Finding Meaning in Restriction

Celiac disease means restriction. You can’t eat what you want. You can’t eat spontaneously. You can’t eat without thinking.

But here’s a counterintuitive question: is there meaning in restriction itself?

The Assumption We Start With

Most of us assume more is better:

• More choices = more freedom
• More options = better life
• Fewer restrictions = more happiness

Celiac disease challenges this. You have fewer choices. Does that mean less happiness?

Not necessarily.

What Restriction Teaches

Appreciation

Before celiac, I ate bread without thinking. It was just there, sandwich bread, dinner rolls, toast. Background food.

Now, when I have a really good piece of gluten-free bread (rare, but it happens), I notice it. I appreciate it.

Scarcity creates attention. When you can’t have everything, you pay attention to what you do have.

Intentionality

Every meal requires thought. What am I eating? Is it safe? How is it prepared?

This is exhausting, but it’s also intentional. I’m not mindlessly shoveling food. I’m present.

There’s something to be said for not being on autopilot.

Resilience

Navigating celiac disease requires problem-solving, adaptation, self-advocacy. These are skills that transfer.

When life throws other challenges, I’m not as rattled. I’ve already learned to adapt. I’ve already learned that I can handle difficulty.

Restriction builds muscle.

Empathy

I understand what it’s like to be different now. To have needs others don’t understand. To feel like a burden.

This has made me more compassionate toward others with limitations, dietary or otherwise. I see them now.

Restriction opens eyes.

Simplicity

My food life is simpler than it used to be. Fewer options means fewer decisions. I eat the same things more often. My kitchen is less cluttered.

This isn’t what I would have chosen, but it’s not all bad. There’s a kind of peace in not having to choose from everything.

The Limits of This Reframe

Let me be clear: I’m not saying celiac disease is good. It’s not.

And “finding meaning in restriction” can become toxic if it:

• Dismisses real suffering
• Prevents you from advocating for better options
• Becomes a reason to accept inadequate accommodation
• Turns into “you should be grateful for your illness”

The meaning isn’t that restriction is good. It’s that even within restriction, something can be cultivated.

Both/And

You can hold both realities:

• This is hard AND I’m learning something.
• I wish I didn’t have celiac AND I’ve grown through it.
• Restriction is loss AND something has been gained.

This isn’t contradiction. It’s complexity.

Philosophical Traditions

Many traditions have valued restriction:

Asceticism: Choosing to limit pleasures for spiritual growth. (You didn’t choose celiac, but some of the effects overlap.)

Fasting traditions: Most religions include fasting. The discipline of not eating is spiritually meaningful.

Minimalism: Fewer possessions, fewer choices, more focus. The constraint frees you for what matters.

Stoicism: Accept what you can’t control. Focus on what you can.

Celiac disease puts you in conversation with these traditions, whether you wanted to be or not.

Finding Your Meaning

What might meaning look like for you?

You might find meaning in advocacy. Helping others navigate what you’ve learned.

You might find meaning in community. Connecting with other celiacs.

You might find meaning in creativity. Cooking, adapting, inventing.

You might find meaning in gratitude. For what you can eat, for healing, for the GF products that exist now.

You might find meaning in resilience. Proving to yourself that you can handle hard things.

You might find meaning in acceptance. Making peace with what is.

The meaning isn’t built into celiac disease. You build it.

A Caveat About Timing

If you’re newly diagnosed or in a hard season, “finding meaning” might feel impossible or insulting.

That’s okay. Meaning-making is usually retrospective. You can’t force it in the middle of acute suffering.

Focus on surviving first. Meaning can come later.

What I’ve Found

I didn’t want celiac disease. I still don’t want it.

But I’ve found:

• A certain clarity about what matters
• Skills in adaptation I wouldn’t have otherwise
• Connection with others who understand
• Appreciation for food I never had before
• Resilience I didn’t know I had

This doesn’t make celiac worth it. It’s not a trade I would have made.

But since I’m here anyway, I might as well notice what’s also true.

A Prayer for Meaning

Lord, I didn’t choose this restriction. I wouldn’t have.

But You make all things new. Even this?

Help me find what can be found here. Not to pretend it’s good, but to not waste what might be redeemed.

Turn my limitation into something. Empathy. Wisdom. Patience. I don’t know what. But something.

Don’t let this be meaningless.

Amen.