I was writing an essay, which quickly lead to scrolling through Facebook, procrastinating–something I really don't have the time to be doing right now– when I came across the article. I had read ones like it in the past, and every time it stops me in my tracks, shakes me to my core, and stays with me for the days to come.

An 11 years old Florida boy lost his life on Thanksgiving due to a reaction from his peanut allergy. Oakley Debbs had accidentally taken a bite of a cake, containing peanuts, that was left out on the counter, and could not be saved.

Eleven years old: A boy just on the edge of his teen years, gone.

It's not right.

I mentioned the story to few friends I was with, and the response was a semi-forced "that's so sad," or "what a tragedy." General concern, yes, but then everyone continued on with their conversations, as we tend to do when we can't relate to something–

But I can relate to this story.

This past summer I went to the allergist, as I annually do, to get an update on my allergy. Whenever I go, I never expect to receive a different result, but this time, I was praying that it could be.

The allergist laughed a little bit when she said, "So basically, on a scale from 1-10 (10 being the worst), you're an 11 when it comes to being allergic to peanuts."

I outwardly gave a knowing smile, because nothing had changed– I've always been really allergic– but inside, I was crushed, and terrified. I needed her to give me a different answer than that one, for once. She didn't know what these past few years had been like for me, no one had.

Growing up, I was always completely in control of my allergy, and even positively attributed it to shaping me into the person I am today. It taught me a lot of things at young age, like how to stand up for myself, the awareness that everyone has struggles that you might not be able to see– maturity. Valuable lessons, definitely.

I barely thought about it; I joked about it with my friends in high school all the time. I always was incredibly careful, however: I checked every single ingredient on everything I put in my mouth, carried my Epi-Pen everywhere I went, and never took a single chance. I had my own, nut-free table in the school cafeteria (don't worry, it made me feel like a queen), and just went on with my days– It was a part of me, I didn't know anything else.

Sure, sometimes I wasn't invited to parties because my friends' parents didn't want the responsibility of having to feed me, or I would have to leave a restaurant because the waiters, and managers, wouldn't know what was in their food, or would get so annoyed with having to check ingredients that we refused to give them service. Yeah, that was never fun, but I was always okay.

Then I got a little older, and realized a little more: I saw friends that I grew up with pass away, unexpectedly, and undeservingly. I saw the world around me become a little different. I changed a little, and something changed that I didn't expect it to– my relationship with food.

At the time, I was either eating my meals in a dining hall or a restaurant– I was never making my own meals, and therefore, never able to completely trust how my food was made, and if any peanuts were nearby, even if I had asked.

Slowly, and then all-consumingly, the fear of my allergy took over. I couldn't eat, and when I did, I would take one bite, and then wait at least 15 minutes, constantly checking myself for symptoms of a reaction.

Each day consisted of another meal, another panic attack, and, if I felt any tingling or itch in my body, another dose of Benadryl to save myself– and none of those instances ever actually led to a reaction. I had to go home for a week sophomore year because I made myself physically sick from the stress I put myself under; I preferred eating alone because I didn't want people to wait for me to finish eating, and I couldn't have them rush me.

I would take a bite of food at a restaurant and then take the rest of the meal home, where, again, it would be a struggle to consume. I would just stare at food and be terrified– If there was any trace of any peanut on any inch of it, it could kill me... Those were the words that ran through my head at least three times a day.

And as always– though there are exceptions– I was still dealing with teenage waiters who didn't care, friends who didn't quite understand when I asked them to please be a little extra careful, and people who just weren't willing to make the extra effort to look out for me: That hurts, on more levels than one.

That is what needs to change.

I got the help I needed and, though some days are better than others, things have consistently gotten better over time. I can take a bite of food and not be overtaken with immense fear, and enjoy a conversation at the breakfast, lunch, or dinner table, without my mind being somewhere else entirely.

The reality of the allergy, however, is always there– Hearing Oakley's story, for example, has made this week a little harder, and the dining hall a little more stressful– but still, a lot better than it used to be.

I know that I can always protect myself, but, I can't always trust the world: It's really up to you to keep people with anaphylactic food allergies safe.

No matter who you are– whether you're a chef, baker, waiter, you have a friend, family member, or student with a food allergy, or you just run into someone one day who happens to mention it: Make a little extra effort to keep them protected, and feeling comfortable. An allergy is a physical ailment, but it can also be a mental and emotional battle– even if the person doesn't show it, or talk about it.

There have been many improvements with the awareness of food allergies, but there still is a long way to go.

Be one of the people who helps the world reach that next step, please.

Do it for the kids in elementary school who have to be separated from their peers everyday in order to stay safe; do it for their parents.

Do it for the high school students who feel a little awkward every time they are out to eat, and while staying casual with friends at the table, are thinking about how they are putting their lives in the hands of a stranger.

Do it for the college students who, along with living in a new world, have to deal with new challenges with food, too.

Do it for people everywhere who live with allergies, and have to face the uncertainty of their health and safety everyday.

Do it for Oakley Debbs, who deserved so much more time than he was given.

Peanut allergies, and food allergies in general, are so, so serious, and it's time that they are perceived that way.

I wish I didn't have a peanut allergy, but as in everything, I look at my story– so far– and I learn and grow from it– I hope you can too... because really, my safety relies on you.

To donate to The Red Sneakers Foundation, which was set up in Oakley's memory to raise awareness on food allergies, please visit: http://redsneaker.org.