that actually got it right. It’s the solo trip I almost didn’t take that ended up being the best experience of my life.

I’m in my early-forties, my kids are growing up, and I’m not slowing down. If anything, the adventure is just getting started.

If you have Celiac, Alpha Gal, or both, you’ve just found your person. If you’re newly diagnosed and terrified about what travel even looks like now, you’ve really just found your person.

We’re going to eat well. We’re going to go boldly.

Let’s go.

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Start here: Who Is Alpha Celiac Gal? My 10-Year Journey with Celiac + Alpha Gal Syndrome

Come find me

On Instagram: I’m @alphaceliacgal, where the beautiful (and honest) life and travel moments live.

eat well. go boldly.