Saturday, April 10, 2010

Trust but Verify...

I made a discovery yesterday. One of those discoveries which cause an already pained stomach to sink farther into its dark miserable depths. One which only select few ever realize: "I have been poisoning myself."

The digestive enzymes (doctor recommended and prescribed) I began taking about a week ago, have Malt Distase in them. For a few days, they really seemed to be digesting all of the food that normally just sits, yelling obscenities at me. But after those precious few days? Profanity again...

My bordering paranoia of what I eat, of needing to verify what is in it, where was it prepared, who has touched it; my obsession with clean counters and wiping off shared counters before and after they are used -- these protection mechanisms, grown from distrust (someone, for example, once offered me "white" bread, because it wasn't "wheat" and therefore I could eat it. Right?); these survival skills for a gluten-filled world, usually keep me safe, if somewhat alienated.

My instinct, (and yes, the doctor), failed me...

"Maltase"; yes, it should have raised all kinds of red flags in warning. That first etymological indicator of 'malt!' The bottle, however, says "Wheat Free" (not "gluten-free' though, and therefore its danger should have been realized! The doctor said "take;" and, I Trusted and Took.

This experience, reiterated the lessons I have been learning, unfortunately, over the past year. Through a divorce, there came painful admittance and ultimately acceptance that people don't change, and sometimes even evolve into beings father and farther away.

My stomach? No one is its Protector if I am not. No one can feel its curses or hear its complaints. It can be trusted to no one. And, if a leash of trust is extended, a clasp of verification must be offered in return.

I "trust"; but, only after it has been verified with proven action. And, that really isn't trust now, is it?

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