New year, and I think I have too many “cheating days”

I’ve never really been one for New Years resolutions.  I’m of the opinion that they’re dumb, and leave you feeling bad about yourself once you break them.  I think, to change yourself, you have to reach that point where you just can’t handle the way things are any more, and that’s the only thing left to try. 

I’ve never really thought of myself as having an addictive personality.  I’m beginning to think I have a problem though.  I love food.  Not just food, but sugar especially.  Three months ago, I would be eating fast food almost every day.  Chocolate and gummy bears?  Yes, please!! Then things got serious.  Veeerrryyy slow healing times, people that care about me getting frustrated, and most of all, I was getting disgusted with myself.

I eat vegetables now.  Many, many vegetables.  I even make stir fry with asparagus.  I have no idea how to make stir fry.  Or what in the world a person is supposed to do with asparagus.  I started watching what I eat religiously.  I look at every single label of every single thing I put in my mouth.  How much of this can I eat before I fill the carbs of my meal plan?  Will I feel full after?  If not, back on the shelf it goes.  New favorite weapon?  Wasa crackers with cheese (low fat, of course).  Three of them are only 15 g of carbs!  It’s very exciting.  The only drawback is it resembles chewing on a crusty piece of cardboard.  Minor detail really.

Last month, I decided to have a “cheating day”.  It’s like a vacation from diabetes. I’ll eat chocolate, a burger, whatever.  I won’t freak out if my blood sugar goes over 12 mmol.  I’ll be diabetic free for a day.  I thought it was a solid plan, but lately, I’ve been justifying eating things I shouldn’t by trying to rationalize it away with, “Oh, I’m having a cheating day.” Wait, what??  I just had one yesterday! 

“Do or do not.  There is no try.”  Obviously, Yoda didn’t have diabetes.

Sugar skulls

image

Party time!

image

Not my favorite…

image

Carving a broken heart

image

Uphill both ways

It’s been a little while since I’ve written anything on here.  I haven’t drawn anything in weeks, and haven’t had much to say.

I’m continuing to struggle with my diabetes, and today has been the most frustrating day so far, I think.  I saw the nurse and dietician last week, and I’ve begun the ever so challenging carb counting.  Now, if I’m completely honest, I have no idea what I’m doing with it.  I can fake it with the best of them, apparently, but I’m not seeing the results that I’m sure the nurse was hoping for.  My blood sugars are still ranging from 3.0 mmol to 20.0 mmol.  Not good.

There’s a formula, it seems.  A wondrous work of mathematics to figure out how much insulin my body needs to process the carbohydrates that I eat.  It looks just lovely on paper.  The actual application of it though, has been a little bit harder.  I’ve been eating almost the exact same thing for over a week now.  Every day.  I have cereal for breakfast with milk.  If I do 6 units of insulin, my blood sugar spikes.  If I do 7 units, I ended up hypoglycemic.  I woke up with solid blood sugar levels.  I can’t even explain how infuriating it is that I ate an identical breakfast and had a varying range of 11 mmols. 

I’ll keep working at it….for now.  Commitment has never been my strong point. 

Just breathe

image

Demons

image

So this is grief

 

My Opapa was a man of strength.  Courage. Faith.  He was drawn to nature, and spent much of his life dedicated to Alberta’s Junior Forest Wardens, and was fondly known by many people as simply Mr. Tree.  I vaguely knew this, but it shames me to say, what I’ve learned about him has been learned through second hand means.  My brother wrote a biography about his memories and experiences from WWII about five years ago.  The flood of comments and memories on his facebook page have been overwhelming.  He touched so many lives.

My dad, especially through this summer, tried to push me to spend more time with his parents.  I made excuses, and he would tell me, “They’re not going to be around forever, you know.” I would awkwardly mumble a response, and look for my nearest exit from the situation.  In hindsight, I was selfish.  I’ve never been close to my family, and for whatever reason, I’ve felt particularly alone when I’m surrounded by them.  I don’t think it’s anything specific that triggers that feeling, but it’s there nonetheless.  I’ve been trying to become closer with my family, to open up and not be as withdrawn.

I’m very thankful that before Opapa passed away that I had the opportunity to tell him that I loved him. I hope he heard me. I’m thankful that even though our family was brought together through grief, I got to hug my Omi, kiss her cheek and tell her that I loved her.  I’m thankful that in the hospital, we cried together as a family, we held each other as a family, and we celebrated Opapa’s life as a family.  Life may teach you many lessons, but this time, it’s been death that taught me a very harsh yet needed lesson.

I drew this picture for Opapa’s memorial service in a couple weeks. “But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Isaiah 40:31

This moment…words fail…

I watched, feeling like I was invading an intimate moment, yet not able to look away. 

Every single moment of their history was etched in each line of her face in that moment.  Every laugh, every tear shed. I saw every obstacle they overcame together, every heartbreak they had shared.  I witnessed the joy, so intense and overwhelming there’s nothing I could say to open even a peephole for you to understand the joy. Fierce loyalty, hope, relief, peace. And behind it all, the driving force for everything I saw, was love.  Something so much more than an emotion, for emotions are fickle, but solid as a brick foundation; aged, but by no means weakened.  I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

I have been blessed, and taken so much for granted.