Thursday, October 16, 2014

"Those people."

Since I’ve started school I’ve learned a lot about myself. 

I’ve learned that I’m kinda’ anal about things.  I get used to things a certain way, and I want them to stay that way forever.  I like routine.  I like knowing the facts.  I like numbers and the way that they have an absolute answer.  I don’t like flowery speech, and definitions that are open ended.  I like being successful.  I expect a lot out of myself.

Someone called me a nerd last week.  The word actually hung on me pretty well, so I’m going to keep it.

And so it has also been with Diabetes for lo these many years.  I’ve been an over achiever.  My boys A1C’s were da bomb.  I had a schedule.  I had high expectations for the boys and myself. I worked my tail off to be an over achiever, and reveled basking in the glow of it all.  Even if it was at my own detriment, it didn’t matter.  Success takes sacrifice, especially when our children are involved.

I have worked hard, and the ones that don’t or haven't?  Well “those people” don’t try hard enough.  Or “those people” are over scheduled.  Or “those people” need to prioritize. 

It’s easy to say, or to feel, or to think, until you actually become one of “those people.”

Today I’ve officially become one of them. 

Solidarity my “those people” brothers and sisters.

This afternoon I sat in the Endocrinologist’s office knowing what was coming, but firm in the knowledge that I couldn’t do more.  I knew that the boys were doing their best.  I knew that letting them fly these past couple months was going to have ramifications.  I also knew I'd done my best, and that was all I could do.

As I listened to the words come out of the doctor’s mouth, it all felt so surreal, like I was floating above watching her in someone else’s session. 

Missed boluses.

70% basal, 30% bolus ratio.

Set changes going 4 or 5 days.

What?

Surely she wasn’t talking to us! I almost glanced over my shoulder to see whom the hell she WAS talking to, but I stopped myself because there was a wall behind me, and denial and delusion are two different things…

And just like that, I accepted my denial; picked it up with both hands, cuddled with it for a moment and then epiphanized (I just made up that word)…we are “those people.”

Overscheduled.

Doing the best with what we have.

Prioritizing things over diabetes.

Not (gasp) perfect.

Turns out that “those people” are doing the best with what they have.

Turns out that “those people” have the best of intentions.

Turns out that “those people” just need to focus on keeping their head above water.  Everything else is just semantics sometimes.

Diabetes has been the crux of my existence for 16 years, and now that I’ve handed the boys the baton I have to own up to what that really means.

It means letting them make mistakes.  (After, helping them learn from those mistakes…but allowing them mess up nonetheless.)

And you know what?  I thought it would be harder than it is.

I thought I would feel guiltier than I do.

Instead I’m just full of pride.  (Ok, there is some guilt, I’ll own that, ) but they are rockstars even if they aren’t perfect.  I’ve always said you can’t do better than your best…I’ve talked the talk, now I have to walk the walk.  They are capable.  They are wonderful.  They are learning.

I’ll help them problem solve, and I’ll support them in any form that support needs to be…but the thing is, they walked into the appointment today knowing what they did and what they didn’t do.  They are smart.  I’m kinda’ smart too…sometimes.

We’ll figure it out together.

Today wasn’t perfect.  It was messier than I’m used to, but it wasn’t a disaster. 

These past couple years we’ve become professionals feeling our way around dark places.  I think now that we have some light shed on the problems, we’ll find ways to fix them.

That will take time.  In the past I wouldn’t allow that.  In the past things need to be fixed now, over time was for losers.


But now that we’re “those people?”  We’re going to follow our peoples lead and just keep doing our best.

Now, and over time.

Monday, October 13, 2014

Blogjacked, by B.

Yep. It happened again. That kid. That “B” kid. You got it right. Mom’s been Blogjacked. Well, first things first.  I have to write that “Introduction” deal. Well, here goes.

            Today I am going to talk about random things in a random order. First of all, When I go to San Francisco this week, Dr. G is NOT going to be happy. “Have your blood sugars been high?” Well, I have an answer. “There was this thing about cake with a million carbs, and… etc, etc.” But enough about that.

            Well, schools been fine. Except for the mountains of homework. And math. And English. And history. Actually, let me redo that sentence. School has been going boring. “B, I want you to write a 70 page essay on the triangle.” Ok, it might have not gone like that, but it was similar. All in all, school is boring and all right at the exact same time.

            Well, I’m just going to give it to you straight, I’m a nerd. Not one of those smart nerds, but an Internet nerd. Some people just be all like, “Why you ackin’ so cra cra?” (Haha, random. Told you.) But you shouldn’t be rude about it. Some can relate. Some may think this is an extremely pointless paragraph. But I don’t care about those rude people. Most people I know aren’t like that. >Most<. Enough about that.

            Well, I know it was pretty short, and I’m sorry, but don’t judge. The end, I guess.


B.

Monday, October 6, 2014

It marches anyway.


I’m busy.

Diabetes doesn’t care.

I'm busy.

So Diabetes isn’t a priority.

I can’t worry about numbers.

I can’t worry about what ifs. 

I need to worry about feeding the boys.

I need to worry about the next big exam at school.

My relationships with real people take priority over Diabetes right now.

Diabetes doesn’t care.

Diabetes marches on.  March, march, march…it circles my life, steady and unending.

And every now and then I see it and say, “Huh.  Hi, Diabetes.  I don’t have time to worry about you.”

Even without all of my attention, it marches.  Which is beyond me.  Doesn’t my worry give Diabetes fuel?

