If it wasn’t important, I wouldn’t miss it so much

Sadness is a daily reality. Sometimes it’s godawful overwhelming, and sometimes it’s a tinge that flavors life.

It’s a season of loss for me. Loss of my baby — the Old Man Baby Cat, my orange floof of love. Loss of certain experiences, gathering in person with friends and getting hugs, drumming together, high-fiving coworkers.

I’ve been very fortunate to be able to stay home at this time, our effort to keep not only ourselves safe but to prevent being carriers of the Covid-19 coronavirus to others. We’ve been home since March 15, ironically an anniversary day of ours so it’s easier to remember.

It’s now May.

In that time we have left our neighborhood once, for a medical need, and otherwise have been finding our patterns and working on our physical, emotional, and mental health from home. Trying to be of help to others from a distance, as well, but…it’s a time of sadness, which can make it harder to help.

Grief and mourning are never far from my heart these days. I think about loss a lot. I try to think about how to handle it, how to prepare for the upcoming days this month that I know are going to be in that overwhelming hurt category. I’m never very far from crying or tearing up.

But there is also still good. As the Eleventh Doctor said, Life is a pile of good things and bad. Neither one makes the other invalid. Just right now the good things keep having that taste of bittersweet.

Seeing friends via video chats (and learning tips on how to deal with that unique stressor factor…seeing oneself or constantly being aware of what you look like is awkward at best) is a wonderful time. And oddly sad.

But the sad doesn’t negate the glad.

It’s a mix.

And I will take the mix and having the good reminders and sweet times with friends over complete isolation or just bad.

But I guess I’m trying to say, I also need to sit with the sadness. Let it be there. It is present. I acknowledge it.

Somehow that makes it hurt just a little less.

I accept it. It is my companion. It’s not really there for my harm. It shows me what I value and what is dear to me.

That actually shows me something good about myself.

 

 

May is National Mental Health Month. This article from The Guardian has some insights, tips, and links to resources for dealing with mental health needs during this time of physical distancing, including a link to the Crisis Text Line (at https://www.crisistextline.org/). Please know you are not alone.

My diaversary was last week

Three years ago last Saturday. July 6, 2016. That’s when I had official word of something I suspected and feared a decent bit. That’s also when I was finally able to start receiving the life-sustaining medicine I needed.

I knew the anniversary was coming but I kept forgetting and didn’t plan anything (some people celebrate their diaversary — I have — I say any reason for cake let’s go!). Instead I had a pretty good Saturday at work where I did my best to make progress on my plans for supporting others living with chronic conditions, and helped those who called and came to the place of employ, and did my best for my coworkers.

The first two years I feel like diabetes was about all I talked about. Maybe 70% or so. I did try very hard not to make that the only thing. I do appreciate friends, family members, and coworkers who were patient and also genuinely interested to hear me talk about it. This past year I feel like I have been growing more into myself as a whole person again, not only as a diabetic. This is the right direction.

Of course I’d rather not need to deal with this autoimmune disease every day, but I have definitely accepted it as a part of who I am and have been adapting to life with a broken organ. This is also the right direction.

The timing is right and come September I will be all the more able to share my story, what it means for me to live with this diagnosis, and spread awareness and understanding to others with peace in my mind and balance in my heart.

This year I didn’t have a party or eat a piece of cake. But that’s also okay. This year I feel like I’m ready to move forward. I have something of a handle on this ever-changing situation, my instincts are solid, my doctors are excellent, and my support is amazing.

I’ve been building up my house, my sanctuary. Very soon I will be able to open its doors to others.

Old year toast: To Us

I think I tend to feel melancholy on the last day of the year because even though it’s mainly a way to measure passing of time and mark events in life, it is still an ending.

Sometimes I’ve wanted to celebrate and eagerly anticipate the new year, but honestly I haven’t felt like celebrating a new year’s arrival since the end of 2016.

I thought this year I might like to pick a city three hours ahead, toast for the heck of it at 9pm my time, and just go to bed early. But, I’m not sure if that feels right either. Going to bed early is still definitely a good idea though.

I think my soul needs to sit quietly for a time today. The temptation is to sulk, which will help nothing, but a bit of purposeful reflection may do me some good. It’s been a year full of good, and quite a bunch of bad. Perhaps I need to acknowledge this in order to put it to rest and move on to the new possibilities.

There’s still a lot of uncertainty, and quite frankly still a lot of bad that needs to be traveled through. Maybe that’s why the new year holds no particular excitement for me. But I will hold on to a quiet, unquenchable hope, the embers of fire in my deepest being that refuse to be put out no matter what. Sometimes those embers are cooler than at other times, but they’re still always burning, waiting until they can be full ablaze again with new kindling.

