Neighbors, have you ever come across that quote (it’s a paraphrase of writing by Krishnamurti) that goes, “It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society”?
I often referenced that quote at the beginning of my autoimmune journey when I was learning about the power of food as medicine. That was more than a decade ago, and food as medicine is much less a fringe concept at this point, but at the time, I was one of only a handful of early adopters of the autoimmune protocol (AIP), a dietary approach to help manage autoimmune disease.
How It Was
It’s hard to remember how it was now, in a time when even our senators, like Cory Booker, say they believe in a “ . . . food as medicine movement . . .” to address public health and healthcare costs, and we’ve even begun recognizing the importance of nutritional psychiatry. In 2012, the idea that I would rely on nutrition as a primary tool in disease management was not on anyone’s radar though.
Even my celiac specialists barely acknowledged that in my malnourished and debilitated state, I might need to adjust my diet beyond just avoiding gluten. The doctors I saw for my other diseases (in their very non-holistic way) completely dismissed that food could have any impact at all.
So, you can imagine that if even the doctors didn’t really get it, acceptance by others was typically awkward. At best. Being an early adopter in that context meant taking a counter-cultural approach.
I’ve spent more than a year now focusing on and writing about another powerful form of medicine: community. Just before 2023 began, in November of 2022, I wrote here, in my announcement about shifting my work to community care activism, that the power of community as medicine is overlooked and that someday soon, we’ll have to acknowledge it.
That someday is now.
The Confidence of Previous Experience
I’m not saying that as some sort of crystal ball-gazing fortune teller or granting myself the dubious authority to declare it like a president proclaiming a new national holiday. But I am saying it with the confidence of previous experience.
It might be a bumpy road and will likely take a lot of focus and advocacy from those of us who know it is the way forward, but this unconventional idea that community care can restore and repair us all in a real and tangible way is moving toward mainstream acceptance.
I assume you are here because you are also an early adopter of the community as medicine concept or you want to be. As I mentioned, I know being an early adopter is often awkward at best, so today, I want to share some insights based on my previous experience as an early adopter of a once-fringe concept. Maybe this will make it easier to stay the course if your confidence could use a boost on your community care journey.
Insights for Community Care Early Adopters
Insight #1: At the beginning of this journey, you will feel alone. Of course, you aren’t actually alone, but it will feel that way.
I know this because, in the beginning, when I adopted AIP, people thought the way I ate was bizarre. High maintenance. Confusing. And they didn’t mind saying so, which obviously felt isolating.
Sometimes, I wonder if I have exaggerated that sense of loneliness in my mind, so I checked in with my husband while I was working on this note to you. He confirmed it: “You aren’t imagining it. It really was like that in the beginning. I watched you going against the grain. You were truly alone. Nobody in our everyday circles understood what you were doing, and they had a hard time taking it seriously because it was outside the norm. They didn’t know it could heal just like medicine.”
As an early adopter, the more you understand, practice, and especially speak out for a community care focus, the more isolated you may feel. Our culture heavily, heavily emphasizes personal achievement, individual well-being, and “get yours” attitudes, including through shaming people who give a lot to the communal good . . . “They’re such a martyr!”
The way to cope with that lonely feeling is to find your people. I had a few supporters among family and friends at the start of my journey food is medicine journey, even if they weren’t eating like me. But online is where I found a core group of others following the same path who were crucial in providing the assurance to keep going. That’s also where I’ve found many of “my people” in the community care space. This neighborhood is a great place to start!
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Insight #2: You will question whether there is something wrong with you that you are giving so much attention to community care and wonder if it is worth all the trouble, inconvenience, and discomfort to pursue something you sense is deeply healing, but the society around you keeps treating it as extreme or radical.
I know this because, in the beginning, folks could not believe all the resources I devoted to food or all the time I put into food preparation when it was so much cheaper and easier to eat the way the American food system wants us to eat.
Before my celiac diagnosis, I had several hurtful interactions where others (including a doctor) insinuated that my weight loss was due to an eating disorder. After I started AIP, there were those who said following the dietary protocol was also an eating disorder. Since I couldn’t seem to win approval or support in sickness or health, I went with the thing that was giving me health.
