Graffiti, New Coffee Shops and In-Depth Metaphors Involving Clothing: Just a Typical Sunday in Atlanta

It's an overcast Sunday here in the Southern Apple, and I am spending my last Sunday of true freedom (I can't really count next week since orientation starts Thursday) relaxing as much as I can. When I first came to Atlanta, I worried a little that it would take a long time to actually train my brain into thinking that was home. It's weird - you spend the last 3 years of your life driving up and down the same stretch of interstate, and it doesn't know quite how to respond when you transplant home 70 miles north off the same interstate, in a place you frequent so much for work but have lived so long never staying in, only at few-hour intervals at a time in the past. It's difficult to quite transplant what I mean by that. Every time I go to Macon now, it feels like home, but it's not. Every time I go to Atlanta, it feels like home now also, but it still feels weird, like I'm wearing this beautiful new outfit that I only tried briefly in the store. Now I'm trying it on in my own mirror at home and I'm questioning if I really like it or not. Should I return it? Well, I took the tag off, so now I can't. I'll have to learn to love it.
That was the most in-depth metaphor about clothing, I know. Haha.

The main thing is, Atlanta amazes me every time I step outside my door. I'm all of 10 minutes from downtown, and even in a small radius, there seem to be dozens of EVERYTHING. A dozen coffee shops to try. (I've been to 3 so far and love them all). A dozen krogers. Farmer's markets. Libraries. Don't even get me started on restaraunts. Or parks! Coming from Macon, it amazes me that I was able to amuse myself with the one or two varieties of everything there. Even coming from Orlando, I guess you would think that I should be more used to it, but I have always lived in suburbs away from the city, really. I guess I had never really developed a taste for trying all of the different things in Orlando,  due to my younger age while living there. I seem to have developed this insatiable appetite for exploration of all things new in my college years especially. That, and I naturally think that growing up in orlando made me somewhat immune to the large amount of "everything" there also.
The two cities also just have completely different vibes. Atlanta is VERY different from Orlando. Downtown is bigger. The culture and art here, astonishing. Even the different cultures of the neighborhoods, like East Atlanta and Cabbage town, amazes me. There are subcultures everywhere.

I think that's why I'll like it here. There is something in atlanta for everything, and the fact that everyone expresses themselves so differently makes you feel so welcome to express yourself. Your own style, your own mannerisms. Do your own thing - you are welcome here. I missed in macon the feeling of being able to lose yourself in the big city - how warmly alone you can feel in the crowd, the privacy it affords. You can go through life here surrounded by huge crowds, and yet you are in yohr own little world because everyone else is in theirs. In macon, everyone new everyone. This was novel and new at first, but I'm not so sure now that my city-raised self truly liked this or not.

Despite the overwhelming new-ness that has me reeling still, though, I do feel that I am integrating into city life very well, for a once-city-then-small-town-thrown-into-a-huge-city-alone girl. It's strange, because my transit to Macon was softened due to my knowing a lot of people closely before and while moving there. Here, wesleyan has pulled through for me because I do have some friends and a few from macon here and there, but aside from them and my roommate, this place is truly new and I am more alone here than I've ever been. It is up to me to shape my new life, but I am up for the challenge. I am a woman with many weaknesses, but I am also a woman who knows her strengths. My ability to find contentment in the littlest of things, passion for adventure, ability to be both introverted and extroverted as the need requires and, ultimately, my ability to take everything set before me in stride enable me to start paving the road of my new life brick by shining beautiful brick, and I foresee a long, lovely road will arise from my journey, complete with dozens of beautiful scenic outlooks. It is simply my nature, and so I know that God has prepared me for this newest journey so fully and perfectly that I no longer doubt myself or doubt things for a moment. In fact, I almost feel bad for worrying about this move so much. Why did I ever doubt that God knew exactly how things would work and fall perfectly into place? Why did I doubt that Atlanta wouldn't be the perfect place to call home after all the hints he dropped that it would be, and all the opportunities he gave me with my work traveling to slowly become used to the city? God knew exactly what he was doing, and all of the struggles I have faced up to this point... the struggles even this year alone... and yes, my struggle with Diabetes, have done a beautiful thing:

They have strengthened me, made me aware of my weakness and humanity, and taught me what my strengths are. They have showed me my own unique purpose and callings. Given me passion and a platform to stand on. Taught me lessons in overcoming what felt like, at times, the impossible. Showed me that god pulls us through even the darkest of dark. Showed me how to love live even with the inevitable darkness that colours life and, hell, that life isn't complete without that darkness, just as it needs the light. Behold, I have become this strong, independent, driven, infinitely passionate, art-craving, knowledge-thirsty, humanity - loving woman prepared for everything to come, even the challenges I haven't met with yet. And how does Atlanta help? Atlanta is a fresh start, and it also fuels my passion for finding the potential and new experiences that will help me to achieve new heights. I see it everywhere: I see it as I sit in the coffee shop writing this, reading the little quotes stuck on the windows, I see it on quiet Sunday mornings as I pay bills and answer emails, as I traverse piedmont park, and successfully navigate through the vast bustle of the city.