Maybe that’s my metaphor for the end of one year and beginning of another. It’s time to clear the ash away and keep it from snuffing out what’s still good. Time to find and bring in new kindling so the embers can create new fire. And then it will be time to place larger, longer burning firewood in a strategic manner to get the most of the fire for as long as possible, shifting and adjusting the wood structure of my life as needed.

This reminds me of a favorite song, Embers, by Owl City, which helped me through emotionally tough times when it was released and is still a heartening reminder.

So, I have my word for the new year. Perhaps it’s time to say a strange thank you to my old word, accept what it helped me with and what it didn’t really do, and contemplate the new word for 2019. Its time to embrace the ending, and remember it’s not final.

And when I wake up in 2019, I have a playlist to wake up and energize my emotions and my body for whatever lies ahead. Please feel free to use it as well or take it as a springboard to custom make one for yourself. Let’s be our best.

A toast to 2018, and to 2019. And mostly, to us.🥂

When the fire alarm sounds

Recently we had a bit of a moment at work. It’s happened before, and this is why if I were given a locker I would never use it, and why I always keep my things in my desk drawer (and if I had a key to the drawer, I would never lock it).

The morning is going fine, I’m about to start on another little project, and then…

The fire alarm goes off.

We’ve had a few false alarms in recent memory, but this girl is taking no chances. I know there is a common advice to Get Yourself Out, Your Things Can Be Replaced You Cannot and generally speaking I would say that’s very sound advice, but I have a Jack Sparrow moment each time this has happened.

“Not without my effects!”

Because here’s what I have to grab, and then I’ll tell you why.

Pocket things: Insulin pump controller, phone (with my Dexcom CGM app).
Purse: Money, ID, glucose tablets, snack bars, and fruit strips. Backup pump and extra insulin. All the swabby cloths I need to change pumps in a sanitary fashion. Test strips and lancing device. Ketone strips. Keys.
The rest: Bottle of water if I have one. Hat, jacket, scarf, coat, whatever extra clothes I brought. Lunch if I was about to eat.

The why: (Deep breath.) Because I have to be prepared. For everything. Because even the seemingly small things can turn a discomfort into an emergency.
It could be cold or windy that day. I need the jacket or coat. I am not eager to be exposed to the elements outside, across the street where everyone is supposed to wait for who ever knows how long.
Hydration is super important. Now, to be honest, I don’t focus on it a whole lot most days, but in case of an emergency, I need to make sure I have that water and sip on it. Dehydration and stress can very easily bring my blood glucose up and in a hurry. Trying to stay hydrated while waiting for the all-clear, and giving myself something pleasant to put at least a little attention on, can help.
My purse carries emergency supplies along with regularly needed equipment on a daily basis. Stress can also make my blood glucose go down, it just depends. And if that’s the case or if I need food (or if I’ve dosed insulin because I was expecting to have lunch or a snack, for instance), I have to have those foods or glucose tablets or juice or fruit strips or something (carbs)(and protein is good too) on hand. Which means, I need what’s in my purse, either the edibles or at the very least money with which to purchase something from one of the nearby food places in a hurry.
Also, if I have a pod failure, if it accidentally gets ripped off, or I’ve nearly used all the insulin in it and run out while we’re waiting, I have to have a new one and insulin to put in it right away. Since I use a pump instead of multiple daily injections (MDIs), I have to have constant insulin or my blood glucose can jump to the sky in no time.
Keys and ID of course in case for some reason we can’t go back to work, I need a way to get home.
And last but far from least, if I don’t have my pump controller and phone (or test strips and lancing device), I can’t make adjustments as needed, such as checking my blood sugar and dosing a little more insulin, or cutting back how much my constant (basal rate) insulin is given, or increasing it if I notice stress is sending my numbers up. Also without the pump controller I can’t deactivate my old pod and replace it with a new one if I have to.

It doesn’t take long. I keep everything nearby, so just a few seconds. And the last time the fire alarm sounded, I was on my feet gathering my things before anyone else was rolling back from their desk.

I don’t mess around with this. If it’s ever a real emergency, or even if it’s not but we have to wait, it can quickly become a real emergency for me. I have had low blood sugar while waiting for the signal that it was safe to return to work, and I had to wait extra time to go back in while the candy I had just eaten raised my numbers.

When I was in high school and college I felt bad for carrying the “mom” purse (one of my friends dubbed it the “Mary Poppins” purse. “Hermione bag” would work too.). I was the only one who kept so much on hand, but I was always prepared as best as I possibly could be, even though back then I had no emergency worries about blood sugar. But often I was the one who had snacks or other needed things for my friends when they had none. As it turns out, that practice of preparedness has helped me improve my technique and I can face most situations well.