My life out in the open

Yes, my life revolves a lot around diabetes. From the moment I wake up to the moment I go to bed, my mind is constantly involved with how I feel, what I’m eating, what I’m going to be eating.

I’m testing 4-9 times a day. I’m injecting 4-9 times a day, ranging from injecting for a meal, to injecting for a correction, to injecting my background insulin, and injecting for random surprise snacks. When I step on the bike or go out, I have to have all my stuff with me – insulin, sugar, glucometer, alcohol wipes, backup batteries, lancets, needles and bandaids. Before I go outside I have to make sure I either ate enough or my bloodsugar is high enough so that I don’t pass out and cause accidents. When I go to bed, I have to make sure I don’t have a nigh time hypo from which I’ll never wake up just in case I fucked up somewhere during the day and evening.

I have to put up with the horrible feelings of hypoglycemia and hyperglycemia. Shaking, feeling confused, hungry and fog brained, often not immediately realizing you need to fix this NOW, is a horrible way to spend your time when you run low. Feeling exhausted and lethargic, fog brained, unwell, hungry and dealing with headaches is really awful when you run high. It can take hours to recover from these and sometimes they happen even when you do everything right.

I don’t think diabetes defines me, but if I want to be healthy and take good care of myself, it’s a full time occupation and difficult to avoid. It’s on my mind constantly. It can make you weary. I like to share everything about it because it keeps me motivated and pulls me through the times where I’m putting off my injection or struggling with the guilt of overeating (when you count carbs and inject to what you eat religiously even when you’re stuck in anxiety induced binge mode, it’s very confronting to see how much goes into your body).

My view on food has changed dramatically. I’m constantly thinking “Can I eat that? How many carbs? What will it do to my levels? How much fat is in there? How long do I have to wait between injecting and eating?” Whenever people ask about dietary advice, it’s hard to give that from outside the diabetes perspective. (Sorry if I sometimes forget not everyone has to be so mindful of their food!)

A lot of the time, people don’t take care of their diabetes the way they should, or they have learned to hide it from everyone. I’m very open and diligent so I’m sure it can appear as if I’m constantly shoving it into everyone’s faces especially when other diabetics are mum about theirs. But this is my life, and I want to grow old, so I want to make sure I got this and don’t fuck it up. I’m gonna talk about it because it makes up a lot of my day, even if it’s annoying, and it helps me avoid feeling burned out and isolated.



via Daily Prompt: Maybe

I’m absolutely exhausted and don’t know why I’m still up and writing this post. The word ‘maybe’ has been rolling around in my head all day long ever since I saw the prompt, and I find I can relate to it well. Maybe too well.

‘Maybe’ is a powerful word. It can open as many doors as it closes. It can make the difference between feeling grounded in the world or feeling like the world is spinning out of control.

‘Maybe’ is a tool that has great purpose in the hands of a curious, determined and strong willed mind. It challenges to think outside of the box and explore where no-one has gone before. It has been the sole reason for many great inventions and medical progress, because someone, one day, thought to themselves ‘Maybe this could work’, and they believed it was worth trying.

‘Maybe’ is the reason many people never take action. It reminds us of the possibility that an idea might not work. It tricks us into thinking that the odds are against us, when that might not be true at all. At the root of uncertainty lies this word, which echoes through our minds when we need to hear it the least.

Maybe the word ‘maybe’ is just an accurate reflection of what life is all about. Potential, risk, uncertainty, the thrill of the unknown, the fear of the unknown, and everything else that keeps our daily existence from becoming a static predictability. The good and the bad. Light and dark. Maybe it’s all just a matter of perspective.

A spiritual thought

“The folklore among knitters is that everything handmade should have at least one mistake so an evil spirit will not become trapped in the maze of perfect stitches. A missed increase or decrease, a crooked seam, a place where the tension is uneven – the mistake is a crack left open to let in the light. The evil spirit I want to usher out of my knitting and my life is at once a spirit of laziness and of over-achieving. It’s that little voice in my head that says, I won’t even try this because it doesn’t come naturally to me and I won’t be very good at it.”

– Kyoko Mori, ‘Yarn’ (Source)

For as long as I can remember I’ve always been a perfectionist. Even as a child, things always had to be ‘just right’ or it wasn’t good enough. I think my biggest hurdle with knitting has been to let go of that perfectionism and accept that hand crafting is never, ever flawless. Even if others may produce works that seem flawless, I am 100% convinced there is at least one small mistake that only the crafter sees but is still there.

Whenever I help someone new to knitting with their (first) projects, I always try to impart this little bit of wisdom to them. The beauty of knitting lies not in a flawless piece, but in a flawed piece that represents who and what we are. It’s about the love for the craft, the journey you take and the fondness with which you bind off the last stitch. There will never be another item like the one you just made, not exactly, at least. Every flaw it carries is what makes it unique and precious to the recipient. Holding this idea dear to you will help you explore new techniques and try daunting new patterns and constructions without fearing that your finished object may not be ‘good enough’.

One of those days…

Somehow I managed to get a full night’s sleep. When I woke up I still felt exhausted though, probably because of all the vivid dreams I was having. (That generally doesn’t make for a restful sleep huh?) I managed to shower and go to group.

Worked on the legs of my mom’s socks in a 2×2 rib and ended up dropping a stitch. I thought I’d caught it but I was working a loose strand while the stitch dropped farther and farther down. Cursed a lot and fixed that. The group had two nice ladies who were sitting in on a trial day to see if they like our group to join. I don’t dislike them, but they were overbearingly present. They’re also friends from a different therapy group and kept talking over me and others when we tried to speak up. It made this afternoon feel noisy and I felt really excluded from the room because of it after a while. Again, it’s not that I don’t like them, but the novelty of our place and their (very understandable clique-ness) just didn’t make this afternoon nice for me.

I came back home and it looked like everyone chose my street to go home through. One side of the road has parking spaces while the other doesn’t, which means that one parked car forces that side to wait and let the others pass. I park in those spaces. They were all filled up by people waiting to pass and I had to wedge my car into a space I needed to parallel park in but couldn’t. I waited for the road to clear but the fucking cars kept coming and nobody was taking heed of my situation. So goddamn annoying. It took forever to get out of there and I ended up parking farther ahead in a fit of rage.

As soon as I exited my car and shut the door, the side view mirror fell out of its slot (thankfully it didn’t break). It was raining and storming while I tried to force it back. It won’t stick, one small tap on the back of the mirror and it falls out.

At this point I was so frustrated I just wanted to smash in the window with my fist. Or maybe punch a random cyclist off their bike. Instead I just threw the mirror into my car and texted my dad. Asked him if he can come down here tomorrow and take a look, he can probably get it fitted properly again.

It doesn’t really help that my back is very sore from chores yesterday, either. It feels like it’s just one of those clumsy days where nothing goes right and I’m better off tucked in bed with a good book and no obligations. If only life worked that way.