Potential is everywhere, and I have never felt it so strongly. And truly, when the world is at my fingertips and I'm so very aware of it... what is to stop me now?

Today, I am thankful for my strength, and simply thankful for life. I'm thankful for the lessons Diabetes has taught me, the sketchy alleyways of the city, and birthday parties I do in trailers in the middle of pecan groves (more on that later), I'm thankful for the towering skyscrapers, good coffee, wearing skirts for no reason, and for good music. How can one person be so overjoyed and filled with love for everything that is life, the good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful?

It's all so beautiful to me, and the ability to see that beauty in everything is what I am thankful for the most.

P.s. and I'm thankful because I FINALLY successfully parallel parked! (Don't make fun of me, it's not required on the FL driving test).

Atlanta.

Well, after all the years, all the countless blog posts, all the anticipation, the worry -
The unkown is here, and it's not what I expected in the least.

It's better.

Atlanta is different. It was going to be, and I knew it from the moment that I pulled onto my new street at my new home, as "my sweet summer" by the Dirty Heads played and I pushed my sunglasses back to get a better look.
The pace of the city: faster. No more slow, sickly sweet southern moseying to be found here. The good old southern boys are gone, no place for huge trucks in a city that makes my small nissan versa feel too big on its narrow streets.
Things are open all the time.  Coffee shops don't have summer hours. The city doesn't sleep. The graffiti rivals museum art on some building walls.

This city captivates and perplexes me. It enveloped me, like a dream embraces the sleeping mind - wholly and completely,  with no memory of how it did so in the first place. It just came to be, and in that moment, became my new reality. I can see the city skyscrapers as I walk near my home, and as I quietly and calmly learn to adapt to driving and walking these new streets, I think now of how incredibly lucky I am.

I think of how I ever worried that Atlanta would be anything other than the greatest adventure of  my life thus far. I think of how much I love this overwhelming yet empowering change of pace,  surge of life, and different culture that I have found myself a part of. I am perplexed at how content I was with Macon when, compared to glittering Atlanta, Macon is but a dot on a map! If not for the people, Macon feels stifling now, too small, almost boxed in. Atlanta is a river rushing by, and Macon is but a quietly, slowly moving pool to its side.

I feel fulfilled, empowered, I feel full of potential and life. I feel whole, like a small piece of me that was missing fell into place. I feel happier than I remember in a long time. Every day brings truly new experiences, new places, new excitement. New faces, fresh air, room to breathe in this fabulously rough, earthly, grungy, sparkling, overwhelming, fast paced, crowded city. To know that this place lies at my fingertips every single day that I wake is the most incredibly exhilarating feeling of my life. In this immense city, there is a place for me, and I fit in like the missing word of a crossword puzzle: in a maze, but perfectly where I am supposed to be.

I walk places. I am inspired. I have written more poems in a week than I have in the past year. I feel challenged, but in control.

And I feel utterly, completely,  and wholly that I am right where I am supposed to be.

7 Months and Then Some.

Last month I meant to write this post, but due to the recent writer's block, I put it off to the wayside a little.


There's a spot on highway 96 near Reynolds that draws my eye every time. It doesn't seem like much, but this is the exact place that, nearly 8 months ago, I was in a terrible car accident and totaled my truck. Driving by still sends waves of confusion and a deep cold sense of actuality straight to my heart, like ice. I don't know what to think, there are so many mixed emotions that come from it.

At first, I never wanted to drive  by this place again. There are other routes to Columbus, Georgia, but my GPS seems to like to take me to this place a lot. I sucked up the courage back in December, though, promising I wouldn't think about it too much, wouldn't look for it...

But morbidly, of course, my eyes scanned the guardrail, and I knew immediately when I had found the place with the dent in the guardrail and the large concrete pole next to it that I saw looming at me as my vehicle flipped. I blinked for a second and heard screeching and smelled the burning, rubbery, oily smell of wreckage. The glass fragmenting. My eyes remember the blood stain on the bodice of my old Cinderella dress that won't come off. Tiny things as they are, they are all reminders. Terrible, powerful little things.

