Scar Tissue That I Wish You Saw...

Where do you retreat to when you carry the wounded, hurting pieces of your broken life?

Well, for me, I take them here. I write them, because writing is my place of solace, my place of comfort.

It is also my place of darkness - my mind free flows into the words that I create, causing an endless chasm of emotions and thoughts to flood forth so effortlessly.

If there is anything I have learned these years, it's that I am broken. 

I am a broken human being, and I am not easily fixed.
I think I thought that I was fine - I tucked things away into the corners of my heart that I could not see, but I never really fixed the problems at all.

It's the beauty of life, to carry and display our broken pieces for the world to see. We carry on, day by day, oftentimes not realizing the pieces are even broken in the first place.

But listen to me - I'm rambling. What am I doing here?
It's 1 in the morning, and I have to be up early.
My heart is just so heavy today that I hope maybe writing will ease it, though I imagine there will be many sharp wounds opened from writing, too. Already I feel them.

I'm not here to name names, I'm just here to write how I see things. How I feel. It feels good to get things out, even if all of this will only make sense in the context of a few.

My name is Lacy Elizabeth Ball, and I am a genuinely positive person who has a wall that few people can see.
I genuinely don't want to hurt anyone.
My heart is hurting, and today it hurts particularly bad.

What do I do now?
Well, I go on living my life. People keep spreading rumours about me here, and about all of the things they believe I do. People speculate why I did it. People believe what they want to believe...
and I will let them. They will decide for themselves.
People will say what they want to about me.
People will say what they want and think what they think and don't know everything about it at all, or even close.
And it's ok. I just have to let them, and it's ok.

And I'll close my eyes, and ease my aching heart, and pray.
I pray that my heart will find peace, because lately all I want to do is cry.
It's the hardest thing I've ever had to do, and I think few people - even most of the people involved  - realize why I did it. I didn't do it to gain something superficial. I did it because there was something that told me to, that said "listen, this is going to be hard, and you're going to hurt, and a lot of people are going to hurt, but it's going to be ok."
You have no idea how much I wanted to change my mind! To change my mind. To take it back. To ease your hurt...
But then, you hurt me too. But I'm not counting. I will now let the hurt go, even though I do still feel it.

Ultimately, I only want you to know that love is not something that fades in time.
If it is true, it remains, sometimes quiet, sometimes loud, on days like this.
That can mean everything, or nothing - you form attachments to people, people leave their mark and you leave yours, and forever there are remnants, colours, pieces, left in place, that do not go away.
My art teacher once said life is like a canvas, and everyone you meet adds a stroke to the painting...
Leave it uncovered, cover it up, it's always still there. Those brush marks. Those ones.

You're a wonderful person. I love your quirks, your humor, your stories and your songs. I love the way you speak, and the serious, genuine things you say.
My heart outpours with love for you, even if you think that I shoved you away, that I chose someone else over you, that I did this out of hate or to purposefully make you suffer. Truly, it was none of those things, but it was no one single thing. It was many.
Was it selfless? No, not in the least. I did it as much for me as I did you.
It hurts so bad, but for here and for now, I have to stick with it. I think God is telling me it will be ok, and that this is part of his plan.
I'm so scared. I don't know how this fits into any plan. For so long, you were the plan.
Adnd I know I'm selfish, I'm a fool, I make mistakes. I have made many.
You make mistakes, too. You were a fool at times, too.
But this all has purpose.
Does it God?
I have to believe it does.

You may never see why I had to. You may never see that behind my smile, this wall was still there, and I realized that I needed to fix it - and that there were things inside of yourself that you needed, and need, to fix, too.
Until I trust God more and take down these walls I have built around myself, I cannot move forward, and neither could you. Something is going to change. And God will see to it that it's good.
I pray your heart is eased too, and that blessings pour upon you, and that you are covered in so much love and good things and joy that you needn't ever feel lonely or empty or sad. I love you so much no matter what, and I'm at ease with saying I always will, and that I always want the best for you.

This writing is all part of healing for me. For those of you for whom this makes no sense, disregard it and I'll write a new (Diabetes related) blog soon. But for those for whom it does make sense, I hope maybe this will shed more light... maybe. I'm not hear to disprove any rumours, because ultimately, it's not rumours or gossip that matter. Rumours and gossip will always exist, no matter what. There are so many different sides to a story, depending on who you ask. Which side you believe is not my concern, because it can't be, even if it stings sometimes. Think what you wish. I'm not even here to say my side is right. Everyone is at fault. I'm not blameless, neither is anyone. But I know that God washes all of that away, for you and for me, and so I'll let it go and let it be.

