Today’s prompt is to write down a secret that isn’t really a secret about your condition…
I have a secret…but I’m sure that anyone who knows me very well…or has ready my blog at all…knows that it’s not really a secret…however it’s something I don’t really like to admit.
I AM NOT PERFECT AND NEITHER IS MY DIABETES!
People look at me and they don’t see a sick person. I am healthy overall. I can do most anything that any other person my age can do. I graduated high school, went to college, got a job, got married, pay my bills, had 2 kids, am pregnant again…I look pretty okay from the outside. It’s what you can’t see that’s so much scarier. You can’t always see when my blood sugar is high or low…well, until I start acting like crazy Shannon…I guess she’s noticeable. You can’t see the damage a 250 is doing to my blood vessels or my optic nerve. My feet are intact and my heart is pumping strong. I look like I know what I’m doing and managing quite well…and for the most part that is true…but not entirely. There are days that I eat and guess how many carbs are in my food. There are days when my guesses are right on and I’m happy, and days when I’m all over the place because I had no idea how many carbs were really in that Indian buffet that my husband so loves. Some of my life is a guessing game, a balancing act, and an odd juggling contest. I wait for the first ball to drop. Is the next eye appointment going to be the one where they tell me damage of being a diabetic for over half of my life is starting to catch up to me? Is the next OB appointment going to be the one where they tell me my control hasn’t been good enough and the baby is in distress or has gained a little too much weight? Is my blood pressure going to start climbing or am I going to start to have tingly feet?
It’s funny because people look at me and they don’t see a sick person. They see a person who copes and deals and usually knows what she’s doing and talking about. People think that I handle it all really well and keep smiling and counting and doing what I do. People think my family is fortunate that I’m the one that was diagnosed because I am a perfectionist and I am going to always do my best to take care of myself…but they’re wrong. I’m not perfect and neither is my diabetes. It has its good days and its bad days…but perfection is only something I could dream of. It’s a hard battle and one I often wish I didn’t have to fight. I am a perfectionist, but I’m not perfect and I know that there are things to come and obstacles to overcome. I wonder how I will handle those defeats if and when they happen. Perfectionism is a gift…and a curse.
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