Reclaiming Holiday Food Joy with MS: From Grief to Gratitude

Forget diet rules and wellness culture — this holiday episode is for anyone navigating the season with MS. We’re diving into what it really takes to show up at the holiday table: the energy math, the grief of changing traditions, and the radical permission and flexibility to choose joy over restriction. From managing food choices during flares to dealing with unsolicited health advice at dinner, this is your no-shame, all-heart guide to reclaiming the holidays on your terms.

✨ Featuring stories, strategies, and a fierce takedown of diet culture — with room for Aunt Martha’s stuffing and your store-bought pie.

Read more about the MS tax here.

00:00 Introduction: Energy Management and Chronic Illness

01:08 Welcome to the MS Bites Podcast

01:44 Navigating Holiday Challenges with MS

04:05 The Reality of Diet Culture and MS

05:43 Choosing Joy Over Restriction

13:32 Adapting Holiday Traditions

20:02 Managing Family Conversations

23:34 Permission to Celebrate Differently

26:13 Gratitude and Small Victories

29:04 Conclusion: Embracing the Holidays with MS

Click here to ask me a question or suggest a topic for a future episode!

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Transcript

Mona 0:00

You've probably seen wellness influencers mapping out their energy management systems as if we all start the day with the same energy budget. You know, five points for meal prep, 10 for a workout, 15 to cook a holiday dinner from scratch, neat and tidy, and completely disconnected from the reality of chronic illness. Because here's the thing, someone living with MS. May start the day with only 37 points instead of the influencer's. 100 points on a good day. A shower, that's 10 points. Getting dressed in something other than pajamas, another eight. Chopping vegetables, that's a full 15 points, and they haven't even made it to the table yet. The wellness world talks about willpower, like we're all working with the same energy budget, but for folks with MS, just sitting upright at dinner might use up their last five points. So no choosing joy, comfort food or Aunt Martha's stuffing isn't a lack of discipline or willpower. It's a way to feel human in a body that's already in overdraft. Welcome to the Ms Bites podcast, where nutrition science meets the lived MS experience, because good nutrition shouldn't be hard to digest. I'm Mona, your host, a registered dietician, MS. Certified specialist, and someone who's been living with Ms. Myself since 2008. As such, I offer a unique blend of professional nutrition expertise and firsthand experience navigating the challenges of life with ms. I'm so glad you're here. Let's get started. This episode isn't about the Instagram perfect holiday spread, or the Pinterest worthy cookies that look like their tiny edible wreaths. This is about the real conversation, The one where we acknowledge that living with MS during the holidays means navigating a whole different menu of challenges, and I'm not just talking about the dinner menu. We're gonna talk about the collision between holiday food, according to diet and wellness culture, and the chronic illness reality about grieving traditions we can't maintain while finding joy and new ones about managing dinner table conversations when your brain fog is thicker than the gravy. And yes, we're even gonna address how to handle that relative who insists that their cousin's neighbor cured their MS with an expensive supplement regimen. so grab whatever beverage brings you comfort, whether it's black coffee or a gingerbread latte with a little bit of extra whipped cream. And let's have an honest conversation about food, holidays and finding genuine joy when your body has rewritten all the rules. Speaking of willpower, here's a true story from the past one that makes me roll my eyes whenever I think about it. As a dietician who specializes in ms, and as someone living with Ms myself, I cannot tell you how many times I have been in invited to speak on some version of this topic. And I'm air quoting here, how to Navigate Holiday Eating with Multiple Sclerosis. And you know what they really want me to talk about in those invitations? It's how to help people with ms. Avoid eating all the delicious foods that make holidays special with, you know, willpower. I kid you not. Some of these organizers have actually said to me with straight face that this would be such a fun topic to discuss fun, because nothing says holiday cheer. quite like telling people with a chronic illness that they should skip grandma's famous apple pie and instead munch on celery sticks. Right? This topic, sounds like about as much fun as taking Halloween candy from kids. If you ask me, which is why it's gonna be a no for me. Thank you. Here's what's really happening. Diet culture has wormed its way into the MS community wrapped itself in a lab coat and is pretending to be health advice. Diet culture often narrows the conversation around health and body size, down to one thing, food choices. But the reality is far more complex. Yes, what we eat can influence body weight and health, but it's not the only factor. Genetics, mobility, limitations, medication, side effects, hormonal changes, sleep quality, stress levels, and the effects of chronic illness itself all play significant roles. And you notice I didn't even mention access, finances, budget or other determinants of health, because those are things that are not always within our control either. But here's the truth, enjoying holiday foods. The ones tied to memory, comfort, and culture, those are not harmful to your