I'm just here to share my heart, and what's on it, and so here it is.

Isaiah 43 18 “Do not remember the former things, Nor consider the things of old. 
19 Behold, I will do a new thing, 
Now it shall spring forth; Shall you not know it? 
I will even make a road in the wilderness 
And rivers in the desert.

Rainy Days, Hide Sunny Skies.

Rain falling

on my windowpane

spirit crawling

for the light again

I lost the light in me

sent it away

I destroyed one beautiful thing

for hope of a sunny day

And now I see

all my life was clouds

where the rain fell before,

the grey will fall away now

the rain drips down my face

echoing my soul

somber, subtle, subdued

for all those years it stole

the storm rages on

but now I'll close my eyes

waiting on the sun

to find those clear blue skies.

Three Years, Over 5,000 Injections Later.

Today is the third year anniversary of my diagnosis with Diabetes.

For three years, I have ceremoniously acknowledged this date, marveling at the passage of time and the new struggles that each day living with an autoimmune disease bring.

Certain things stick (no pun intended, well, maybe) out in my memory more than others -

Two nurses injecting needles on both sides of my arm.

Crying in the hospital shower, feeling utterly more alone than I ever had.

My friend handing me a new journal to write my story in, prompting the inspiration of this blog.

The first time at home that my sugar was 103; a normal level.

The time I went to Zaxby's and had a birthday cake milkshake, and came out successfully at 180 mg/dL.

The man I met in the comic book shop with the insulin pump.

But I remember it all.
Diabetes has enveloped me into a bubble - there is the world, and then there is me, and Diabetics like me. Everything I see is through the iridescent filter of the bubble - before food comes carb counting, before a trip comes the supplies checklist, before I leave the house - do I have a snack?
Because Diabetes isn't just Diabetes. It's Diabetes + everything single other thing going on in your life at the same time. No breaks, no time out.

Every year, it gets harder and easier. I know what to expect, but I also face constant new surprises. Day in, day out I treat this disease, but wonder if I will ever find the day come that I face the ramifications of all the high blood sugars...

Every year, I'm a little more worn down, a little more empowered to keep trudging forward, all the more ready for a cure. 

Someone recently described to me that the obstacles in your life prepare you to handle and obtain the skills that you will need further on in life. That you earn skills through your struggles - you learn to overcome, and thus you become stronger.

This is some of the best advice that I've gotten in a while. I am a positive person, but often I feel worn down, discouraged from the many struggles I have faced through the years, that are very big indeed to me. But when I try and think about how these experiences have shaped me, and have given me skills through the growth I experience through overcoming them - it gives me a sense of empowerment, and is very uplifting to my soul. And it's exactly this kind of focus that I need to keep facing Diabetes and fighting with my best foot forward -

To constantly take my skills and improve. And what skills have I earned from the years?

To value life. 

To learn to truly sense and be aware of my body and what it is trying to tell me.

To face the challenges necessary of me because it is what I must do to live.

To take my determination for a normal life in spite of Diabetes and use it to push forward.

To gain a better appreciation for a healthy lifestyle.
To never leave the house without a snack... or two... or three.
Always double check how much insulin is left in my pen.
Remember to say "yes" to the birthday cake every once in a while.
To see the positives, no matter what, even if it takes a little bit of sorting through the negatives to get there.
That Diabetes doesn't have to make you weaker, if you use it as a tool to strengthen and enrich your character.
Share my struggles with others. It's my burden, but talking helps.
To multitask.
To handle discouragement, disappointment, stress and guilt every day... take it in stride, and start anew tomorrow.
To never lose hope.

This is my life. Like it or not, this is what I've been dealt.
My struggles, my challenges, my joys, my disease make me who I am, and while I'm not perfect, I'm proud of this fact.
And I'm blessed. I'm so blessed, because I'm surrounded by people who care and who love me, regardless of whether or not they know everything there is to know about Diabetes. Sometimes, all it takes is a question, a knowing smile, or a listening ear to ease some of the weight off of your shoulders.
So here's to more  years - not more years of Diabetes, well, that's a given - but more years of living, of truly living, which means to live and learn and fill your heart with joy and new experiences no matter what the hardships and external things are that you face.

To living - to milkshakes - to fridges full of insulin - to blood sugars under 180 mg/dL - I'll toast a Coke Zero (or water, sorry mom) to that any day.

Just Musing, Really.

