I was talking to my mom, and she mentioned something the Osmond dude on American Idol said - although it is certainly not original to him. I guess he said "I have MS, it doesn't have me." She wanted me to apply that to my diabetes.
My gut response was "That's simply not true." Of COURSE it has me. AND I have it. And we are battling it out in a neverending war. The outcome is unknown, but truthfully, the odds are heavily in favor of diabetes winning.
I understand the thinking. It's better, psychologically and physically, to believe that the disease is secondary to who I am. But telling myself "I have diabetes, it doesn't have me?" Is that truly helpful? Yes? No? Maybe so? I've obviously been mulling it over. It's all about that tricky illusion of control - how much control do I really have? Quite a bit, or none at all?
Then she tried to tell me how much worse things could be, I could be in constant pain, I could have no legs, I could live in Haiti. I've told myself that, too. And you know, it's funny, but telling myself that other people's lives suck worse than mine does never seems to make me happy.
I tell myself how lucky I am to live in a country with insulin available, hell, with FOOD available. And I really do feel grateful for that. I think about all that I have been blessed with. I have my good days and my bad days, and on the good days, well, things are GOOD, and the sugars are normal, and I think "I can live with this, we can coexist, it's fine" and when the sugars are flying around for no reason that I can possibly fathom, i.e., the bad days, I get bitter and angry. Thankfully I have more good days than bad.
And so: One day at a time. Serenity prayer. (God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.) You know, I've never even touched a beer, and yet I feel like a recovering alcoholic at times.
My phone alarm just went off. Time for a Lantus shot. My diabetes is calling.