In the first six weeks, my gluten antibodies dropped by half, then painful symptoms began to subside, and I started to put on weight. Nonetheless, devotion to health in an unhealthy system might get you labeled “obsessive” or “disordered.” Even when we know our path is the right one, it can be tough to navigate judgmental labels and harsh criticism.
The way to handle judgment and criticism is not to be weird. This is the same advice I used to give to my health coaching clients and group members about adopting AIP. What I mean by “don’t be weird,” is don’t be wishy-washy in your stance or treat it as just a quirky thing you do.
One day, you support community care efforts; the next day, you back down when your conservative dad says it’s hogwash. One day, you say that you aren’t buying a new cell phone because it’s better for the well-being of those in Congo; the next day, you agree with her when your liberal aunt says that you are taking it too far. (Political leanings don’t necessarily shape our community care commitment.)
People will take their cues on the seriousness of the community as medicine concept from you and respond accordingly. Over time, not acting weird about what I was eating to restore my health garnered respect and support. Staying steady in our community care practice will be uncomfortable, but eventually, it will also garner respect and support. And remember that strengthening your tolerance for discomfort is, in itself, a form of community care.
Insight #3: There will be many who react defensively to your community focus.
I know this because, in the beginning, a lot of folks reacted to my plate defensively. For example, if I passed up a slice of cake at an office birthday party, a few co-workers might feel it was a judgment about their choice. There might be a passive-aggressive comment or an “Are you sure?” repeated 100 times. It was terribly awkward.
Then, one day, I realized that our extremely fucked up diet culture had really harmed us. My plate was about me and my healing, but (especially for women) after a lifetime of constantly being told that we should control every single calorie, every single morsel, in service of an unattainable physical appearance, my plate probably seemed like an attack. Like, “We were all hoping to relax for a few minutes and just eat this cake, but Angie isn’t having any, and now we can’t enjoy the cake over the sound of the loud, mean voice telling us we’re not good enough.”
The way I handled the defensiveness in my food is medicine journey was to go out of my way to reassure others that my food choices were about me and feeling well enough to enjoy my time with them. I would emphasize that they should eat what they like and enjoy the meal. I truly didn’t care what was on other people’s plates unless they had an autoimmune disease and hired me to be their coach. Even then, I never, ever judged or shamed clients, because behavior change is a process, not a one-off event. They needed to feel accepted and safe enough to try again.
You can’t really counter defensiveness about your community care focus by reassuring others that your choices are just about you and how you feel, though. This is, after all, about all of us.
However, if we think of shifting from harmful hyper-individualism toward healthier collective well-being, it boils down to a behavior change group project. We can counter defensiveness by emphasizing how much we need each other in order to pull this off and reminding one another that it will be a process, rather than a one-off event.
This framing centers on two very important things: belonging and grace. Community care is also about persistence. Persistence in bringing others along and to keep trying after setbacks.
You Aren’t Well-Adjusted (and that’s a good thing)
So, fellow community care early adopter:
If you haven’t been able to look away from Gaza or Sudan or Congo or Ethiopia or Haiti . . .
If you know that it is all connected to the agony at our own southern border, our own rural poverty, our own ruthlessly policed inner cities, our own threatened democracy and collapsing systems . . .
If you know your health and well-being is connected to the health and well-being of ALL and you want to do everything possible within your sphere of influence to fight for us all to be free . . .
Then there is absolutely nothing wrong with you.
You aren’t well-adjusted to a profoundly sick society (and that’s a good thing). 2024 is going to be the “someday” when your counter-cultural approach is going to start to make sense for everyone else as the only way to restore and repair all of US. A new thing is coming, and I hope that sharing these insights makes it easier for all of us to stay the course.
Does community care feel counter-cultural to you or well-accepted? Have you ever been an early adopter in some facet of life? Have any tips for others?
A lot happened while I was out, but I do want welcome you back to the neighborhood. My winter break is over, and I appreciated your support for the slowdown. Happy New Year!
Thank you for always paving the way for us. Your guiding light is needed in these difficult times.
Such a good newsletter! Thanks for the reminder and the rejuvenation!