health. What is harmful? Shame, restriction, guilt, and the stress of constantly being told that joy must be earned or justified. So now on top of managing chronic illness, people with MS are being told to restrict pleasure from food during the one time of year when food is celebration, it is connection and it is tradition. These messages about willpower and making good choices. I'm doing air quotes on both of those. Assume a baseline of health and energy that MS has already taken out a second mortgage on. You wanna talk about willpower? Let's talk about what actually requires willpower when you're living with MS. It's dragging yourself out of bed when your body feels like it's weighed down by a lead blanket, or choosing to take a shower even though the heat of the shower can short circuit your nervous system and leave you weak, dizzy, and struggling to function for hours. It is searching for words in a brain full of fog, trying to sound normal in conversations that used to come easily. Trying to re remember your friend from down the streets name, even though you know it, you just can't quite, uh, bring it to the fore. And is deciding to go to that holiday gathering at all, knowing full well that joy comes with hidden costs, what many of us refer to as the MS tax, which means three days of exhaustion and recovery for just one night of showing up. And now. Now on top of all that, we're supposed to use our tiny reserve of leftover willpower to skip Aunt Martha's famous stuffing. That same stuffing that smells like comfort, tastes like memory, and connects us to family tradition and joy. No, no, that's not indulgence or weakness. Or a lack of willpower. That's choosing connection. That's choosing what actually nourishes us body and soul. Let me put on my dietician hat for just a second to tell you something that might be at odds with diet, culture, and wellness influencers. Eating patterns matter infinitely more than individual meals. Let me say that again, for the people and back. Your overall eating pattern throughout the week, month and year is what impacts your health. Not. Whether you eat cake on your birthday or have two slices of pie at Thanksgiving. You know, it doesn't support health, stress, isolation, feeling disconnected from traditions, feeling shame around food, missing out on joy. All of these have real measurable impacts on both physical and mental health, and yet diet culture or the wellness industrial complex, as some people call it, would have us believe that avoiding grandmas sweet potato casserole is somehow the healthier choice. The message gets even more absurd when you factor in MS specifically. They're out there telling us to worry about sugar and calories when we're trying to navigate medications that mess with appetite and taste, swallowing difficulties that make some food textures impossible. Tremors that make eating certain foods feel like an Olympic sport, fatigue that makes chewing feel like a marathon. And the need for a quick energy burst just to get through symptom flares. But sure, let's worry about the carbs in mashed potatoes because that's definitely the priority here. Not! people with MS deserve to enjoy the holidays just like anyone else. Period. Full stop. That means we deserve food that brings us joy, that helps us feel connected to our culture, to our memories, our loved ones. We deserve to make choices that nourish not just our bodies, but our spirits as well. And that includes making decisions based on what we actually need in the moment, not based on a rigid ideal of what's air quote healthy. Let's drop the tired. Good food versus bad food narrative. It doesn't serve anyone. instead? What if we asked What foods serve me today? Because the answer changes your body's needs aren't fixed. They shift from day to day, hour to hour. I'm gonna run through a week of examples here just to kind of, illustrate this. Maybe Monday is infusion day and you need something hearty to help you power through. On Tuesday, you're hit with a wave of MS fatigue, and the thought of standing at the counter to chop anything at all is as daunting as running a marathon. Those are microwave meal days, and there's no shame in that. On Wednesday, the cog fog has settled in and following a recipe with more than three steps is completely out of the question. Those days are toast with peanut butter kind of days. On Thursday, you're in a flare and what you really need is something easy to digest. Maybe just some simple carbs to get through the day. Friday. Your hands are shaky and what matters most is being able to eat without struggling. So it's soft foods, maybe something you can manage with just a spoon Saturday. The meds have your stomach and knots, and the only thing that sounds remotely okay is your mom's homemade bread, and that's more than enough. Then Sunday rolls around and you're feeling a bit more like yourself. So you make that big, colorful salad you've been craving with all the chopping and slicing and in dicing so that you can shoot for that big salad that Elaine from Seinfeld always talked about. While hopefully you won't face all of these hurdles in a single week, the unpredictable nature of MS means that weeks like this can and do happen. And this is why the goal isn't a rigid diet, but instead, radical flexibility, your needs will change. Your food can too. Meeting your physical needs and honoring your emotional needs are not in conflict. They both matter. When someone with MS chooses to eat a holiday food, they're not giving in or lacking in willpower. They're choosing connection. They're choosing to participate in tradition. They're choosing joy