Somebody New

It’s hard to not feel constantly defeated by diabetes. It’s hard to not feel defeated when the numbers continue to peak, but you’ve already bolused more insulin than you should have. It’s hard to not feel defeated when you need to ask loved ones to call at midnight and 3 AM to ensure you haven’t slipped into a diabetic coma while sleeping. It’s hard to not feel defeated when you must carry this weight around constantly.

A little voice in my head cries “I just want the needles to stop, is that too much to ask?” I don’t want to have to think so much before eating. I don’t want to weigh my food. I don’t want to force blood out of my fingers. I don’t want to monitor my life supplies. I don’t want to survive. I want to live.

Adhesive residue covers my body; my back and sides look more like the aftermath of a duel than skin. I gain weight and lose weight, gain weight and lose weight, gain and lose, gain and lose and gain and lose and gain and lose as my blood sugars fluctuate and stabilize.

The smell of maple syrup is one I’m all too familiar with for all the wrong reasons. The taste of cinnamon coerces relaxation while enticing conspiracy theories. Chalky artificial fruit flavoring triggers memories of summer camps and middle-of-the-night emergencies. There are test strips everywhere.

*Alarm blares* I check my sensor. I brush my teeth. I check my sensor. I pack my lunch. I prick my finger. I sit in class. I bolus. Wait ten minutes. Eat. Wait two hours. Check my sensor. Wait one hour. Prick my finger. Bolus. Wait ten minutes. Eat. Deflect stares confusion curiosity questions. Wait two hours. Check my sensor. Wait one hour. Prick my finger. Bolus. Wait ten minutes. Eat. Wait two hours. Check my sensor. Wait one hour. Prick my finger. Bolus. Don’t wait just Eat because my mother does not think about my diabetes. Eat because my mother forgets my pain. Wait two hours. Check my sensor. Prick my finger. Bolus. Pray to a god I don’t believe in. Pray I make it through the night so I can do this all over again and again and again.

Don’t think about how hard you work to live. Don’t think about how no one notices, takes the time to care, takes the time to love. Don’t think about how your mother does not need to wait to eat, so she forgets that you do. Don’t think about how your mother doesn’t see your suffering. Don’t think about your father and his selfish lifestyle. Don’t think about how he cares more about his own pain than yours. Don’t think about the needles. Don’t think about the vials. Don’t think about the alcohol and lancets and adhesives and sensors and test strips and measuring cups and timetimetime. Don’t think about the pain.

Push the pain away like a blanket when it becomes too warm. Fold the pain into a drawer. Now close the drawer and lock it. Throw away the key. Push the desk to the back, innermost corner of your mind. Get a new desk. A desk with no drawers because now you don’t have pain to hide. You have no pain.

Until three hours pass and it’s needles again. Until three days pass and it’s needles again. Until seven days pass and it’s needles again.

Push the pain away.

You have to think about living. You have to think about your choices, because you know more than anyone about their consequences. You have to think about what makes you happy and what makes you sad and what makes you mad and what makes you anxious and what makes you feel because that all impacts how your body behaves. Sometimes I want to turn off my feelings. I don’t want to think.

Sometimes, I ignore the needles. I don’t inflict pain. But then the pain comes and oh god it’s too much, is this what death feels like? it must be, oh god, I don’t think I can make it call the ambulance go to the hospital, is this what death feels like? A part of me dies every time. I promise I won’t do it again, and then I break that promise.

I didn’t ask for this life. I didn’t want it. Can I cancel this transaction and start over?

Sometimes, I ignore the needles. Sometimes, I want to die. Sometimes, I doubt that my life is worth this much work.

Is worth the needles is worth the pain.

Sometimes, Always,  I want a taste of Normalcy. Sometimes, I want to be Somebody New.

Life Itself

In 88 days, I will be living in the city of my dreams, the prodigal “room where it happens”. I will be given the opportunities of interning on Capitol Hill or volunteering at a number of non-profit organizations. I will meet people from around the world. And best of all, not a single person there knows me. I have no predisposed expectations to live up to. I can be a wholly new person and set up a new life for myself. This current moment is one I have been working for and dreaming of for over 7 years, and it is finally happening.

Now, I make lists of the valuables and in-valuables that I can’t live without; what books do I treasure enough to take with me, what image do I want to make for myself through the clothes I wear? I contact my insurance company and medical suppliers to see what my options are for treatment in what will be my new home. I register for disability services- something I never imagined I’d have to do, but know I must. I prepare for transition.

