Posts Tagged ‘learning to cope’

Motivation-Picture-Quote-Later-Never

Failure – it’s a word I’ve been using against myself for a while now. But the last few months, since my aunt died, I’ve been quietly battering myself with the word.

Charlean was more than just my aunt. She treated me like I was one of her grand kids, and spent most of my childhood taking care of me. There’d be times once I was older that we’d have a difference of opinion, but she still loved me all the same. I spent the last few years regularly going over and bringing her books to read from my collection. But the books she wanted to read the most, she never had the chance to.

Mine.

And just a week or so before she died, I was promising I’d have a decent draft to bring by for her to read. I printed my manuscript. I was almost to the day job finish line. I could do it. I could finally let her read something I had written.

Then, I failed.

I was there when she died. I was there when the nurse came to clean the body. I was there when they came to take her away. It started at 3am and felt like it went on for an eternity. It was hard. Ridiculously hard.

Before my mother and I headed home, my uncle told me to go into my aunt’s bedroom and get the books she had borrowed off of her shelf. That’s when it hit me.

When I held those books in my hand and saw the bookmark where she left off, and the books she had yet to finish, it felt like an elephant stepped on my chest. I couldn’t cry again. I couldn’t breathe. Her life had stopped so abruptly, and then the thought finally hit me. I had failed her.

I have tried to reason with myself that I didn’t really fail her. But she always asked to read something of mine, and I always let everything else be more important than getting my writing career off the ground. She believed in me more than I ever have.

The thought still lingers there. It held me up on progress during my time I spent unemployed. I was ashamed of myself, and the words just wouldn’t come when I needed to write. All I could focus on was that word. Failure. I was out of time, so why should I progress?

It’s becoming easier now to confront this feeling. I’ve started writing again. Started edits again on the manuscript I had wanted her to read. I’m working on my projects and trying to balance things out and get my life back together. It still eats at me, but it also drives me.

I count her among those I must live for now.

~Angel

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makenicethingsI could easily admit Sjogren’s Syndrome when I was diagnosed. I was scared, but I could easily say that yes, I have it. And Fibromyalgia didn’t scare or surprise me, mainly just irritates me.
The new specialist I’ve been seeing about my ovaries diagnosed me with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. It’s not something I scream from the rooftop, but I can still admit it.
But I can’t deny the one disease, of all diseases, I have dreaded being told I have. Because Thursday, it snuck up on me, in blood work I never imagined it appearing on. Diabetes.
Mind you, I have not been a diabetic. I have my blood drawn and checked a bizarre amount. I just had it checked right before my dental stuff. But there it was, plain as day, looking back at me. And when the nephrologist that had drawn the labs called me, I hoped he would say it was a fluke. But nope. It’s all mine. A new diagnosis.
And I don’t like it.
I literally fought the diagnosis, denying that it could honestly be happening. But today, I can’t deny it anymore. I started to feel horrible at work, and sure enough, when we checked my blood sugar, it was elevated. Very elevated.
The best guess anyone has as to why I have had normal blood sugars, and now not normal blood sugars, is a combination of horrible genes and my last steroid treatment being such a high dose so many times a day, that it pretty much caused a steroid induced diabetes.
Basically: The medicine to help the rest of me not be sick, woke up another sickness. (Which, I must say, is bullshit. Stupid body.)

But, why am I throwing all this out there? Because I am ashamed. And I shouldn’t be. I don’t want to be. I’m posting this because I need love and support to get me through it, and I won’t have any of that if I pretend I don’t have it.

Diabetes is a disease that, in both Type 1 and Type 2, is frequently misconstrued by the media and society in general as something to be embarrassed of. People suddenly think it gives them a license to be an asshole to you, because you obviously “did it to yourself.”

Diabetes is an autoimmune disease. So, why don’t I want to treat it like Sjogren’s, where I can just as easily say that I have Diabetes as I do with Sjogrens?

I don’t want to perpetuate this idea that I need to be ashamed.

And I am going to fight like hell to turn this mess around, not so people don’t judge me: but so that I can live this fabulous, adventurous life I have dreamed of.

 

~Angel