That will always be one of the most traumatizing experiences of my life. It, like being diagnosed with Diabetes, though, made me even more grateful for the life that God has given me. My accident was a terrible thing, but I somehow made it through the difficulty and survived past it. It made life harder, but I learned to adapt to the difficulty.

Many times in life I have caught myself wondering at God, saying, he hasn't given me more than I can handle, but he will push the limits... pretty damn far. And he does. I don't know why. To test us? To make us better people? To help us to earn strengths that will make us stronger people? Great blogging material for writers like me? I don't know.

Pain colours this world - pain lies behind the eyes of every individual who has felt it. Pain drives poetry and writing, painting and music. And joy does, too. Those two wonderful, terrible dichotomies of each other need the other to put the other into perspective. The greater the pain, the deeper the capacity for joy, I believe. The greater the challenges, the stronger you will be if you struggle past them and fight with all that you have. The greater the fire that will burn within you.

I am grateful to be alive and grateful to have been given the means and faculties to move past this traumatic event in my life. It is also a solemn reminder though, to take care and to remember how fragile life is. To laugh at the silly things and cherish the moments we have together. To remember that despite the terrible things, we have to learn to also confront them and find inner peace with the bad things that have happened to us. To breathe and let our heart strings, tight and painful, fall loose just a little bit so that our chest doesn't feel like it's about to snap... to keep pushing forward, to let our experiences shape us but not control us. To use them to empower ourselves and let them allow us to create the person we want to be. We all make choices when we decide how we want the moments of our lives to effect us. And we all make different choices - it's one of the ways in which we humans are all so different.

As I drive past the guardrail for maybe the last time - living in Atlanta will have me take a different route to Columbus - I think of all these things, I close my eyes for a brief moment, and simultaneously let go of and embrace my past for all that it is. I am alive, I am here, and my future lies before me - ready to be shaped in whatever way I see fit.

Time's Up.

The minvan fleet arrives for the last day of Gymnastics camp.
Thursday is my last day of work there.
It's time.

I drive down I-16 to downtown.
I sit in my favourite coffee shop and study and write my letters and think of new blog posts.
I listen to music.
This might be the last afternoon I have in this coffee shop.
It's time.

I pack the last of my possessions away.
I still have boxes out to fit the rest of the "randoms".
I always seem to have too much stuff.
It's  time.

My insulin sits in a stack in the fridge.
I have two boxes of granola bars as carbs for if I need them during the move.
My extra supplies are packed in two small boxes.
It's time.

The life I know is changing, and it changes now. 
I'm leaving Sunday.
I'm saying goodbye to my friends and my home for the second time in my life. First Orlando, and now Macon.
Time's up.

It doesn't get easier the second time. Actually, I think it might be harder. I grew up in Orlando, not by choice but because that's where I was born, the hometown that raised and shaped me. I went to school there. I fell into friendships, lost touch with people, drove on my first highway.

Mm, here was different. I fell in love here. Learned to struggle along with Type 1 Diabetes here. Graduated from my alma mater here. Had my first car accident here. Started a business here. Macon was never my home because I inherited  it. Macon became my home because I chose it, out of all the places in the world. Macon became my home because I reached out and involved myself, I learned and grew and came to know a place different from my hometown. I learned to see it and to love it with all of its imperfections and flaws, this wonderful and subpar home of mine, this place with character and friends and interesting nooks and crannies. My roots didn't start here, but they grew here, and from those roots grew a tree, the tree that will be the foundation for the rest of my life.

How am I... truth is, I am and I am not well. I worked all summer. I never finish as much as I plan to, and that's ok. Summer turned out differently than I intended, that's ok. It always does. I traveled more and saw new places. I had adventures. I painted. I read, but not nearly as much as I wanted, and that's not really ok because I love to read but it will have to suffice for now. Another summer, and I'm still pale. My hair is turning darker. Well, none of that really matters. Some edges of my soul hurt. Some people hurt me a little more than I hoped they would. I lost some friendships. I'm saying goodbye to people this week. I've been having serious writer's block and it's really been hard because I feel bottled up and lonely in the rare quiet moments alone. I stay busy and it masks the pain scarily well. I sing in the car. I drive and become nostalgic about the silliest things. I am a hurting, broken, confused and lonely woman that is joyfully, intensely happy with life and the bright beautiful memories I have had the honour of experiencing. How can one hurt so badly and be so happy at the same time? I savour life so much. I live it to its fullest. I waste no moments of the day. I will fight to the bitter end to make the most of the life God gave me. My drive knows no limits. I feel an ache in my heart. A dark cloud over my head in the shadows when the sun isn't there. An unexplainable, haunting and echoing hurt.