I have begun an exercise regimen and I am cleaning my diet. I have worn my CGM continuously for 2 months. My goal before I leave is to lower my HBa1C from 8.8 (in March) to 7.5 or lower, and I am currently on track to beat that goal. I’d like to lose some weight as well, but that goal is second to simply controlling my disease. I need to prove, to myself more than anyone else, that I am fully capable of being an independent adult and taking care of my health.

I am also learning when and how to ask for help. I lose no self-value in doing so and that lesson has taken time to learn, but the journey in doing so has been fruitful.

I am also remembering a lesson I taught myself through years of solitude: Let people go. There are people who enter your life to teach you, to guide you, and to support you, and once those people have served their purpose, they must be let go. There are some people who entered my life during my high school tenure whom I believed I could carry with me possibly for the rest of my life, but rapidly I am realizing that may not be the case. I wish them no ill will, simply that I need to let them go in order to continue becoming the best possible person I can be.

I am learning how to be happy. That is the most important lesson I can hope to learn in my life.

 

If you’re interested, once I move away I am planning on making a new blog to document my life in Washington, D.C. and eventually New York. I’ll link that blog here once it’s made.

Basic Instinct

I’m having a hard time believing in myself. Just having an overall difficult time believing I’m capable of being a good person, and having good intentions. I feel like I’m constantly fighting to convince myself to be the better person, and to not emotionally destroy people. Maybe I need better company. Maybe I need more time alone.

How do I convince myself that I deserve my lover boy? How do I pretend that I’m someone he should wait for? How do I fool myself into believing that, at the end of the day, I still deserve him?

I blame myself for a lot. There’s a lot that went wrong, has gone wrong, and is still going wrong, and I blame myself for a lot of it. At this point, I don’t know how to fix any of it. Instead, I just want to run away from it all. It’s supposed to be easier to just start over.

I don’t feel well, and I haven’t in a really long time. I keep trying to convince myself that I’m okay, but I’m tired of keeping up this façade. I want to go to a challenging and stimulating university, I want to be with my lover boy, I want to manage my diabetes, but most of all I just want to be happy.

My happiness has always been fleeting, too brief to truly appreciate. The only time it ever really stuck around was when lover boy and I were together. Every time I’m with him, I feel it. But look at how badly I screwed that up. Then again, would we be in the position we’re currently in if things didn’t end when they did? I don’t know. I have a lot of questions and not nearly enough answers.

I feel totally, abhorrently lost. I long for the days when everything made sense.

The Other Side of Paradise

I don’t know where to go from here. I’m feeling more than a little lost. I do not open myself up and allow myself to be vulnerable, because if I do, I only invite pain.

Pain and me, we go way back.

~Yes, I am upset that you aren’t giving me attention anymore. I am not ashamed of that. You were my father figure, my role model, I looked up to you for everything and anything, For years, you were my steady hand of guidance and my source of peace. Of course I am going to be upset when that all leaves.

You were there when my dad cheated on my mom. You saw how that destroyed me. You saw how that destroyed my ability to maintain relationships with the people I loved most. You helped me through it all. You help me regain my footing, find my balance, hold my chin up, and power through it. You repaired me.

You were there when I cheated on my soulmate. You built me back together. You taught me how to believe that I could make myself into a better person after it, right my wrongs as much I could and then some. You helped me find who I was, and work toward becoming a better person, someone worthy of my platypus. I still may not be that person, but I’m working toward it, because of you.

How am I supposed to feel when everything you’ve taught me, everything you instilled on me, you turn your back on? When you cheat? Have you no remorse? Do you look at yourself in the mirror? Do you see who you’re hurting? Do you care?

How am I supposed to pretend I deserve to have him back in my life, when you do this? When you show me that “once a cheater, always a cheater” may just be true? How am I supposed to believe in myself when the person whom I believed in most thinks he can deceive me and those who love him in this capacity?

You try to coerce me back in with macarons and empty “I love you”‘s, as if I don’t see right through you. You underestimate me at every turn.

“You are the most important person in my life outside of my immediate family.”

Bullshit. Total, complete bullshit. I’ll never understand how you have the audacity to continue lying to me like this. Who are you trying to fool? Because it’s not working on me.

Not the love note you were expecting, right?

~My soulmate. You make my heart skip a beat, and today, it may just stop beating altogether. I will wait as long as it takes, but I am terrified. What if you find someone better, someone more deserving of you, someone that won’t hurt you? I can’t compete.

You are the best thing to ever happen to me. You have the most genuine soul of anyone I know. You walked into my life when I needed you most, and you’ve been there for me at every turn. I have oceans of love for you, waiting for you.

