He didn't mean it in a bad way. In fact, it got me thinking a lot over these last 4 years of my life. My 4 year Dia-versary is in less than a month now, and it's hard to believe it's been that long.
How do I react to that fact, that it's been 4 years?
Truth is, the first thing that comes to mind that I want to do is cry.
I don't know why. Diabetes makes me sad, but on a day to day basis, it doesn't make me that sad. It has its grievances - most of the time I hate it - but I struggle on through, trying to remain on top even during the glucose checks that clearly sometimes best me with a number that's too high or too low.
When I was first diagnosed, I struggled a lot with the question of who I am. I struggled a lot with the decision to be happy. I struggled a lot with convincing myself that this was still a life that was worth it, which it very much is.
Diabetes... I searched the internet for information, read the books my endocrinologist had given me cover to cover (I still have my copies of the "Pink Panther book of Diabetes" today and it's a wonderful reference.)
I was hungry for knowledge and desperate to arm myself with it because I knew, the more that I knew the better chance I had to overcome this and learn to live on top of it.
That's my way - knowledge is power.
Now I feel that I have done myself well. If I were to look at me now from the perspective of 4 years ago, I think I'd feel a little more hopeful.
I guess the number one disappointment though is simply the fact that I'm not perfect at this. And I can't be. I try so hard... I really do, but the numbers are not always where I want them to be, and I guess I did always hope that would be the case, but maybe that takes some time to improve on, too.
If there's anything this experience has taught me....it's that 4 years is not a long time.
4 years is not a long time to wake up and completely change your life.
4 years is not a long time to get used to multiple injections everyday,
4 years is not enough time to resent insulin for changing your body.
4 years is not enough time to feel ok about having to sit out during lows sometimes, rendered basically useless as your body struggles to maintain control.
4 years is not enough to learn everything there is to know about a disease that's so complicated it's like learning to speak a new language.
4 years, 4 years, 4 years. It's nothing.
And in that time, I've never had a single break. There is not "off day" of treatment. Either you treat and go on with life or you don't treat, and then you feel like shit or inevitably die.
No breaks.
In my dreams sometimes I can eat without worry.
But I don't remember many of my dreams.
Now it's so ingrained in me - Diabetes is such a part of me, I can be inebriated and still remember that Blood Glucose must be checked, insulin must be given. It's an essential part of me, and without my glucometer and insulin I'm essentially helpless in society.
It's funny, because the very things that take my freedom away - that glucometer and insulin -
Are the only things that give me the slightest bit of freedom.
My glucose meter is my eyes and ears for what my body is doing - my insulin is like the gas or oul to a car and it keeps me going, I can't run without it.
I am tied to these things to give me life.
4 years.
I look back and I am sad. Nobody ever promised me an easy life, but nobody ever knew I would grow up to have Diabetes, either.
Nobody ever said that this particular struggle of mine would be this hard.
I fight it even when I'm tired, I fight it when life is crashing down around me, when I have no time and I'm late for school it still demands my attention, when I'm low it demands my attention no matter what I'm doing.
Nobody promised me easy, but these 4 years have been hard.
And I changed. Inevitably, I changed.
All along, but particularly after Diabetes, I became the girl I needed to be out of necessity,
But I became the woman that I am out of my own design.
My passion for life, my drive and will to succeed in spite of all things - exemplified.
And God, who knew this young girl couldn't open up, had a hard time speaking her mind,
He gave her the push she needed to begin to express herself, the wings to fly.
Because life is too short not to share my story. Too short to keep it all inside.
And life is too precious not to love in spite of my illness. I love it differently now, but I love it all the same as if I didn't have Diabetes.Sometimes I feel bad because I feel as though I can't translate my frustrations to others. It's like being in a room where everything speaks English and you speak Greek. You can't get through, can't translate. It's hard to feel judged for running low.
"Why are you low? Because you gave yourself too much insulin?"
"Yes, that's right..."
"Well, why don't you just give less next time?"
It's hard to translate that I gave my usual bolus but it must have gotten absorbed fast or my afternoon needs are changing again. It's hard to translate the guilt that I'd feel if I ended up high from not enough insulin - guilt that can be worse than the debilitating lows themselves.
Diabetes isn't black and white, and that's why it's so hard.
This blog is the closest thing I have to translating for you. And so I love it - I cling to it, I write when I am happy or just need something introverted to do. It is my oasis from all of the bad things of my disease, my place to share the good.
It's part of who I am.
And that is something I'm proud of. This is a testament to me, to my journey, to who I am.
Would I have turned out differently without Diabetes? I know so... and I think I would have loved that woman who I came to be regardless. Maybe I would have written less, maybe I would have had to pick a different subject to write about in a book.
But I guess it doesn't matter, honestly. I would have turned out just fine, but this is who I am now.
And the only thing I can do from here is move forward.
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