Life is a painful thing. It's a funny thing. Life is rain with rainbows here and there. The rainbows are unpredictable, but so is the rain. I'm growing up more. My mind aches to learn, to grow up further. My heart is sad to see how old I feel at such a young age. It yearns for a carefree life it will never have. I am but an individual surrounded by darkness, by uncertainty, only to look closer and find that the stars lie above me to beckon me on and give me hope, and the moon pushes me onward and I fight this darkness and uncertainty every day. Painful challenges and beautiful joys, experience after experience, I push onward and grow a little more.

Here's to the past, here's to the now, and here's to the future that I lie right on the precipice of. Lead me onwards, God. I'm trusting you.

Well, that's all for now - this post is just to ease the writer's block a little and hopefully push me on to writing a little more these next few weeks. I just need to take little breaks here and there, I guess. I'll keep you guys updated on the big move!

Homeschooling: How It Made Me a Better Diabetic

If you know me well, then you'll know that I'm a big supporter of homeschooling. If you don't know me well, now you know.

But homeschooling and Diabetes are two seemingly unrelated things. How do I draw connections between the two even though during the time I was homeschooled, Diabetes wasn't even a thought in my head?

I didn't know it at the time, but my decision (and my mom's influence in my decision) to become homeschooled was going to become one of the best decisions of my life, for many reasons.

I was thinking this on the ride back from work the other day - I met a woman homeschooling her son, and he had just graduated high school and was going to college. At 16. We had a long conversation after she mentioned that her son had opted for homeschooling. To a lot of people, this seems really young, but to the homeschool population, this is actually the norm, oftentimes.

My view is this: 1. Homeschooling is not for everyone, so I'm not bashing anyone against it or who simply isn't interested in homeschooling.
2. On the other  hand, homeschooling oftentimes gets a really negative stigma from people, simply based around a stereotype of what it is or what it is thought to be. It shouldn't. People homeschool for a variety of reasons, it's true. I was blessed to homeschool starting in the middle of 7th grade, when I voluntarily chose to leave my middle school, Millennium Middle. I think that, regardless of the stigma, though, homeschooling oftentimes boils down to this:

It gives children the opportunity to take their education as far and as fast as they wish. If the student wishes to excel, there is nothing stopping them, no lesson plans holding them back, no telling them, "wait for the group. Then we'll move on."
In a way, this is to be expected. How can a teacher with dozens of students be expected to individualize to each and every child's learning styles, habits, wants and needs? They can't. There are tradeoffs, to be sure. Public school is convenient, free and gives students a lot of the socialization they find valuable at that age. Some families simply don't think that they can find the time or the money for curriculum to begin homeschooling, which is entirely fair. Other students are turned  off at the thought of not "being able to socialize" with other students of their age.
But homeschooling has huge advantages, for those that choose it. You can have that individualization for each student, and because of that, these students excel and routinely score higher on standardized testing that the majority of public school students in America today. My high school Biology teacher summed homeschooling up well for me in ninth grade:

Life isn't multiple choice, so why should education be?
As a homeschooler, my mind opened up and expanded in ways I never even imagined (nor realized). I had always been a very good self learner, and I was the kid who in second grade came off the bus and was told by mom to go work on my homework before playing - well, every day I came home and responded,

"I already finished it all." I wasn't *supposed* to do my homework on the bus, but I always did, and by the time the ride was over, I was almost always finished. I excelled in public school in most areas (math has always been a little bit of a struggle for me), and had an excellent reading level by the time I reached second grade. By second grade, I was reading Harry Potter, and other larger books - books the librarian wouldn't often let me check out because they "weren't to my grade level" and would suggest easier books instead. So, my mom would supply me with these. By kindergarten, as a private schooler I had been taught cursive - only to be told, when I joined public school in second grade, that I couldn't use cursive because the children didn't learn it until third grade.

In geography, my sixth grade teacher described me as the student "who didn't say a word in class and got an A on every test." I could memorize things to a tee, I had the discipline to sit and literally memorize the chapters in the textbooks I needed for tests, and I could write an essay with ease. Public school was fun, but looking back, it never really challenged me.

