On my way home, I was listening to the Depeche Mode album “Sounds of the Universe.” The first song is called “In Chains” and although it’s a love song about how he’s tied to this special person, for me, it described my life with diabetes.
“I know you know what you’re doing to me / I know my hands will never be free / I know what it’s like to be / In chains.”
All right, so maybe diabetes isn’t exactly a person, but a lot of the time, it feels like one. I’ve personified it before calling it my best friend and someone I have to learn to live with. Mila Ferrer who blogs at Jaime, Mi Dulce Guerrero has called it Tía Bety, a mean aunt coming to ruin the day. Regardless of how you see it or how you deal with it, sometimes it feels like you’re living in chains.
I had gone to see my endo. The last few months haven’t exactly been the greatest in terms of diabetes management. If you’re like me, there are times when one area of your life is going awesomely that sometimes the health consciousness takes a backseat although it isn’t supposed to. Additionally, there is the occasional burnout when you literally want to just give up on trying to figure it all out.
I’m busy. Work is going well, I’ve start working out and I’m doing a whole lot of new things, but damn, the beeping, the checking, the monitoring cramps my style. Sometimes. Like being a kid: You don’t want to eat your vegetables at dinner knowing the rest of your friends are outside on the block and playing without you. I don’t always want to eat my vegetables!
There is no time like that of hearing your management has fallen to the wayside. It hit me hard. It made me tired and it made me want to cry. I eventually did on the ride home because of frustration. Exhaustion. And then, re-realized that it’s never going away. This is the joy of having a chronic illness. There are times that it’s such a part of you, you don’t think about it at all. Then there are those realization moments when it hits you: This isn’t a cold. This isn’t the flu. This is not going away. I work my tail off for something, but there is no finish line in sight– just the end of my life.
Morbid. I know. But along with the strengthening times, the wonderful times, the moments you take to learn from your mistakes, there are also the lows. The times where you feel helpless and crying is the only answer. Laughter works too, but crying… that release… it does help.
I’m moving forward, as always, without a choice, and learning about what’s going to make me feel better, be better and be the healthiest person I can. ¡Pa’ lante con la lucha!
I felt that I’ve shared things like this before. It doesn’t get any easier. However, for those who know me, know that I’m willing to talk about it and willing to support you when you need me. Just like you’ve been there for me, too.