#gennawithag

[gennawithag]

Friends/family: *make me a meal*

Me: thank you! I ❤️ food 😁

Friends/family: *throw out box/can with life saving carb information*

Me:

[gennawithag]

Diabetes: the misunderstood bully

The world wants me to make you an enemy. Sometimes, I think you want that too. The problem with that though, is that to make you an enemy I must make myself a victim.

I refuse to live in a reality created for me by the masses. You are not bad, you are not scary, you do not carry the power. You are not something that ‘happened to me’ or something that attacked me.

You are a part of my story, a part of me. You remind me everyday to show up for myself. You shine a light on the things going right in my life. You remind me of the things that actually matter. You have taught me about self love and authentic power.

Sometimes, I will want to hate you. Sometimes, I will cry because of you. But in the moments I will be reminded I have a choice; become your victim or decorate my life with the blessings you’ve brought to me.

[gennawithag]

4 Traits of the ideal diabetic role model

There is no real guide book for being diagnosed with and dealing with Type 1 Diabetes. I’m not taking about the pamphlet they hand out with safe injection site locations and carb counting basics. I’m talking about the thousands of other issues that pop up in a diabetic’s daily life. I found myself hunting the internet when I was first diagnosed for some holy grail text that would deliver all the answers to the questions that kept me up at night. I quickly learned that was not a thing.

Then I thought maybe I could find someone, like a blogger or vlogger, to follow to learn from. I was thinking something along the lines of a fit-spo personality...but, like, dia-spo? I was hopeful I would find someone like me, a health-conscious and type-A personality, who has been through all the highs and lows diabetes has to offer and shares it with use diabetic newbs. In my pursuit, I came across some seriously inspirational people. If diabetes has given me anything, its the instant membership to a community of the strongest, kindest, most amazing group of people. Maybe its because there are relatively few of us, maybe its because diabetes isn’t sexy the way a flat stomach is, or maybe because it’s just straight up difficult to deal with anyway, but I have not been successful in my hunt.

So, I decided to create that person...in my head... because, well, why not? I asked myself...what does the ideal diabetic look like? What can I change to become more like that person? Here’s what I came up with...

Trait #1

The first trait my perfect role model has is that they care, passionately. They care about themselves, they care about their numbers, they care about the community of type 1 diabetics and people suffering from other chronic illnesses.

Trait #2

The second trait my ideal role model has is that they are confident. They are confident in their diabetic-ness, the sensors and pumps they wear and in the way they communicate their specific needs. 

Trait #3

The perfect dia-spo knows that no matter how much energy, money, time, and pinches they trade, sometimes their numbers won’t play along. This results in the physical symptoms that come with highs and lows but often times worse, the feeling of guilt and frustration.The third trait is that they are gentle with themselves - they know there will be bad days, and they are okay with sometimes not being okay. 

Trait #4

The final trait my diabetic mentor would have is health as one of their top priorities. This extends beyond healthy BG numbers to a challenging exercise routine to keep their body and mind sharp and a diet that works to help their BG numbers and keeps them nourished. They understand and value how much a healthy body can prevent diabetes complications and other health problems. 

[gennawithag]

Other people internally: phone, wallet, keys, good!

Me internally: phone, wallet, keys, insulin pen, cooling case? cooling case., glucose meter, test strips, lancets (lol jk), needle tips, shit - test strip container only has one left, CGM receiver, good!

[gennawithag]

5.2.2018

We have been together for nine months now.

I will never forget the moment we were officially introduced, how dry and scratchy your name sounded when it came out of the from the Doctor’s mouth. I will never forget that wicked smile that you, my previously invisible invader, held as you danced to center stage. Somehow, somewhere along the way, your inky body quietly seeped into mine and poisoned it. You made me hungry. You made me thirsty. You shrunk my bladder. You embarrassed me. You exhausted me. You claimed my body as yours…all before I even knew your name.

Do you remember the first time we went out? It was to Ruby Tuesdays four days after I was diagnosed, the first time I left my house since. I checked five times to make sure I had my glucometer and insulin before I left the house. I wore grey sneakers, running leggings, and a dark green sweatshirt. Even today I still feel bad for our waitress. She had no idea why, when she asked if we were ready to order, tears immediately poured from eyes. I was terrified of guessing how much insulin to treat myself with, of making my body even more sick than I’ve already allowed, of taking it too soon and passing out, of the girl across the room watching me pinch my belly fat so the syringe would pinch less, and worst of all not feeling safe in my own hands anymore.

We have had many firsts, you and I, but the honeymoon phase is over. You have stripped me of my independence, relationships, thousands of dollars, my sense of security, and many nights of sleep for fear of my numbers falling too low and not waking up in the morning. I have stabbed myself 8,640 times to try to control you. I have spent endless hours in four new doctor’s offices to keep myself safe from you. My blood, my hormones, my appetite, my weight, my skin, my hair, my fingers, and even my feet have altered and adjusted in an effort to appease you. I know you more intimately than I had ever wished to.

My devoted demon, after nine months I hope you have become familiar with me too.  I may not know how many more hours you will leave me feeling sad or lonely or scared, but you must know by now how patient I am. I may not know the twists and turns you have planned for me, but you must know by now how willing I am to bend. I may not know how many high readings it will take for the “someday down the road” to be a bad one, but you must know by now how willing I am to fight. I may not have seen the worst of you, but I promise that when I do, you will see the best of me.