I wish I knew what I was doing.

But lately, the time passes, and the less I know. 

The months have flown by - August to September, October to December, January to March. 

I've been through three cars in two months, my stress levels have looked eerily similar to a high speed roller coaster, and my life feels like... a big question mark, well sometimes it does. 

I'm tired! Really, I am. The responsibilities keep piling up around me 

My emotions are constantly in flux

Not going to grad school? Guess I'll find a job
Going to grad school? Guess I'll find some loans
Work on as much as my body can sustain

Continue to live for the nights where I can eat giant hamburgers at the Vortex in princess dresses

Even though my blood sugars pay for it later.

Well, I'm holding on

To the last vestiges of the life I have built around myself. 

Meanwhile change lies before me as apparent and solid as the graduation invites I print out for my friends and family

I close my eyes and envision my life

And I have very little, now;

I have very little firm and solid plans
One dream before me to hold onto in the dark

And really, all I have besides is a burning passion inside me

A fire

To live life to the best and fullest

To make a lasting impact on the world, one little action at a time

To find meaning

To create purpose

To gain new experiences everywhere.

And I am me
I will keep pushing forward
Every day another reminder
Of the reason why I choose to push on
Every day a new step
In the journey that is life

And the journey begins today.

Humble.

Well, this is my life lately, you guys. And for me - detail-orientated, planning, dreaming, goal-driven me... this is unimaginably hard. 

For those of you that didn't get the news, I was waitlisted for the Doctor of Physical Therapy Program at Mercer University, and I was also waitlisted for UCF. So naturally... there's been a wrinkle in some of my carefully laid plans.

I guess I always imagined that graduate school would come, maybe not easily, but it would come, and getting accepted wasn't a matter of if, but when, and what I really had to deal with was what happened next. But it would seem that, perhaps, that isn't God's immediate plan for me. And I have been greatly humbled for having learned this. My perfect plans did not come to fruition.

So what's next? I have had to confront the possibility that Grad School isn't happening this year, and that for a year or so I will possibly be stuck in limbo, grabbing up more physical therapy experience to beef up my resume and trying to figure out how to get a "real" job (because princessing is nice, but just it alone won't pay the student loans or tolerate my love of buying clothes).  

Truth is I'm not quite sure, and that's a scary feeling. The "real world" was supposed to still be three years away, and suddenly I find myself about to be immersed in it, and kind of unprepared. Where do I look for a job? Will I get hired? Will that factor in to my ability to qualify for Medicaid? So many questions, so few answers. 

On top of that it's just hard, because I have built a life here at Wesleyan and truly love the people and places I have come to know. The crisp winter air, the yellow leaves of the gingko tree in fall, the geese walking on the quad. I savour and treasure every precious moment, realizing now what they say when they tell you that college years are some of the best years of your life. Yes, I'm stressed, pretty much all the time. Yes, I work, way more than I should. Bills come before fun purchases, and dining hall food gets a little old after a while. But the experiences.... the relationships built with people, even my love for working in the office of Admissions at Wesleyan make me realize that I hesitate to say goodbye to my cherished title of undergraduate student in just 3 months. 

But the Lord's purpose prevails, does it not? I am excited. There are so many possibilities before me, so many opportunities in which to test the waters and discover my niches and discover what is hopefully an even greater appreciation and love for life. I readily embrace the future, as scary, and uncertain, and delightful as it is. It's going to be a great adventure! And success will come... in some way, in some form: I know that it will. 

A Shift in Perspective

I rant a lot about Diabetes on here. I talk a lot about myself - fair, ok, it's my blog - but I want to share with you all something different today, that's had a big impact on my life in the last year.

I started interning at Nursing Homes with different Physical Therapists last year, and it really started to pull at my heart and change my perspective on things.

You look at all the troubles you have... and then you look at them. These tired, these weary, the sick or sad or alone. The happy ones, the bitter ones, the talkative ones. There are people from all walks of life. Rich, poor, Medicaid, Private Pay, wheelchair-bound, walker-aided. Some people are very self sufficient. Others can't even reach for the remote beside their bed. Who are you to complain?

These people built the businesses around you, the city lights, they elected famous presidents, senators, passed bills, taught your parents how to read and write in school... and yet, so many of them are here, and are forgotten. And it's a shame because it is beautiful, and they are beautiful, if you can look with the right kind of eye. Remember what beauty really means. They are too old for facades and worn out phrases and fake smiles. They tell it to you like it is, they smile with their whole heart or not at all. They show real pain or frustration or anger, or real joy that you took the time to stop and listen to their stories. Sometimes I leave the nursing home happy. Sometimes I leave wanting to cry.

