In addition to this, I had been diagnosed with gluten intolerance and type 2 diabetes. For a long, long time, I have been frightened of eating, drinking, and even leaving my house because I know I will not adhere to the routines I need to stick to in order to overcome my physical ailments.
Then, life decided to throw me a huge curve ball filled with lemons.
These recent events made me realize that, no matter what I do, I will die sooner rather than later. Till then, I can lead a miserable life or I can live my life empowered by forethought and knowledge, tempered with joy and good humor. As a teenager, I didn’t want to live a life of quiet desperation. I’ve reached out to that younger me and agreed with her. We are now part of a 12-step (self-run) program to help us with self-empowerment and recovery.
Most well-meaning people don’t like hearing the news that I have opted to use supplements and work on my psychological shizz in order to get a better handle on my diabetic (and aging) body. It brings out the most ardent mother hens in them. They mean well, of course. I know that. It makes them feel like they are caring for me. But, really, it just makes me bristle. I live in my body, not my doctors, not my friends, not even my spouse or my children. Besides, diabetes and gluten sensitivity are not contagious, so the public health issue is null and void. For some reason, this small, obvious fact (i.e., this is my body and I do what I want) becomes easier to ignore when I talk about my diet and exercise regimen (or complete lack there of). It’s not that I don’t appreciate being cared for. I just don’t appreciate being scolded by people who are in the outer rims of my circles of influence.
So let me say this now–I take full, absolute responsibility for my body, my health, and my understanding of my diseases, including the responsibility of solving the problems they pose (i.e., health care acquisition, prescriptions drugs, and financial burdens). In other words, please trust me with my own health. I want to be good and responsible. But feeling infantilized and being treated as if I don’t know my own body and my own disease(s) just add to my burden. Now, if you feel so strongly, you can be nice and buy my test strips, lances, and prescription drugs. Oh, and I’m due for a new glucometer and these frequent doctor visits aren’t cheap. No? How dare I? Then, I would appreciate more silence. Thank you.
To my good, close friends and fellow diabetes sufferers: This does not apply to you. I hope you know who you are. If you don’t, let’s talk.