Sometimes I get into the darkest most angry moods.
But it's not like before when I used to cry for hours and hours and still not feel any relief. I feel so lucky that I have made it to this point in
my life... to be able to bury it. To be able to stuff it all deep down inside of me and pretend like it's not there... except now I know it's there
and it'll never go away. It's just been set aside and I can do that, I can just set it aside for now.
But sometimes I just want to be able to complain about my sad life and my body.
It's utterly broken... and I still sometimes want to blame the world and everything that happened to me for breaking my body.
But no matter how much I complain about things or talk about how I should suicide by ice-cream, I want you to know that actions speak louder than
words and it's clear that I want to live and more than that, I have to make the conscious decision to live daily, several times daily in fact,
probably unlike most of you. Your bodies are on automatic and mine is a little more manual in requiring an extra conscious effort to survive, forcing
an extra awareness of other functions of the body.
You're lucky you never have to think about these things.
But I have to choose life whenever I put food in my mouth, whenever I poke my fingers, whenever I administer insulin, whenever I leave my house and
drive my car; I have to wonder if my blood sugar will drop when I go to the grocery store or the park or whenever I take a shower.
I have to keep track of when I eat, how much water I've had, how much exercise I anticipate to be having, how much insulin I've had and when was the
last time that I took any insulin because the doses can potentially overlap and if you're not careful you can overdose on insulin and honestly, it's
too easy to overdose on insulin.
Death would come swiftly and almost soundlessly, and sadly it does happen.
But also there's all these other things that can happen from not enough insulin over time, there's the sudden heart attacks to look forward to, and
the long term effects on the toes and fingers... losing limbs and going blind.
Yes, I have Type 1 diabetes and most of you will never know the difference between Type 1 and Type 2 and most of you will tell me there's cures galore
and you'll send me articles about Type 2 diabetes and you'll tell me I can live without insulin injections if I just changed my diet or if I just did
this or that...
And sometimes I have to break the news to those kind people who really just want to help me but can't and I have to be the one to expose their
ignorance and tell them that they've been utterly mistaken... and other times I just smile and nod. Because frankly, I get tired of explaining
things, of trying to educate people.
Of people questioning whether or not I should be having a slice of pizza or a kind bar.
Of being treated like an idiot or like I'm not taking care of myself... when here I am all the while consciously choosing life and struggling to do my
very best with the resources I have available to me.
So we learn to stop sharing so freely. We learn to have more caution when it comes to letting others in on our private conditions... and then if we
do choose to disclose sensitive information to others, we learn to expect people to say all of the most rude ignorant things. At least now if we
expect the worst out of them then at least we won't be disappointed, at least we'll be prepared... and sadly most of the time we're right to expect
We expect you to judge. We expect you to deny the utter helplessness of the situation, because it's too hard for you to accept that any body could be
so helpless, held prisoner by the autoantibodies that infiltrate the blood. Or in some other cases, to be held prisoner by
edit on 22-6-2019 by geezlouise because: (no reason given)