What I'm NOT trying to get at is implying that I'm a genius. I'm not a genius - yes, I'm smart and I love research and reading, but learning has been something I have always worked hard for. I just know how to work hard and push myself to get the grades that I need. I have discipline and self motivation.
So to be honest, when homeschooling was suggested to me in seventh grade, I wasn't actually thinking about how it would benefit my schooling. At the time, I was a level 7/8 gymnast, and in the gym 5-6 days a week, 3-4 hours a day working out and practicing routines. With school, the schedule was grueling. I'd go to school all day, mom would pick me up, I'd change and she'd bring me dinner, and I'd go to gym until 8:30 or 9, then go home and work on homework, etc. It wasn't impossible, but it was a little rough to handle on both my mom and I. Mom talked to one of the other gymnasts' moms and found out about homeschooling from her. The more she learned, the more she liked - and pushed - the idea on me. I decided to take the plunge and go for it, thinking it would be nice to have a more open schedule. I loved my friends, but I'd never really felt like I'd gotten a super rich socialization life at school - I was the kid that picked a few good friends, and mostly kept to myself, beyond that. I was never the popular kid, nor did I want to be. I was just me - a little shy, a little awkward and nerdy, a good student, warm when I opened up to others.

I began homeschooling in the spring of my seventh grade year. I was 12 at the time. I took to it like water, bidding public school goodbye with hardly a tear, ordering curriculae and choosing classes with my mom, and getting to wake up early and finish my work before noon. We took field trips to The Bodies Exhibit and the Science Center. I was perfectly content to work at my own pace, and largely school myself, my mother knowing that I was more than able to sit myself down for adequate study times and essay writing. It wasn't all peaches - she and I fought over math and I got very behind in Biology 8th grade year because I procrastinated. I finished middle school strongly though, adjusting to my new life and finding plenty of time for the gym. We attending a Co-Op group of homeschoolers who met once a week on Wednesdays for classes such as science, drama and logic, which was supplemental to our schoolwork currently, and I felt that between gym, my former friends and co-op, that I was in no way missing out on any socialization that I had had at middle school... if anything, I had better socialization as a homeschooler.

I pitched a fit when co-op disbanded in 9th grade due to low attendance, thanks to the two homeschooler "umbrella" schools in Orlando at the time, Smith Prep and Circle Christian Academy. My mom decided to check them out and enroll me at Smith Prep. Glumly I kissed my total freedom goodbye and arrived at Smith Prep as an awkward ninth grader in my navy polo, brown patched converse and braces on my two front teeth (I cringe to think of it now). I traded in my self-picked curriculum for world history and apologetics, English 1, Speech and rhetoric, Debate, Biology, and took Latin II, Algebra and Geometry at home. Smith was a classical education school - we heavily read classics in English and wrote comprehensive essays every week. We studied poetry and had formal debates.

It was a blast, and much to my surprise I found that Smith challenged me in ways that public school hadn't, also. I developed a love for reading that extended to classics such as Pride and Prejudice and the Scarlet Pimpernel, War of the Worlds, and more. I learned I hated Thoreau and Emerson. I learned to give speeches in front of class frequently. I socialized and made better friends than I ever had in public school - friends I will literally have for life. Smith taught me an even greater degree of self motivation, discipline, outside the box thinking and creativity. I learned to organize my thoughts coherently and speak them, to debate appropriately, to think critically and argue my beliefs. To ask questions and seek answers. It was incredible, and by the time I hit 11th grade, my 15 year old self was ready to full-time dual enroll at Valencia College in Orlando, meaning that I only took college classes for the next two years. Instead of spending a whole year in an AP class (which I did 2), I spent 3.5 months in college classes and passed with relative ease. It wasn't a complete walk in the park - Gen Chem II, an evil Biology professor and College Algebra more or less put me through the ringer. But I walked out of Micro and Macroeconomics with the only A in the class and passed psychology and english with so much ease that it was almost laughable to me. Before I walked the stage for my highschool diploma in June 2011, I had already walked the stage for my Associates in May of that year and was a member of the honor society of Phi Theta Kappa at Valencia. I had a scholarship to Wesleyan and would begin as a Junior.

The crux of what I'm trying to get at is not to imply, again, that I did this because I am really smart, because I firmly believe that most students could do exactly what I did. I believed that I could and was pushed to achieve college at 15. No one tried to hold me back or tell me I needed to wait or spend more time socializing at High School or try AP classes. With no limits, I did what came naturally - I learned, and that's a point I'm trying to get at - without lines and limits in education to cross, a child can excel in his or her own uncharted world as far and as fast as he or she feels ready to go.

