3
Sep

It's been a while

It's been a long while, actually. 25 years to be exact.

I imagined I would spend this day just as I spend it every other year: angry, mostly, with a lot of sadness built in. Boy, was I pleasantly surprised.

I spent the day landscaping the front yard with the Hubs. It was almost 40° out, so a few hours out in the sweltering heat was pretty unpleasant.

The rest of my day was spent hanging out with my little guy. He turned 4 months old today!

I'm learning that it's hard to find time or motivation to be angry about something you can't change when you're at the centre of the world for this tiny, cuddly little boy who loves you so much and lights up every time you walk in the room. In a small(er than before) way I'm still devastated about my initial diagnosis, but today it seems like those feelings pale in comparison to the way I feel when I hang out with Husband and baby and remember that we made this family. I am so, so proud to have made it this far surrounded by so, so much love.

3
Sep

22 years

September 3rd makes me angry.

It's not intentional, but it's a problem. Maybe.

Have you noticed I'm not too thrilled about this year's dia-versary?

Last year when my diabetes turned 21 I picked a fight on twitter with a local Doctor-slash-media-darling and his followers who were commenting on a promotion by a fast-food restaurant (Dairy Queen, I think) who was donating a percentage of ice cream sales to JDRF.
This guy is a huge proponent of balanced plant-based diets and exercise, and is (it seems/if his book sales are any indication) a beloved member of the community in my city. I followed him on twitter because my Nancy is a fan of his work, and up until a year ago, I was as well.

On Sept the 3rd of 2014 I was waiting at work for some processing to run, I scrolled through my twitter feed and saw this comment. I saw red; my vision literally clouded over and I felt blind-sided by the rage that had built swiftly and with a vengeance. I was furious -- he was essentially saying that by choosing to purchase food products from a retailer who serves sugary snacks, despite this restaurant donating part of their proceeds to JDRF, the buyer was contributing to a diabetes epidemic.

I called him out, as well as some of his followers. I spent a lot of that day trying to explain to randos on the internet how hurtful and cruel their comments were.  I think that day was the first time I realized how difficult it is to express yourself in 140 characters or less, and I'm not sure I managed to convince anyone to change their minds on the issue.

Despite this, I remain convinced that my inability to clearly articulate my argument does not make me wrong.

This year I haven't gone on any internet-rampages; rather, I found my mood sitting somewhere in the "I dare you to fuck with me" realm.
I hate this. I hate diabetes. I hate how upsetting I find it and I hate how angry it sometimes makes me. I hate how there are days where I am so frustrated with trying to stay alive that I honestly and truly believe I might just give up, just lose the ability to continue to try, consequences be damned.

It crosses my mind every time I bolus for a large meal that unless I eat, I have likely just given a lethal dose of a medication. Sometimes this balancing act feels all but impossible.

 

None of this is coming out as I want it to, but that's about the norm as far as my diabetes-related-feelings go.

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