in a life that has plenty of challenges. They're choosing to use their limited energy on pleasure rather than restriction. So when diet culture disguised as wellness advice from influencers tries to sneak into your holiday with its shoulds and shouldn'ts and when well-meaning relatives comment on your plate when some random article in your social media feed suggests that you need to quote Be good during the holidays. Remember this? You living with MS is being good. You showing up is being good. You finding moments of joy wherever you can is being good. And if that joy comes in the form of your grandmother's famous pecan pie, eat the damn pie. Enjoy the pie. Let the pie connect you to love and tradition and all the things that make the holidays meaningful. Because here's the truth, that diet culture doesn't want you to know the stress of restriction, the isolation of not participating, the shame around food. These things are all far more harmful to your health than any individual holiday meal ever could be. Your worth is not measured by what's on your plate. Your health is not determined by a single meal or even a single season of meals, and you. Deserve. You deserve to experience food joy, especially during the holidays, especially while managing a chronic illness, especially when joy might be harder to come by. So eat the celebratory foods, skip the guilt, save your energy for what really matters, being present with the people you love in whatever way you can, in whatever capacity that you have. That's what the holidays are really about, and anyone who says otherwise can eat my portion of celery sticks. Now let's move from willpower to something that I don't think gets quite enough. Airtime, the grief that comes with changed abilities around holiday traditions. And yes, I said grief because that's what it is. When you watch someone else make your grandmother's labor intensive strudel that you used to be famous for, or when you realize you haven't hosted a holiday dinner in three years. Not because you don't want to, but because you simply can't. Maybe you were the person who started cooking at 5:00 AM juggling four dishes at once, like some kind of kitchen orchestra conductor, or maybe you were the one who made everything from scratch, including the bread rolls that required kneading for exactly 12 minutes, no more, no less. Maybe your homemade pie crust was legendary, and now you can barely open a pre-made one without needing a nap. I once had a client who shared with me a story about how they used to make this incredibly intricate Turkish delight every year. It was a tradition passed down from her grandmother. It connected her deeply to that memory and the, lineage and their tradition. But the recipe was no small feat. It required over an hour of standing and constant stirring exact temperature control and the kind of steady hands you need to pour boiling sugar into molds without a tremor. Last year her cousin took over that tradition and when the family praised it saying it tasted just like hers. She had to quietly step away for a moment. It wasn't jealousy that hit her. It was grief. Grief for the version of herself who could not stand at a hot stove for an hour any longer. Grief for hands that didn't shake grief for the freedom to make a beloved family recipe and still have the energy to sit at the table and enjoy dinner with everyone else. And you know what makes it harder when family members say things like, remember when you used to make, fill in the blank, or it's just not the same without your fill in the recipe, without acknowledging why you don't make those things any longer as if you're choosing not to participate, as if you wouldn't give anything to be elbow deep in flour, covered in icing, orchestrating the entire meal just like you used to. MS doesn't just change what's on your plate, it changes your entire relationship with holiday food rituals, the shopping trips where you could spend hours searching for the perfect ingredients, the prep work that started days in advance. The joy of feeding people you love with food made by your own hands. These aren't just tasks. They're expressions of love, creativity, and connection. And when MS limits them or takes them away, that loss deserves to be acknowledged. It's okay to mourn the cook you used to be. It's okay to feel complicated emotions when someone else makes quote your dish. It is okay to grieve the host you were the traditions that you used to maintain the food memories that you can no longer create in the same way, this grief is real. It's valid, and it's right there at the holiday table, right next to the mashed potatoes. Creating a new relationship with holiday food traditions that honor both who you were and who you are now is possible. And it may be a little bit different for everyone, but it begins with grace. And then add in some specific strategies. First, let's discuss the beauty of strategic shortcuts, including store-bought pie crusts. That's not cheating, it's adapting. Pre-chopped vegetables aren't lazy. They're brilliant energy conservation. That rotisserie chicken, that becomes your contribution to dinner. That's not giving up, that's giving yourself the gift of participation without exhaustion. And then here's a strategy I call potluck redistribution. You know how at potlucks, everyone wants to bring the impressive dish? Use that to your advantage. Claim the easy stuff early and with confidence. I'll bring the rolls, I'll bring the paper products. I've got the cranberry sauce covered. Let other people compete for who makes the most complicated and impressive dish. You're playing a