Oh yeah! So.... how does this play into Diabetes, again?
The connection I make is this:

Homeschooling taught me self discipline and motivation. It taught me to see the lessons that life gives me every day and find that every opportunity - the things we are exposed to every day - can be used as a learning experience. It taught me how to fine-tune my own learning strategies of reading and writing and visual learning, as well as using conversations as a way to reinforce study material I had learned. It taught me problem solving, and I can apply all of these skills and more to my illness every single day. Diabetes was a huge and hard adjustment. I was very devastated with it at first, and upset. I was afraid of needles. But after being pushed to overcome my fear or needles, I took to Diabetes as I knew that I had to, and as I had tackled any other problems I had faced. With discipline, I learned to do what I had to every single day - check my sugars, count carbs, give insulin. I listened to the advice of my doctors and read the books they gave me. I learned to research diabetes and I quickly went from a sliding scale of administering a set amount if insulin at each meal and eating the carbs to match (which to me was very restricting) to learning to count my carbs daily and give insulin to match. I learned the ins and outs of my body. I learned to manipulate my basal insulin on my own for exercise and nonexercise, or heavy or low exertion, days. I learned how to read my sugars and adjust my basal and mealtime insulins according to if my sugars were running to high or too low. I learned to eat with discipline and carefully balance my meals in order to control my sugars. I do not have to consult an endocrinologist to adjust  my dosages, because I know how to listen to my body and my sugar readings and do it myself. I have learned what foods I respond well to or which foods I just shouldn't eat. I have learned to problem solve to try different strategies when sometimes controlling my sugar got rough - learning to give extra insulin in the morning, when my sugar runs higher and my body is not as responsive, to less sugar in the afternoon and evening.

It hasn't been easy, and I have this entire blog to drive that point home. Frustrations - phases of not wanting to check my sugars and phases of discouragement and upsets and being imperfect. Guilt and high and low sugars and worries and insecurities.

But I have made it through, and 3 years (I can't even believe it's been that long) with this devastatingly difficult disease has not broken or phased me. My sense of self motivation truly helped in this case, because I have always remembered that pushing through the obstacles at hand is the only option. No one will hold me back or tell me I can't, not even Diabetes. It's up to me to find ways to improve and achieve better and higher limits in spite of the challenges at hand. It's up to me to find the lessons in the every day experiences - from learning to carry extra snacks on a hike to not injecting insulin into my leg before I run because it will absorb too quickly.

Every day, I push through and not only do I push through... I get better every day. Now I am eating healthier, eating whole wheats and organic foods and fruits and vegetables. Natural sugars and saying no to most refined sugars, starches and breads that are unnecessary. Saying no to diet sodas most days and opting for tea, coffee and waters. My sugars haven't been as easy to manage since my honeymoon phase back when I first got Diabetes. I learn how to use housework, teaching gymnastics and light exercise to keep my sugar more easily in check - and to always try and stay active and moving and fill my life with activities to keep my heart pumping and get stronger and healthier. I don't feel worn out or tired - I feel amazing - and while Diabetes has its terrible downsides, I currently feel more empowered with a chronic disease than I ever did without. I am strong, I am capable, I am learning, motivating, disciplining, problem solving my way through this disease. Coming up with creative ways to fix problems, interesting new ways to exercise and tons of healthy food options. Asking questions about diabetes and actively researching answers. And I love it.

Homeschooling might have seemed like merely a good opportunity to do school in my PJ's and take field trips to McDonalds at the time. Little did I know that, all of the time that I was homeschooling - and now, all of the time spent living after my experience as a homeschooler - that, in a way, "Diabetes Management" was a class that I was simultaneously taking and preparing myself for all along.

It's Not Just About Diabetes.

To say I'm passionate about Diabetes would be a very literal understatement, because when something is literally your life, it becomes much more than just passion. It seeps into your consciousness, frustrates and drives you forward, teaches you lessons and causes you to make mistakes. I live, breathe, sleep, eat, blog and talk Diabetes. Diabetes is me, but I struggle every day to not let myself become just a .... product of Diabetes, passion or no.

One of the ways in which I have been able to do this is through my remarkable experiences here in my final months spent in Macon. My involvement with Central Georgia Autism (CGA), and my work at the children's gym here in Macon: SportzQuest.

