“It wasn’t just inconvenient — it was isolating.”

Having a peanut and tree nut allergy isn’t just about avoiding certain foods. It’s shaped how I’ve lived almost every day of my life. From the time I was little, I knew I was different. I couldn’t eat the birthday cupcakes at school. I had to sit at the peanut-free table during lunch, away from friends who brought PB&Js. I got used to reading labels, asking awkward questions at other people’s houses, and saying no to foods that looked perfectly normal but weren’t safe.

It wasn’t just inconvenient—it was isolating. And scary. My allergy is anaphylactic, meaning one wrong bite could send me into shock. I’ve always carried an EpiPen, and I’ve always been hyper-aware of what’s around me. There’s no “just try it” for me. There’s only caution, double-checking, and sometimes walking away hungry.

After years of living like that, my mom and I decided to try something different—peanut therapy. The idea was to take small, measured amounts of peanut protein every day to build tolerance over time. It was hard. The doses gave me asthma flare-ups, and taking them became something I dreaded. Every single day, I had to take something I was terrified of, and then wait, hoping nothing bad would happen. It was exhausting—physically and mentally.

But what I remember most isn’t the asthma or the fear. It’s the Tuesdays.

Every Tuesday, my mom would drive me to Raleigh for my appointments—a three-hour round trip. We’d spend hours in the car together—talking about anything and everything, listening to music, making pit stops for food. She’d always be on the hunt for her vanilla Diet Coke, and we made it kind of a tradition. Those drives, those conversations, those moments of just us—that’s what sticks with me the most. Through all the stress and discomfort, we found a rhythm. A weird little routine that somehow made everything feel lighter.

My allergy has definitely brought a lot of challenges into my life. I’ve had to miss out on treats, ask too many questions, and constantly be on alert. But in the middle of all that, I got something really special: time with my mom. Time we might not have had otherwise. I saw how much she cared, how hard she worked to keep me safe, how she turned something stressful into something meaningful.

So yes, my allergy has been a pain. It’s made things harder than they probably needed to be. But it also gave me some of my most important memories—ones that reminded me I’m not in this alone. And honestly, that means more than any cupcake ever could.

- David