 

“Even after all this time, the sun never says to the earth ‘You owe me.’ Look what happens with a love like that. It lights the sky.”

You light my world.

A Lack of Color

I wouldn’t call Tuesday an overreaction, but a gut reaction. Over time, and especially since seeing him, I did the one thing I was supposed to avoid at all costs: getting attached.

I love him. He loves me. We know this. He is my world as I am his. The distance is too great to make this any shade of easy. The distance itself isn’t even the problem; the real problem is how intense his workload is, to the point that simple texting is unfeasible for him. I know if he tried harder we could make it work, but I don’t want to ask that of him. He has too much to focus on and I don’t want to be a contributing factor to his stress; inversely, I want to be a source of relief and relaxation. I can’t be that person if I get attached.

I brought up spending a month in the summer with him, and he said he’s discuss it with his mother. It wasn’t a no, which gives me hope and I am allowing myself to hope, even if it’s just this once.

I miss being loved. Life is lonely and it isn’t easy.

Detune

Frustrating nights become frustrating days become frustrating weeks.

I really hate when people try to put words in my mouth or misconstrue what I was trying to say. If I say “I wasn’t impressed,” I did not say “I hated it” and don’t try to make it seem like I did.  For the most part, I mean exactly what I say, and except for few cases with few people, I rarely leave something up the implication. Do not try to assume how I feel or what I’m thinking because I can guarantee you will almost always be wrong.

This week got off to a rocky start on Monday and it’s felt pretty downhill from there. I had a few brief hours of respite last night, but I’m back in a hole and I don’t really feel like climbing out anytime soon.

I’m tired of people not doing their parts and leaving me to pick up their slack. I’m tired of people needlessly taking their frustrations out on me because someone else pissed them off. I’m tired of constantly being made out to be the bad person when I actively try to remain as fair and balanced as possible, and I watch everything I say so carefully. Literally, I don’t watch my tone for one sentence in an entire day, but that one sentence is held against me for a week. It’s honestly starting to feel like I won’t win regardless of how hard I try to remain in people’s good graces, and I’m starting to just get fed up with even trying.

For the first time in a really long while, it’s starting to feel like I won’t miss a lot of my life here once I leave for college. How unfortunate.

Satisfied

Cheers to another surprisingly good week!

I had another two interviews with universities I applied to, and they were worlds better than my first one! I’m still in shock at the praise I received from my interviewers, and the conversations I had with them make me really excited at the prospect of having similar conversations in a college environment. I’m really eager to be surrounded by people who are as willing and hungry to learn as I am. 70 days until I know where I’ll be living in just about eight months, and I’m excited.

I finally sorted out the issue with my sensor, which I am now happily wearing again after a four-month hiatus. Now that I’m halfway through the school year and I’ve gotten through the worst of it, I’m cracking down on my diabetes care again. I had let myself slip for the past few weeks because of how stressed I was due to applications, school, and competition, but I’m getting myself back together now. I need to instill good habits early to make sure I can remain healthy once I move away.

I’m lacking motivation when it comes to school simply because it feels like my teachers and peers collectively have given up. I get that we’re seniors, but I don’t understand why that means I should want to stop working. If anything, I feel like that would make the transition to college only that much more difficult. I want to be challenged and I want to grow, and it sucks that it seems like the people around me don’t want to put in the effort to do the same.

As time passes, I’m realizing more and more how difficult it will be to say goodbye to my family. I never anticipated that it would be this way. Growing up, I always had distant relationships with my cousins because of our large age differences, but as I’ve grown and matured, they’ve come to take me more seriously and we’ve grown closer. By the same token, I’m extremely joyed that at the very least, I will have them to call in good times and in bad.

My hard work and dedication in school are coming to fruition, my health is better than it has been in years, I’m happy with myself and the progress I’ve made. Good things are coming; I’m working for them.

Cocoa Hooves

From now on, I am going to try to empty my feelings at least once a week. I really enjoy being able to look back at old posts and see how far I’ve come, and I want to do it more often.

This past week was very good to me. I finally actually got my septum pierced on Tuesday, we finished a good show on Thursday, we’ll be covering a gay pride festival tomorrow. I said my goodbyes to my favorite person, and I feel very at peace. I got a lot off of my chest, and I really am okay.

I need to get back on track with my sugars. I’m scared I’m slipping back into a burnout, but I don’t know how to pull myself out of it. I’ve been having a lot of complications with my insurance and trying to get a new sensor, and that’s really put a damper on my want to take care of myself.

We’re in full-on competition mode now, which makes me both anxious and excited. I am preparing myself to leave everything I have on the table, but the stakes are high and I don’t want to pull an Icarus and fly too close to the sun. Planning the trip is even more stressful than I anticipated (which says a lot), but it also makes me feel incredibly productive and empowered.