different game. The game of showing up with energy to actually enjoy the meal. Now about hosting. If you still want to host, but need to adapt, here are a few strategies clients have shared with me over the years that you might consider. Starting with paper plates, they're not tacky, especially not when washing dishes would steal tomorrow's energy. They actually make beautiful paper plates now, some of them look much nicer than my actual dishes, if I'm being honest. And Buffet style is not casual. It's accessible. It means that people can serve themselves while you stay seated. It means no passing heavy dishes around the table. when your grip is questionable, it means that everyone can eat at their own pace, including you. Here's something beautiful that I've learned over the years. Even if you can't make the whole feast anymore, sometimes just one dish, one recipe that connects you to tradition can be enough. Maybe it's your cranberry bread. Even if now you use a stand mixer instead of doing it by hand, maybe you can't make the whole Turkey, but you can still do your signature spice blend and then let somebody else take it from there. For one of my clients. It's her grandmother's honey cookies. Simple and doable while sitting down with the dough that can rest in the fridge if she needs to take breaks. They're the only thing that she makes now instead of the full spread that she used to make. But when they're baking, the whole house still smells like the holidays. And let's normalize asking for help in specific ways. People want to help, they just need direction. In other words, could you put the casserole in the oven at 3:00 PM Would you mind being in charge of carving? Can you help me plate this so that it looks attractive and accepting help isn't weakness. It's what allows you to save energy for what matters most to you. Now let's move on to one of those less discussed f words that only occur at holiday meals, and that's family conversations. You know, these are those delightful discussions about politics, the economy, why you're still single or married or whatever state they've decided to have opinions about this year, all while you are using most of your cognitive resources to remember which fork to use and whether you already salted your potatoes. Let's be real. Managing difficult conversations is hard enough when your brain is fully functioning. Here's the thing about Uncle Bob, or insert that, that loved one who fits the bill at your table. Uh, uncle Bob, who wants to, to debate the state of the economy while you're concentrating on getting food from your plate to your mouth without incident. You don't owe him a debate. You don't owe anyone an explanation for why you're not engaging in controversial topics. Your brain is busy. It's managing symptoms, processing sensory input, and trying to remember everyone's names. I've developed some Go-to redirect phrases that require minimal cognitive load. Feel free to steal them if they work for you. That's interesting, Bob. Hey, did you try those green beans or one of my personal favorites? You know, I'm really trying to focus on being present with family today rather than world events. Would you pass the gravy? And then there's the relative who's discovered a cure for MS on the internet. You know, the one they've got a friend whose cousin's neighbor completely reversed their MS with wait for it, celery juice, or essential oils, or standing on their head during full moons while humming show tunes. we, we've all met that person and I know, um, it's all well intended. I know they usually mean well, but when you're tired, symptomatic and just trying to enjoy your mashed potatoes in peace, the last thing you need is someone sharing prescriptions from Dr. Google's dodgy prescription pad. My strategy for that, thanks for thinking of me, my medical team, and I have it covered. How about that World Series? I mean, I was rooting for the other team, but what an amazing World series run they gave us. And if they persist, I'd rather not discuss my medical care over dinner. This stuffing is amazing though. And when the conversation turns to heavy world events, and it will, because apparently there's people out there who didn't get the memo that holidays are supposed to be relaxing and peaceful. And joyful. Remember that you're allowed to protect your peace. If discussing global crises while managing your own daily challenges is too much for you, you're allowed to excuse yourself. Excuse me. I need some air is a complete sentence, so is I'm going to check on dessert. Even if dessert is a store-bought pie and requires no checking. And then here is a professional tip. Recruit an ally. Find that one family member or friend who's at the table and who gets it. Establish a signal between the two of you so that when you are feeling overwhelmed, they can jump in with subject change or suddenly need your help in the kitchen. It's not deception, it's strategic energy conservation. Okay, y'all, this is the part where I'm gonna be really direct. Consider this your official permission slip signed, dated, and notarized by someone who gets it. It might be the stuffing and gravy, or a dessert or buttery mashed potatoes. It doesn't matter. You have permission to eat the holiday foods that connect you to joyful traditions. Full stop. Enjoy'em. Eat the food. You have permission to skip the foods that don't serve you if someone's prized, fruitcake makes you nauseous because of medication side effects, or simply because just the thought of eating, fruitcake, nausea, hates you. You don't have to choke it down to be polite. I'm pacing myself is a perfectly