It’s almost absurd that it doesn’t need my worry to continue.

Epiphany: My worry doesn’t change things.  It doesn’t change the numbers.

Doing.  Doing changes things.  Doing changes the numbers.

All the emotion I used to give Diabetes has been redirected.

The boys lead the march and I sit as a casual observer.  With their Endocrinologist appointment coming up in a couple weeks, that scares me.

(I said I’m busy, not brain dead.)

Bad number?  Fix it.

Why are you two boys numbers jumping at 10pm every night?  Sorry, I can’t tell you, and I don’t have any brain capacity whatsoever to figure it out.

I cannot put my energy into it.  I cannot give it my regret or my anger or my worry or my anything.  It’s not in me right now. 

Almost like life is a big game of Jenga, and diabetes is that lone wooden beam at the very bottom. The one beam that everything else balances on. I feel like if I try to fix the numbers, or put my energy into them…then the beam will move and everything else will topple over.

I just want to leave it alone.

I can’t handle toppling.


 If I don’t touch it, everything will be good enough.

Am I a failure if everything is good enough?

I’m sorry.  I don’t have time to think about that right now.

I’m busy.

Diabetes will have to wait.

But it doesn’t care.

It marches.

And life, and everyone important to me naturally follows the beat of its drum.

I will bounce my head to the beat and try to make something beautiful out of it...


And hope that this letting go is the natural order of things rather than just pure stupidity on my part.



(Plot twist: Just in case I am stupid, I walked away from this post and changed B's sensitivity from 3pm to midnight.  I'll spend the rest of my evening bracing for the avalanche.  Because even though sometimes D Moms can't think about it, we do anyway.)

Monday, September 22, 2014

Trust. Believe. Achieve. Also, pep talk #543


Too often I worry.

What if.

Have I done enough?

No.  I’ve never done enough.

Too often I question my abilities.  I wonder if I’ll be able to achieve the future that my mind and body desires so.

Too often I hope without having faith.  I put my head down, move forward and forget to trust in the future ahead of me.

Will I make it?  Will I succeed?

Spoiler: YES.


 Those questions in my mind do me no good.  Questioning my abilities only turns my eyes towards my weakness instead of my strength.  If I concentrate on the struggle, I will struggle.  If I concentrate on overcoming, I will overcome.

I will go in the direction of my thoughts.  Why don’t I set myself up for success for keeping my thoughts positive?


 What harm would believing in myself do?

What harm would it be to believe in something I don’t know how to achieve?  Seeing the impossible in front of me shouldn’t stop me from wanting it.  Who says it is impossible?  And why is that person right?

Because if I’ve learned anything in life it is this:  Things work out.

Trusting in a beautiful future doesn’t have to be na├»ve.  In fact, it can be genius.

Trusting that tomorrow will be better soothes the soul and relaxes me into a state that only CAN make tomorrow better.

I am what I think.

I need to stop doubting my abilities.  I need to find confidence in a tomorrow that is waiting for me with open arms.

Why not run to that tomorrow rather than tripping over myself to get there?

Why not allow myself to dream?  Why not allow myself to believe?


I may not be perfect, but I am capable.  And everything I lack can be made up tenfold by trusting in goodness.  Trusting in love.  Trusting in the positives.  Trusting in myself.

Why limit myself with self-doubt?

I can do anything if only I believe.

Tonight, I believe.

Tonight, I trust.

If it is true that one reaps what one sows, I’ll be harvesting a future of amazing…grown under the nourishment of hard work and perseverance.

Do you stop yourself from hoping because you can’t see how the endpoint will be achieved?  Maybe we need to stop worrying about that and trust in the dream.

If we put the energy into that dream, then we’ll move towards it…and even if we aren’t there today, we’ll be closer to it than we were yesterday.

And isn’t that progress?

Ryan used to always say, “Every day a bit better.”  Tonight I concur, and add…”Every day a bit closer to the dream.”

I can do it.

I am doing it.

I will do it.

I’m on my way.

Come with me.


Friday, August 29, 2014

Dear 97.



Dear 97,

The world would have me think that you’re all that.  I know better.

You are reckless and unpredictable, in fact I’d venture a guess that your middle name is Danger…I think it’s time the truth got out there.

Last night you came to visit just as my son was going to bed at 9:23pm.  Admittedly, a visit from 54 or 398 would have been a bit more disconcerting, but the pinnacle intention of this letter is this: you are just as dangerous.  You lull us into a feeling of comfortability and then, without warning, drop.

And drop hard.

It’s a cruel cruel joke.

I know that the possibility of you staying 97 is slim to none.  And even though I know that the possibility of you growing into a larger number exists also…I know the odds are not favorable to do so.

So I feed you.  You know I’m going to feed you.  That is why you come.

Pig.

And then you give me the virtual finger by jumping to a 248.

Even if I give just a couple bites of something, you put all of your effort into jumping as high as you can.  We all can see you are doing it on purpose.

97.  You are a selfish number.

97.  You hide under the guise of security, of “normality.”  You make us feel like you are a successful place to be, and then you take advantage of that vulnerability and cause frustration.

All I can do is shake my head at you and ask you to leave for now.

One day your impact on this family will be one of Styrofoam…neither here nor there. 

Until that day, I bid you adieu!

Ever so Sincerely,  




P.S. If you want to drop by for lunch on Saturday, I guess it'd be ok.