I’ve been reading more lately which makes me really, really happy. I can’t believe I forgot the joy and tranquility that books provide.

I have two more college interviews coming up, but after my first one, I’m not that scared anymore.

I graduate in five months. I know I should be excited, and I am, but more than anything I’m scared. I’ve dreamt of graduating and going to college since I was 11, but now that it’s coming so quickly, I don’t know if I’m ready. Then again, will I ever really be ready? I want to be on my own, a free human being with an independent will, but there is SO much I have to worry about that I don’t know I’ll be able to handle it all. Only time will tell.

I’m happy in a way I haven’t been for a while. It’s a calm, quiet happy now. I’m going to make sure it lasts.

HandClap

Inspiration for another tattoo idea hit me: a bird flying out of an open cage. Jane Eyre. “I am a bird; and no net ensnares me.” Sure, the quote says net but a cage is much more aesthetically pleasing. I’m happy I finally found a relevant tattoo in honor of my favorite novel.

My winter break officially ends tomorrow. I’m proud of myself. My last school break was the summer and I was such a mess. Looking back, it pleases me to say I don’t really recognize that person anymore. I got through these two weeks alone for the most part and I got by very well. My own company was enough for once.

I had an interview with a big university yesterday, and although it didn’t go as I expected, I’m honored for having had the opportunity. I applied to a total of 16 schools and by April 1st, I’ll know where I’ll be living in the fall. My hard work is slowly and steadily being acknowledged.

I’ve been finding more time to read which also makes me happy. Books were my first friends and first loves, I’m glad I can still find solace in them.

Competition season is beginning and I can’t wait for the rush of working.

I’m eager for a change of pace. I’m growing in ways I never deemed possible only months ago, but I’m starting to feel, more than ever before, that Miami isn’t enough for me. I doubt I’d like New York very much, but I’m eager for the opportunity to explore it. I’ll be in California in March and although the west coast isn’t very appealing, I’m looking forward to this chance to be somewhere new and inviting. Chicago’s blisteringly cold winters scare me, but I think I’d like its overall atmosphere. DC is calling to me, but I need to see more of the world before I settle down.

I haven’t been to any museums in months; they were a special place of ours. I need an art fix. I might go mudding with some friends, though.

I never, in a million years, thought this would be my life, but I’m very happy for it. I’ve been reflecting on early-2016 the past few days, the carcass of a person that I was during that time, and I’m proud that I was able to pull myself out of that and make something better. I’m a stronger and more independent individual than I was then, and the future is only looking better.

There Is a Light That Never Goes Out

Beginnings are always the hardest part, figuratively and literally.

I think it’s fair to say I’m more emotional than I used to be, but I also think that’s an outward misconception. I’ve always felt these emotions, I’m simply more willing to show them now. I thought I used to cry a lot, but Past Me would be baffled if someone were to tell her how much I cry now. I’ve come to accept it; I think a big source of my conflicts from before were a result of keeping too much bottled up. Cathartic release is essential to a healthy mind, and so I cry heartily and often. It’s comforting to know the tears are not always sad, though.

As of today, I have applied or am in the process of applying to a total of 16 schools. So far, I’ve been accepted to two and deferred from one. I won’t find out about 12 schools until the week I am at national competition, which is totally unfortunate.

I’ve had three people tell me I should write a book, one going so far as to say I should write a memoir. I worry that I’ll never be able to see the potential and talent that so many others seem to see in me. Maybe one day. In a coffee shop. A couple years from now.

I’ve been doing very well lately. I’ve cracked down on myself to check my sugars more often and give my insulin when I’m supposed to. I’ve been having a lot of lows, but I’m going back to my doctor in two weeks so hopefully that will be fixed. Health insurance is still a bitch, and the looming responsibilities of impending adulthood are threatening to overburden me, but I’m hanging in there. Writing helps a lot.

I’m trying to make it a point to make love normal. I know this sounds weird, so let me explain.

As of December 23, 2016, my mother has told me “I love you” three times. My father has said the three magic words only once. I was raised in a household devoid of affection and love, and that has affected me profoundly. I’m not going to let it ruin me any longer. I will be open to love. It will be commonplace for me. I will hug and kiss the ones closest to me, and I will remind them every day of how much they mean to me and how much I value them. Most of all, I will remind myself. The past seven months have been a saga of self-forgiveness and acceptance, and slowly but surely I am learning to love myself. So long as I can be happy with myself, I will be okay.

I am okay.