“Growing up with a peanut allergy meant that my world was full of invisible dangers.”

From as early as I can remember, my relationship with food has been very complicated—not because I didn’t like eating, but because I couldn’t eat very many things. Growing up with a peanut allergy meant that my world was full of invisible dangers. While other kids grabbed peanut butter sandwiches and happily munched on snacks without a care, I was the kid with a lunchbox full of safe but bland/boring alternatives, and a careful routine to avoid even the tiniest contamination.

As a little kid, I didn’t fully understand why I couldn’t eat what everyone else did. Birthday parties were filled with confusion. I would watch my friends bite into cupcakes, cookies, or candy bars, wondering why I always had to bring my own special snacks. Sometimes, I felt left out, like there was this invisible barrier separating me from the normal joy of eating. I remember once trying to hide my disappointment when a classmate offered me a peanut butter cookie, and I had to say no, again.

But those early challenges didn’t just teach me about allergies—they taught me about self-awareness. My parents became my first teachers in navigating this tricky world. They showed me how to read labels with a detective’s eye, how to carry my EpiPen everywhere, and how to explain my deadly allergy to teachers, friends, and even strangers. I slowly realized that while my allergy limited some parts of life, it didn’t have to limit who I was.

Growing up, this experience gave me an unusual kind of confidence. I learned to speak up for myself in situations where many kids might just stay quiet. Whether it was at school lunches or family dinners, I became comfortable asking questions and making sure my safety was respected. It wasn’t always easy—sometimes I felt like I was being “that kid” who had to make a fuss—but I also learned the value of standing my ground and taking responsibility for my health.

Social situations have always required a bit more planning. Hanging out with friends meant checking menus in advance or bringing my own snacks. But these small inconveniences have shaped me in ways I’m grateful for. I’m more organized and thoughtful, always thinking ahead and anticipating challenges before they happen. This mindset has helped me not just with my allergy, but with school, extracurriculars and setting goals for my future.

Now, as I prepare to start college, I see my peanut allergy differently. It’s still a part of my life, and it still requires caution, but it no longer feels like a limitation. I’m ready to manage my health independently, to communicate clearly with roommates and dining staff, and to handle unexpected situations calmly. In fact, living with an allergy has prepared me for college in ways I didn’t expect—teaching me resilience, responsibility, and self-advocacy.

Looking back, I realize that my peanut allergy is more than just a health condition. It’s a part of my story that’s shaped my character. It’s pushed me to grow, to be aware, and to care not just about myself but about others’ differences too. And while I sometimes wish I could eat everything without worry, I wouldn’t trade the lessons I’ve learned along the way.

As I step into this new chapter, I carry with me the knowledge that challenges don’t have to hold me back—they can help me become stronger, smarter, and more compassionate. My peanut allergy has been a tough teacher, but it’s made me who I am, and for that, I’m ready for whatever comes next.

- Anne