My story with CGA began last April 2013. A woman named Janet Ward emailed me inquiring about balloon twisting for a fundraiser to be held by Lake Tobosofkee. I already had two gigs booked for that day, but was able to squeeze in CGA for an hour and a half. "Do you have a preference of costume?" I asked Janet. I had a Cinderella party in Phenix City and then one in Eastman after that, so I was going to be pressed for time driving with very little time to worry about costume switches. "No," she said. "If you're going to be Cinderella at your next event, I'm sure that that will be fine for the kids at ours."

And so, I showed up that Saturday dressed as Cinderella, balloons in hand. The event was a success, the children loved the "Blue Princess" and the balloons, and I was invited back for the December Christmas party.
December rolls around, and I am back for the Christmas party, which is another success. I have a total blast. Central Georgia Autism is a wonderful group that does so much for autistic children in Central Georgia. They frequently host events for autistic children and their parents to attend, and they lobby for important causes associated with autism, such as insurance coverage for therapy for children with autism. I started attending CGA's event with little concept of autism, but as time went on, began to grow more intrigued with the cause and with all of the work they were a part of. What really struck me was how many people autism had touched - women who worked in the financial aid office at Wesleyan, even my future boss, who I, to my surprise, ran into at a CGA gig! People from all over Macon were a part of CGA and this amazing cause, and CGA helped them to rally around a purpose and inspire them to push forward with motivation and drive. They supported each other, and supported these children with autism, throughout all of their different struggles - and that really touched my heart. I experience Ava's Law Rally for CGA in February, and was able to watch as CGA again rallied around a common cause to better the lives of these children and make these parent's struggles a little easier. And I came to love the people I met! "You're our mascot, Lacy!" Janet exclaims. I loved meeting the parents and kids and seeing how excited simple balloons and meeting a princess made them. It is my own little way of helping CGA to touch lives, no matter how small it may be.

My journey with Sportz Quest began in February when I was freaking out about not getting into Grad School. I needed a job, and something exercise oriented, to look good and boost my application for next year. I had a job at Sportz Quest within a week after stumbling across the job post online. I wasn't that sure what to expect. I was excited, but at the same time, it still started as "just a job". That all changed though, the longer I spent there.
First of all, it was rough at first. It's one thing to work with kids and be a princess (talk about good listeners!) but what about when you're just yourself?

"Alright dear, would you like to do this forward roll for me and stay still and not get out of line and listen to my directions exactly?"

... No. No, they do not want to. These kids will run all over you if you don't own up to the "Alpha Dog" role real quick. Running around, frantic and sweaty, became my life for the three days a week that I worked. I began to run into kids that I met at birthday parties at Sportz Quest. Janet and Rachel Foster, who owns Sportz Quest, were good friends! These connections began to grow, and I began to experience such a growing sense of togetherness and community that I had never felt with Macon. Sportz Quest began to change me. I am working there all week now, at camps and classes and field trips. I became more assertive with the kids, I worked with all kinds of kids, I got to teach kids at Mulberry Methodist on the GAME Bus and started doing field trips for the Wellness Center and Northwoods Academy - truly diving headfirst into Macon and all that it was about.

This Thursday, I had the opportunity to work with Rachel at Jay's Hope Camp, a camp for kids with Cancer. This turned out to be really special for me. I didn't want to pity these kids, some of whom had crutches and brain tumours and bandages on their arms and tubes in their chest. Instead I felt comradery, but not in the way that is by any means a comparison of their situation to mine. Cancer isn't Diabetes, and Diabetes isn't cancer. We battle entirely different things. But what I felt was the mutual respect for those whose bodies have betrayed them and the constant longing to not let that knowledge define us. COMPLETELY different cases - but the conclusion I draw is this:

You can't always change your situation. Hell, in fact, there will only sometimes be a few things about any given situation that you CAN control, and much more that you can't.

A good friend told me in March,

"focus on what you have the power to change."

And how true this is! Dear kids, I cannot change your situation. I cannot heal your broken body. Friends, I cannot change your situation, whether it's a bad car situation or finances.

What can I do? I can give you a smile. I can pick you up in my car and drive with loud, happy music with the windows down and buy you 75 cent ice cream cones from Burger King and drive past the pretty houses downtown.
Ice cream doesn't fix everything, that's for sure. But sometimes, it's silly little things like ice cream that make our outlook just a little brighter...

