Hash Meets Disney Blog Post #2

Neurodivergent parenting, theme-park reality, and Hashimoto-friendly choices without the shame spiral. HEP ideals tested in real life.

I planned this trip like a pro: We’re local, but we booked a hotel anyway because the goal was sensory breaks — a reset button for my son, and honestly for all of us. I preplanned the food, researched the park options, bought the snacks, checked every single box.

Then packed the morning of...because life is chaotic.

We pulled into the hotel and realized it at the same time: we forgot the refrigerated food. The stuff I was counting on. The stuff that would have made everything so much easier. Hard to not sprial, but we kept it moving - I knew that I still had the in park options so no biggie, and we moved on. Then another hiccup, even though we’d planned for sensory breaks — that’s literally why we booked the room — logistical complications meant we couldn’t actually use it the way we intended. So there we were: tired, overstimulated, trying to stay regulated, and now improvising everything from scratch - perfect start to see if what I had been building in HEP would work and keep me grounded.

Day one was DCA. I started with my normal breakfast at home — gluten-free, high protein, fiber, bone broth, water — and that mattered more than I realized at the time. It kept me grounded before the park food decisions started coming at me all at once.

First food choice inside the park: hamburgers. That’s what my kid will eat and ecause it was right there with no no wait , sometimes the best meal is simply the one that prevents a meltdown — not the one that scores highest on a scorecard. So we all ordered burgers and I opted to skip the fries. Not out of restriction — I genuinely wasn’t craving them. I couldn’t even finish the double burger. My body said enough and I stopped. Could I have omitted the bun, yes, but hindsight is 20/20 and HASH eating was still something I was trying to get the hang of.

Later my son wanted a churro because it’s Disney, so we did the churro. I didn’t spiral. I drank water, kept moving, stayed present.

Dinner was my husband and I splitting a sandwich, plus the apple slices my son didn’t want. Not curated or over planned, just real food. The big win was allowing myself to enjoy, knowing that the movement from Disney would help soften the blow to my body later.

Day two was Disneyland, and it was sold out: Packed, Loud, Overstimulating in a way that collapsed every plan I’d made — where to go, what to order, all of it gone the moment the crowds hit. The careful research didn’t survive contact with reality.

So I made a choice: my son’s regulation mattered more than my perfect food day.

We ate where we could. I found workarounds — chicken tenders with the batter pulled off, oranges and apple slices when they were available. I kept moving in the best direction I could find and I didn’t punish myself for what I couldn’t control.

This isn’t a diet. This isn’t a test I passed or failed. This is real life — forgotten food, overstimulation, crowds, a kid who needs me steady, and me trying to nourish my body without turning every meal into either a punishment or a victory lap - I left that part of my narrative behind and she was not welcomed back.

I tracked all of it. What I ate, how it scored, how my body responded. And then I tracked the recovery days too — because coming back matters just as much as what happened at the park.

The win wasn’t eating perfectly.

The win was staying present, making conscious choices, giving myself grace, and coming back without shame. That’s always the win.

Want the tools I use to track real-life days like this? Head back to the website — that’s where you’ll find the free Hash Eating Scorecard, the eBook, and the newsletter.

So glad you're here,

Elena