The scars that bind

The moments seem to come and go with constant regularity of late. I feel on the verge of making some big decisions and I back away, sometimes slowly, sometimes even unwillingly but nonetheless back away. A step at a time, fast enough to not have to reconsider but slow enough to deceive myself that I never really reached a crossroad.

The baggage is unmistakable to me and I am masterful at hiding it. I dust the shelves to rid my mind of the memories, I sweep things under the carpet, I lock more skeletons in the closet but still they appear. I have “grown” to both expect and loathe their company.

Finding words to lift and inspire when everything seems to be going wrong is never an easy thing to do. I am the first to crawl deeper under the blankets and hide. If I am not hiding well you might find me running...probably sprinting in fact, doing all I can to escape. Familiarity has made me a little numb to be truthful. I learn to live with unresolved issues and problems. I move and shift them around just enough to prevent them collapsing...for one more day. If I just inch that to this side, move this over here, ignore that nightmare low, disregard that unflinching high then I will get through until tomorrow.

If it’s not life in general, it is diabetes, if not diabetes it is life in general. Problems, mistakes, miscalculations, anger, rage and guilt. Bitterness, blame, abuse, self pity and isolation. Just a few of the words, some of the sentiments but they too are imperfect. They hint at the problem, provide an insight but the real words are elusive. They swirl around in some mysterious cloud just out of reach, taunting me to stretch for them, to define them.
If time in the diabetes wilderness has taught me one thing, it is that not much is normal and not a lot of things make sense. My body stands as a testimony to the fact. I share medical wards with people twice my age in better physical shape. They read eye charts I struggle to see. They do exercises I can no longer manage. I fail my own and others’ expectations with monotonous regularity..

These are some of my scars. I have mine and you may have yours. They need not become objects of shame and isolation. They need not be swept under carpets or whispered about in poorly lit rooms. They are part of what makes me me and you, you. When all is going wrong and diabetes makes no sense sometimes all that remains are scars They are the scars of life with a chronic illness and emotional rollercoaster rides but in community they are the scars that bind.

Sometimes you can't make it on your own. The things nobody told me

Fresh back from a fantastic walk I still have the words from the U2 hit "Sometimes you can't make it on your own" ringing in my head...

"Listen to me now
I need to let you know
You don't have to go it alone...
Sometimes you can't make it on your own"

Diabetes can be a very lonely illness. It can remain hidden from outside view yet must remain in the forefront of sufferers minds 24/7. Most of us enjoy the occassional day off of work, a public holiday, a vacation...a day at the game where we can leave behind the cares of life. Unfortunately we carry our diabetes with us everywhere. For me my meter, test strips, jelly beans and insulin are never far behind. Wherever I go, they will follow. It's not a choice, not really even an afterthought but a necessity.

Never was the proverb "A problem shared is a proble halved" more appropriate than in coping with Diabetes...never was it truer that with Diabetes, "Sometimes you can'tmake it on your own".

Admitting to a shortcoming is never easy to do. Putting your hand up and saying that something is just too hard can be a humiliating experience at times. I admire people who seem to be able to address all of their issues head on without flinching but I am not one of those people. I have learned to admit it and I am proud to say that opening up to my need is helping to lessen it.

It is OK to admit to struggling with Diabetes. It is OK to struggle with motivation. It is OK to throw your hands up in frustration when it doesn't make sense...sometimes it just doesn't. Sometimes you put your best foot forward, do everything you possibly can and still shoot a 200+. That does not make you a diabetic failure, that makes you normal, yes that's right normal.

If like me at times, you are finding things hard that need not be the endgame. Reach out your hands and ask for help. There are many people going through the same struggles at various points in the journey. There are people out there who understand, there are people out there who care and yes there are people out there to take you by the hand and walk you through what may seem a dense forest.

With so many complications hitting me at a young age I got so down on myself so quickly. I lost nearly all sense of hope and purpose.....then I found others just like me, the same age going through the same complications; some struggling, some triumphing and some just asking questions like "why". Being part of a larger group doesn't take away the day to day physical struggle BUT it does motivate me.

Admitting to a need is not failure, it opens the door to real freedom. There is strength in numbers to overcome, there is strength to help you along today no matter where you are in the journey.

In celebration of the DOC

I don’t know if it’s the blind optimism that comes with New Year but something within me is looking to shout out in celebration

This post has really been six months in the making. In many ways it is just like diabetes management, full of inexplicable contradictions. It is both extremely easy and very difficult to write at the same time. The words flow from my mind in a jumbled mess as I try (probably unsuccessfully) to put them into some kind of coherent prose.

It all began with reading a simple online blog. After a long time in the diabetes “wilderness” post diagnosis I found myself swamped with feelings of guilt and isolation. Not only did I find diabetes almost impossible to talk to my friends about...things just did not always work the way they were meant to. It seemed that I was destined to be a “diabetic failure” always getting things wrong.

My exposure to the DOC showed me for the first time that the feelings of “inadequacy” and “guilt” were perfectly normal in diabetes. From one blog I came across another, then another, until finally I came to the “showcase” the real jewel in the DOC crown...The (US Eastern time) Wednesday evening DSMA Twitter chat with a huge shout out to its fearless moderator Cherise. Here was a place where I immediately felt at home. Here I found tens, even hundreds of people, all feeling exactly the same way as I did, battling with the same emotions, suffering similar defeats and winning similar victories. Here diabetes was talked about candidly and approached with a sense of humor that came from so many great and colorful personalities all interacting in real time.

This encounter however has led me to an unexpected problem in my personal surroundings. Amongst my circle of acquaintances chronic illness is a thing of great shame, a shame that heaped “guilt” on top of the normal problems of my diabetes management. Meeting so many great people online has taught me that there is indeed no shame in diabetes. Whilst it is certainly no cause for celebration, it is nothing to feel “guilty” about. This has left me in a kind of awkward position. I am no longer content to hide my diabetes from those around me. I want the feeling of glorious normality” I get from the DSMA chat to extend to my everyday life...

In many ways my blog has been the first point of connection between me “the diabetic” and the me amongst my acquaintances. Here, alone in my room, I feel I can freely address the good and bad side of living with diabetes on a daily basis. I don’t really know if anyone actually reads what I write but the release is tangible. Writing helps me to feel connected to so many others I have met in the DOC, for I find my words echoed in their blogs and vice versa. Diabetes is truly an illness best treated in “community”.

Insulin and fingersticks may well be essential accessories to healthy living (survival even) but there is no feeling like that of connection. The knowledge that I am not some kind of “freak” or “failure” is one that no medical text book or endocrinologist could (or will) ever impart. The more blogs I read and the more twitter chats I take part in, the more I feel the chains breaking. I am no world beater, (in fact I have faced several diabetic complications) but in “community I am one of many. I am strengthened by the struggles of others, I am renewed by your victories, I am brought to tears with your loss and I am led to uncontrollable laughter by your irony and sense of humor.

The DOC is a place of reality and humanity. As another year begins I am honoured to start it with those of you I have met online. Thank you for accepting me as I am and for the first time since diagnosis in a hospital A&E making me feel “normal”