Sometimes, it's teaching a somersault to a kid with cancer, who stops to smile and say this is the best activity they've done at camp. Or making a balloon for a child with autism. It's telling a funny joke, or pointing out the bright side. It's listening. I can't fix your problems. I CAN try and make you feel a little better. Make you a card just because. Write a letter or bake you cookies. I am a detail-oriented person, and a little things person. Some people change the world one big step at a time - I change the world, one little thing at a time, observing the things that happen that many people overlook, and remembering those that aren't always remembered. This is my own calling and way that is unique to me, and I am so happy to have been exposed to experiences that help me to realize this.

And what's more, these experiences... with CGA, with Sportz Quest, with Jay's Hope... they bring me outside of myself and my own problems.

Look around: everyone you see faces problems as big to them as yours are to you. We all have such challenges and pain...
Helping these people and being involved in these causes has helped me to focus less on my Diabetes, which is my own individual struggle, and see what beautiful and mind blowing experiences that I can have with or without; in spite of, a chronic disease. My own troubles are still of importance, but they take the backburner when I can have the opportunity to impact the lives of others in these little ways. These experiences take me out of my own sphere and teach me a greater level of compassion for others and their difficulties and joys and triumphs and sorrows. And it inspires me on a level that makes me feel more capable and able to handle the challenges that my own life throws my way.

In short, it is the healthiest, most beautiful and life changing thing, to stand with fellow humans and not fight more merely one cause - not just for Diabetes or autism or cancer or anything else, but against the fact that we are all struggling and all of us in some way, are a product of our challenges. When we rise and stand for this, and we stand for others and learn that our own unique experiences give us tools that equip us to help others in a variety of different situations...

Well, this is what truly feels like humanity is all about. I am so blessed to touch lives in the little ways. And thankful for having learned this.

Watching Infinity Grow Smaller.

This past week was the first week that I realized that somewhere along the way, I have become more excited than scared about my impending move to Atlanta.

It's gotten harder and easier at the same time. I visited the leasing office at my apartment the other week and officially signed my letter to state that I am moving out. So, there's that.

And with that, my days in Macon officially became numbered. I swallowed a little, years of memories rushing back to me. 3, 4, 5, as far back as 6 years now - 6 years of my life have been intertwined with this city that I once never even realized existed on the map. 

Younger I could have never guessed that this big-little city would one day beckon me. Now it's a numbers game - see all the people I can, visit my favourite coffee shops as much as possible, go to all the places I love or have never yet been. I am running out of time, and as once, a long time ago, 3 years seemed to stretch out like infinity to me, I watched those 3 years shrink to 2, to 1, to 6 months, and soon, only 1 month: 1 month to serve as the only little bit of infinity that I have left.

And truly, it has been a small sort of infinity to me.

Just as my hometown of Orlando shaped and grounded me, Macon helped me to grow and refine myself in a way that will be foreverlasting.

As I strolled  through the city streets of Atlanta for the first time last week with confidence... I suddenly found the roads downtown didn't seem quite so intimidating. The city crowds were exciting, the places intriguing. And I realized that Atlanta held so many adventures and secrets to be discovered for me. Atlanta will have its own things to teach me to. Just as people come into our lives and shape us, so too do the places we live and the cities we visit. And I started to notice then, that a tinge of excitement replaced the long-living dread, questioning and fear.
In what ways would this city change me? Who would I meet? Who will I become?

Macon had its own things to offer and it was the right place for me at the right time. Macon was the well-needed small town for me to grow comfortable in my own skin and feel as though I had a place of my own. Macon was my own little world: safe, familiar, intriguing in its own little way. I loved and love this place. I love the old, crumbling buildings of downtown and I love the market on Mulberry Street every Wednesday. I love the coffee shop I frequent on Poplar Street, I love the sun as it sets as I watch it on a hill and see the sky turn pink and orange, a glistening backdrop against an aged and tired city full of history. I love the library and its quiet echoes, the shelves and shelves of books. I love the old bookstore downtown that reeks of cat every time I walk in.
I am excited, and I am in true mourning - it isn't goodbye forever, but it feels like it.

Because in a way... it is. I am leaving Macon, and with it, I will leave a part of myself - and the person that I was when I was here will cease to be. I will be but a moment in time, a shadow, and I will change in the ways that Atlanta changes me. I will never be the same when I leave, and I feel that a whole new world is going to open up to me, and Macon will never feel the same again.
Will this city lose its magic in the glistening bustle of Atlanta?

I have to accept that it might.

Atlanta will be a challenge for me. I have become comfortable with myself, but now it is time to test those limits and see exactly how far they go. Now is the time to dive in headfirst, and I feel ready. Accepting it won't be easy, I can do little but quell my fears and move forward.
Everything up until now has lead me to this road.