An elderly man struggling to walk, aided by the parallel bars... his wife comes to visit and stands at the end, smiles and says,
"Walk to me, honey. Like you did down the aisle on our wedding day. Walk down here and kiss me like you did then."

A fluffy, white haired woman in her bed, who looks at me and says - "Young lady, no matter what you go on to do... be good to people. Always be good to people, especially us elderly - you never know when one of us will be spending our last day on Earth. Be good to people, even when they aren't good to you - because one day, all of us will answer to God."

I think of these memories and moments and my heart outpours with love for them. Most of us will grow to be old someday, and think, how would you want to be treated? Nursing homes are not always pleasant places. They aren't happy, sometimes they smell, sometimes you have to try hard not to turn away. I feel that these are things you have to look past. These people truly matter, they really do. My first day of interning at a nursing home, I asked one of the Physical Therapists if it really made a difference. I'd come from an outpatient facility where the patients often got  better and were younger, healed more easily. Many of the elderly patients couldn't even stand.

Does it matter? Truly?
He look at me and says,
Yes. Even if I can help this man do something as simple as push his wheelchair around, I have made a difference. His quality of life has gotten better, even if only by a little bit - and it's made him a little more comfortable and happy. Making someone's life better, no matter there age, is a meaningful thing to me. 

And he was right - and I have come to realize that too. If therapists can help these people to sit up, walk again, push their walker, use the rest room, brush their hair, eat by themselves - well, then that's a difference, whether they live two more weeks or two more years. If you listen to their stories, make them a card, come visit, volunteer, push their wheelchair, pay attention, get them a drink - that's meaningful, too. Your time is meaningful, and meaningful to others. It's helping others, and just because someone is old doesn't make them any less worthy of help, if anything it has made them more worthy of your help and time.
Maybe it's not the most glamorous of places, but I have found something in these homes that I have rarely found elsewhere, and that's a kind of true human love and compassion for complete strangers that I never thought I'd find. I love the stories, the raw emotion, the funny and inappropriate residents, the sweet little old ladies, the cranky cynical ones, the ones with the wise eyes, the ones that say nothing at all. People deserve love, no matter who they are or how they treat you. Love is not always contingent on someone, but it's something you give freely and openly, expecting nothing in return, no recognition, and it shapes and changes your heart in the best of ways when you do that.

When I am with these people, my own troubles fade away. I am not a diabetic with my troubles, the ones that weigh me down and make me feel older than I should. I am a young woman lucky to be alive and walking and blessed with the capability to give my time and efforts to others in need. I am lucky. I am blessed. I can spread happiness to other people, even if it's only just a smile. Emily Dickinson says it best, and it's exactly why I want to be a physical therapist and help others someday:

If I can stop one heart from breaking,

I shall not live in vain;

If I can ease one life the aching,

Or cool one pain,

Or help one fainting robin

Unto his nest again,

I shall not live in vain.

The Funny Thing About Life Lessons...

Greetings, all!
Today has been a godsend - thanks to MLK day, I am off work and school and happily able to play catch up with all of my homework. Booking Gigs, invoices, phone calls, trying to sort out hospital bills, while doing homework and studying is no easy task. But I'm slowly and steadily working through it, reminding myself to be calm and not get overwhelmed. Philippians 4:6-7 is a verse I have had to remind myself of a lot lately:

6 Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. 7 Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

Don't worry indeed. I have to keep myself reminded that God has got it all covered. I will keep doing what I do, and pray, and trust in his plan (despite my stubbornness!)

Anyways, as a break to myself, I wanted to share an experience I had all the way back in September with you. I thought that it would make a good story, so, here you go:



It was Labor Day, and I was sitting in a hotel room in Forsyth as Josh's family was busy moving. Marleigh, Laurie and I had driven a big carload of stuff and then stopped back at the room to rest; I was absorbed in my studying, freaking out about the massive amounts of reading and assignments I had left to do.
So when they decided to go back out and pick some more things up at the house, I solemnly declined so that I could stay and study.

Sitting in the room alone, it briefly occurred to me that I might get low. Did I even have a snack left on me? But as I had just eaten a snack a short while ago, I steadfastly delved into my genetics homework, the possibility not really being a huge worry to me.

The clock ticked by silently, and I did my best to focus.

I studied on...What was it that I last read? My thoughts flitted.

