Such is the way of the internet and groups and tribes.
I’m finding that I need to focus on some things outside of this digital realm that I seem to inhabit. I need to be out in the real world to deal with meat problems. I need to ensure that the body I’m riding in lasts for a good bit longer than expected. In short, I need to refocus my work and handle my Diabetes.
I don’t know what that’s going to do to my fledgling career as an independent writer. I don’t know what my refocus is going to do at all. I have hopes though. I have hopes that I will find a way to keep going. I have hopes that I will become healthier in body, mind, and spirit. I have hopes that I will not be dead in 10 years.
Diabetes is a disease of attrition. It’s a slow death. It kills a kidney, then perhaps an eye. Maybe it’ll take a toe, then the foot, and so on.
Mentally, I’m ill prepared to keep a fight like that going on. Physically, I’ve been letting it happen for far too long. It’s been six and a half years since I was diagnosed. All that’s happened is I’ve been exposed to a litany of medications and have gained about 25 pounds(ish). I’ve dieted, and half-heartedly exercised. I’ve started, stopped, started, and stopped again for a variety of reasons.
The important factor here is that it is my body and my disease. Many are like me, but this one is mine.
What I mean to say is that Diabetes affects people differently. Each of us has different symptomologies and different physiologies. Each of us can do different things to battle the disease with different results. The one thing that is the same across the board is that we have to put our health first.
This is not always easy. My current battle is about the self and convincing myself that I am worth it.
The scotoma I’m having is the step where the exercise is not a chore – it’s a choice. It’s a decision to live versus sitting in decay (literally). It has to become part of the overall plan to establish that I am worth the work I’m putting in at the gym.
It’s not always going to be tight pants and uncomfortable shirts. It’s not always going to be seven pills in the morning, three at dinner, and a nighttime shot in the gut. It’s not always going to be the finger twitches and tingling. It’s not always going to be the overwhelming urge to eat.
Nothing is permanent. Darkness comes and then the light of dawn follows. The afternoon wanes and then twilight falls. It is cyclic.
The fact of the matter is that the disease I’m fighting comes with baggage. There are mental issues that destroy confidence. There are chemical issues that cause hunger. There are neurological issues that cause pain. The wavelengths of each of these vary.
Some days are better than others. Some days I can see the ego for what it is. I can see it crying over there in the corner about strapping on the sneakers and getting to the gym. Some days the whiney bitch wins. I can hear the pleas and mews for something to binge on. I can feel the rumbling in my gut. Well, what I think is rumbling, anyway. Mostly it’s boredom.
It’s now that I need to focus on, not the past failures or future successes. What can I do at this moment to ensure my success? What is it that needs to change in this instant? What is in my sphere of control in my immediate surroundings?
I know all of this sounds too familiar and formulaic. That’s because it is. The issues I’ve been facing is that I let myself get off script. I succumb to the soft and lumpy ego instead of understanding that in 15 minutes, that crybaby will probably forget what it wanted.
So, yeah, reinstating the fact that I am Diabetic first – all else has to become secondary.
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