acceptable response. You have permission to use paper plates to buy, pre-made everything to show up with store-bought cookies, and call it your contribution to leave early when your body says it's done, to arrive late, because mornings are hard to eat before events if that timing works better with any medication or energy levels that you are trying to navigate. You have permission to say no to hosting, to change traditions, to celebrate on different days when you have more energy to change your mind the day of or hour of based on how you're feeling. Your symptoms don't care about RSVPs and neither should you. Your friends and family will understand. You have permission to protect your energy like the precious resource it is. If that means skipping the appetizer hour to save energy for dinner, skip it. If it means sitting during the meal prep while everyone else stands sit, if it means taking breaks, taking naps, or leaving a social gathering without saying farewell, when you've hit your limit, you have permission to ask for help, specifically and without shame. And here's the big one. You have permission to enjoy the holidays differently than you used to. Different does not mean less than different. Doesn't mean you're failing different means. You are adapting, surviving, and finding new ways to connect with joy. Taking care of yourself isn't selfish. Let me say that again. For the people in the back and by people in the back, I mean the voice in your head that sounds suspiciously like guilt. Taking care of yourself isn't selfish. It's what allows you to show up at all A you at 50% capacity whose paced themselves is far better than a you who pushed to a hundred percent and are now exhausted and unable to enjoy yourself. As we wrap up, I want to talk a little bit about gratitude, not the toxic positivity kind that says we're supposed to be grateful for the challenges that we have because of ms, because they make us stronger. I've got plenty of strength. Thank you very much. I'd like to exchange some of that for predictable cognitive function. No, no. I'm talking about a different kind of gratitude, the kind that acknowledges the small victories and quiet support that make holidays with MS possible and full of joy. There's gratitude for the friend or family member who cuts someone's meat without being asked and without making a big deal about it for the family member who learns to make a beloved comfort food so it's still a part of the holiday table for the cousin who always saves a seat near the bathroom, no questions asked. There's gratitude for the pure pleasure of a favorite holiday flavor, even if it's just a few bites, and for the text that says, no pressure to come, but you're wanted and truly means it. For the relative who gently defends the paper plates from the sustainability lecture, there's gratitude for the grocery stores that have pre-chopped vegetables. For the unsung hero who invented the slow cooker for the. Bakeries that make pies that are so close enough to homemade that some people might not be able to tell the difference. For every adaptation, big or small, that makes participation possible for a body that moves through the world differently. This holiday season showing up differently isn't showing up less than. Reading a story to kids while sitting down isn't less valuable than running around playing tag. Bringing one simple dish isn't less generous than making a feast. Being present, even if quiet, even if tired, and even if you leave early, your presence matters. So here's my challenge for you in the holiday season ahead, find one small way to honor both who you were and who you are. Now in the moment. Maybe it's making one family recipe in a simplified way. Maybe it's creating a new tradition that works with your current abilities. Maybe it's simply allowing yourself to receive help and support without guilt. Remember, friend, the holidays aren't a performance where you're being graded on how well you hide symptoms or how much you can push through. There's supposed to be about connection, love, and yes, joy and joy looks different for everyone. Your job isn't to meet. Anyone else's expectation of what holiday participation should look like. Your job is to find sustainable ways to connect with whatever brings you meaning and peace. The table is big enough for all of us. Those who cook from scratch, those who order takeout, those who can stand and carve the Turkey, and those who need to sit, those who bring homemade pies and those who want to bring their presence and nothing else. You belong at the table exactly as you are today. Not as you were not as you. Could be, but as you are right now with whatever energy, symptoms and capacity you happen to be working with, so eat the food that brings you joy. Skip the food that doesn't use paper plates. Take the nap, leave the party early, or don't go at all. Whatever allows you to find a moment of peace, connection, or joy in this season, that's the right choice. And if anyone gives you grief about it, send them my way. I'll be the one at the table with store-bought everything, eating dessert first and having a perfectly lovely time. Happy holidays friend, however you choose to celebrate them. However you're able to show up. You're doing great. We'll talk again soon. Take care. That's all the time we have for today. Thank you so much for tuning in. If you found this episode helpful, this is your friendly reminder to follow, subscribe, leave a quick review and share it with somebody you know might be interested. Tune in often, and let's take the overwhelm out of eating well with. One bite at a time. Take care.