I'm back, but I won't promise for how long. I took a break, not because I didn't have anything to say, but frankly I just had too much to say. It's hard trying to compile all the thoughts going on in your head sometimes, and I'm very conscious of how I phrase things and who reads this. This is a place to express myself, but still, I'm a pretty guarded person. This is certainly not a bare-all blog.
So what has happened since I was last here? I don't even remember when that was. I suppose I could say that I've got a job for the summer. I've been promoted to resident director for next year. My diabetes seems to be more manageable lately.
Let's talk about that.
I suck at diabetes. Like, legitimately. My A1C's have always been bad, and the people who get concerned because they think they might be above 8.0 just blow my mind. Really, kudos if that's you, but psychologically I've just never been there. I armchair psycho-analyze myself about this all the time, why I am incapable of taking care of myself but others are. I want to blame other people, I want to blame myself, but I've found that blame just doesn't solve the problem. What did, however, is letting my parents back in.
Everyone knows and seems to accept that adolescent development involves pushing one's parents away. I was terrified of what would happen if I went to college and had never taken care of myself. I was always an independent person, but because there was a sense of urgency with my diabetes and health, I think I was more aggressive with my control over it. I made an almost violent move to take it all from my parents, and when I failed to manage it on my own, refused to admit defeat.
This winter break I finally talked to my parents, and in what was probably one of the hardest moves I've ever made, invited them back in to my care.
I don't know why, but now, I remember to test myself at least once a day. I remember to take my insulin. I remember to do site changes more often. I spend less time high. I'm actually excited to see what my next A1C will be. My control is no longer tight, but it's at least, in my view, acceptable. It's funny how something as simple as asking my mom to email me blood sugar reminders oculd have changed everything.
I don't think my parents were stupid, they knew I was struggling. It's not like my confession came as a shock, but somehow just me telling them, putting it out there instead of letting it be the elephant in the room, changed the entire dynamic. I don't tell them what my blood sugars are still, I'm still doing all the ordering and prescription legwork, but them just reminding me 4 times a day to check, even if I don't, I don't know, maybe it's just the thought that someone out there cares for me? That someone has enough concern to check in on me? That I'm not alone in the fight?
I guess I really don't want to question it, but just when I was going to give up and figure I just wouldn't ever be able to have kids, things are turning around. I really never thought I would be here. I really thought I was just a hopeless case. I was just dealt a bad hand and had to suck it up.
A depressing view, but it's the one I had adapted.
So to be here, where I am, feels impossible. I feel like I survived something. And I'm afraid to applaud myself for it because I'm afraid that the balances will tip and I'll be out of control again. It's really only been about 3 months now. It seems like it should be long enough to have a solid habit formed, but I've managed to break it before.
With tentative hope, I move forward.