15 minutes later when the shake started, I knew what was happening. NoNoNoNoNoNoNoNoNo. I pleaded as I grabbed the meter and tested. Luck was against me today, as it would have it. It was confirmed: I was 49 and likely falling fast.

Shoot, shoot, shoot. What was I going to do? I was stuck alone in this hotel room.
I thought that surely, I had to have a snack somewhere. I checked my backpack. My purse. I started to frantically search the hotel room. I look everywhere - there was not a carb to be found. I had no change, only my debit card, for a soda machine. I had no snack, there was nothing here I knew about...

I grabbed my phone and started calling Marleigh, Laurie, Josh, Jake, Anyone. No one picked up - they were all busy moving, and doubtful they had their phones on them. Stupid! I yelled silently at myself. How had I forgotten to bring a snack? I never wanted to be in this kind of situation.

I started to panic. I paced the hotel room. I looked again for snacks. All the while the shaking consumed more and more of me as the minutes passed. My ears were buzzing, my brain numb, my tongue tingling. I wobbled unsteadily through the room, knowing that if I didn't find something soon, I was in serious trouble.

Maybe the situation wasn't even that bad, in retrospect. Maybe it doesn't sound bad to you. But to me - this was terrifying. No one was around. No one knew what was going on. I was by myself in this struggle, and it sucks, to feel powerless, to feel like something is getting the best of you. This low was getting the best of me - me, for all of my drive and passion, I am transformed into a lifeless, irritable zombie of my former self when I am low. Transformed in a moment of bodily shock and pure desperation, I don't even recognize who I am. I am simply someone who needs something, in those moments. It's those moments when you realize how dependent you are... and how scary it is to be so dependent. And if you don't treat a low, you will eventually pass out, and can go into seizures and die. And judging by my blood sugar at the time, that wasn't necessarily too far off.

I sank down to the ground and cried. The low was messing with my head. I was panicking and my heart was racing, but I was so weak I didn't really have any idea of what to do. I couldn't think straight, couldn't react, only cry and curse Diabetes and wish things were different. I did this for about 4 minutes until I lifted my chin up and looked at myself in the mirror.

Look at you, Lacy. This isn't you. And Diabetes isn't you - you aren't helpless. Don't like this situation? It sucks? Get up and do something about it. 

I brushed myself off and got up. I grabbed the room key and left, barefoot and stumbling, down towards the lobby. Someone had to be around that could help me, right? I took me about 3 minutes to pad slowly down to the lobby, and once I found it I couldn't see anyone inside, it was midafternoon on a holiday and very quiet. But I saw the breakfast room, and though everything was cleaned up, like a beacon of hope, a lonely orange lay in the fruit basket. I was so excited I ran right over to it and reached to grab it.

"Can I help you?" One of the worker men asked as he came out of the kitchen. Startled, I said, "I'm low - I have low blood sug - well, I'm Diabetic and I need help and - do you have any more fruit?"

He went back into the kitchen and brought out two apples. I was delighted. "Thank you!" I said, biting into one of the apples, holding the other one in my hand like a trophy and walking slowly back to the room. It didn't take long to feel much better after eating both, and I was so thankful in that moment for apples and nice hotel employees that I almost forgot the panic I'd felt just minutes before.

These situations are scary, but I have to let them serve as wake up calls to remind myself that Diabetes never takes a break. I think that's what's so bad about it - it's a constant barrage of numbers, blood sugars, carbs, emotions, lows, highs, dry mouths, everything. It wears you down and just when you think you have had enough, you have no choice but to turn on the bedside lamp and give yourself the Lantus you forgot to administer before bed. Diabetes is as much psychological as it is physical - as a reader, I hope you will understand that. Imagine all of your troubles, and then pile on one more thing, one more constant, neverending thing, and ask yourself how you feel. When you're running late for class and you have to eat breakfast so you aren't low later but didn't make time to test and you have to drive to class while eating breakfast when do you find time to give your insulin? When, in all of those dicey, running-late times, do you make time to test when you're already exhausted because you've worked three days straight and gotten practically no sleep? Do you test, or sleep and face the guilt of a possibly bad number later...then you are the only one who can be held responsible if you get complications later in life?
These mind games are the games we live with.
That I live with. The time I say I won't need to take a snack is the time when I'll need one, and so on. And so I adapt, I get better, I bring 3 snacks instead of 1. Diabetes gives life lessons about treating it, just like life gives us lessons in order to better live.

As the case with most lessons, though, they usually come after the situation in which we could have used them.