This post was an experiment: To see what happens when I dial down the filters and let my mind wander. Depending on how I feel about these types of posts, particularly their benefit to me, I might try it again. As I’ve said, I’m trying to use this blog as a form of therapy. This is one of those necessary steps into being more open with myself and take baby steps to the fabled “better version of me.” It will take time, you have to crawl before you can run right? It would seem that despite jumping around from thought to thought, there’s a hint of consistency with what’s going around in my head. I thought about trying to make some sense out of what I typed, to give it a more formal look with some structure. But I think it is better suited as a ramble. Jumping around from thought to thought is more genuine, so I’ve left the order of the paragraphs as I originally typed them with some grammatical edits so the text is at least readable. Time for a trip down the rabbit-hole, you did take the red pill right?
I’ve never tried to use my diabetes as a crutch. Which is why when I, by one reason or another, tell someone for the first time that I am diabetic it stings a little inside when I hear “oh, I’m sorry” as a response.
I’m often reluctant to tell new people about my diabetes because I don’t want to get the odd looks or uncomfortable responses that almost always come. To be fair, a lot of these questions come out of ignorance, not the dumb ignorance, the uninformed kind. And I know they ask because they want to know more. I’m all for educating others on my experiences and my day-to-day routine. However there are some days where I’d rather avoid that topic of conversation. Not because it’s not their place to ask, but simply because I don’t feel like it.
It’s like a mock interview with the same set of questions:
- So you can’t have sugar right?
- Do you have to take shots?
- How did you find out?
- What’s it like?
I’ve made it a rather nasty habit of internalizing everything, even before my diagnosis. It’s not out of shame or embarrassment, more of an informal don’t, ask don’t tell policy. During my college years I never really talked about my diabetes with my roommate(s) beyond the first month after diagnosis or unless I was talking to a drunk person explaining why I didn’t drink. I’m sure if I had taken the time to talk to someone, they would have listened. Maybe it was out of respect that they never probed, if that was the case, then thank you. I know it is up to me to make the commitment to want to discuss something personal like diabetes. I never summoned up enough courage to talk about it then, and even today I struggle to type up each diabetes related post. The same thing goes for my co-workers. I never brought up my diabetes unless it was essential in part because they didn’t really need to know unless it was going to impact my ability to do my job, but also because I am still often avoid talking about it where ever possible. I can go on and on about violence in video games, the ESRB or the value of the DH in baseball. But discussing something this intimate, something that I’ve never really talked about at length, it’s not that I’m out of practice (even though I am), more that I’ve never tried on a consistent basis. For the most part I manage my diabetes the way I manage everything else, on my own. You can read the spotlight posts and get a general idea of how I’ve dealt with it all. Tight control, no deviation, no (outward) complaints.
It’s a weird combination of possessiveness (cause they are my emotions) and general exhaustion because it takes a great deal of focus to handle everything that sometimes I just don’t feel like talking about it.
There are plenty of days when I want to scream out in anger, but I hold back because it wont accomplish anything besides a sore throat. No matter what I do, I’m still going to have to check my blood sugar before a meal and make sure I take my Lantus overnight. Why add any additional complications like emotions when diabetes is complicated enough. It’s like I’ve rearranged my priorities and put all my focus on staying healthy and left aspects of my social life in the dust. I don’t have anyone to truly confide in. I joke at family gatherings when they (inevitably) ask if I have a girlfriend and I say no, but I have an Xbox. It’s a sad but almost dead on the truth. I haven’t even told my parents about this blog because I don’t want to jeopardize my ability to be as open and forthcoming as possible. One day I’ll invite them to contribute a spotlight post, but that day is not today, and it’s not tomorrow.
As if I need any additional reminders about how pathetic my situation is, Stephen’s wedding is in August (I’m going to be one of the groomsmen), my parents ask me who I’m taking and my response of “I don’t know” gets me a mixture of apprehension, worrying and that evil motherly eye that only a mother can give. I can feel the constant pressure of the fact that I’m one of three men responsible for the future of the family name weighing me down. And one of those three is only 4 years old, so he doesn’t even count right now. Add that pressure with the fact that I’ve never had a girlfriend and the worried looks I occasionally get from my mother are often well justified. It feels like I’m letting down more people than I can comprehend. With close friends in longstanding relationships and engagements my friends and I have started taking up informal bets guessing who will be the last one to settle down. I have that competition in the bag.
I’m so sick of hearing that my time will come. What if my time came and went? what if I missed on all of my quality opportunities to form even a casual relationship and fate has decided that I don’t deserve any more chances. Ultimately it comes down to the fact that I’m truly afraid of being alone. I’m afraid to face my fears. I’m afraid of failing. I’m afraid of taking any chances. so often i fall back to my comfort zones and easy to control routines because i’m afraid to make the changes that i so desperately need.
While I don’t externally use diabetes as a crutch, I think I sometimes use it internally to hold myself back. I sometimes use it to justify to myself the things I don’t do, the decisions I don’t make. I use it as something to hide behind, even if I would never outwardly admit it. After over 6 years with this thing, you’d think I would be able to move past using diabetes to hide my fears and apprehensions that I let plague me on a daily basis.
I don’t know what to do. And that uncertainty scares me more than anything.