What You Don't See - Allergies
- TaliaBelleLifestyle

- 1 day ago
- 2 min read
Living with food allergies isn’t just a medical condition; it’s a lifelong psychological experience. It shapes how you move through the world, your relationship with your body, and how you define safety. Food allergies are about so much more than what you can or can’t eat. They bring an ever-present undertone of worry and a constant need to feel secure and in control, which impacts how you connect with other people. My experience has been challenging in ways, but also deeply formative.
On the outside, I look normal. I’m a typical teen girl who loves soccer, school, my family, and having fun with friends. I’m capable and independent. But internally, I carry a heavy and invisible burden of fear. I’ve heard more times than I can count some version of, “You’ll be fine,” or “You worry too much.” But I’m not dramatic about my allergies. I talk about them only when I must.
Still, when people look at me and see a “normal” kid, it’s easy for them to dismiss the very real worries I feel. Few people realize how often my mind is busy running calculations, reading labels, checking ingredients, remembering my EpiPens, and weighing the risk versus the reward of something as simple as grabbing a snack with friends. That constant awareness never really turns off.
My allergies have also given me a complicated relationship with my body. I love and appreciate it, but I can also resent it for overreacting to nuts and making life feel more stressful than it should. As I get older, though, I’m learning to accept both parts of that truth and to feel grateful for the person I’ve become because of the challenges.
Living with allergies has taught me important lessons. I’ve learned that you can’t tell what someone is carrying just by looking at them. Most of us walk around with invisible burdens. In this way, my allergies have taught me to be kinder to myself, less judgmental of others, and more willing to truly get to know people. Maybe that’s something people don’t see either. There’s a quiet strength and compassion that can grow from the struggles no one else notices.




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