aiming for grace

indescribable blue.

I recently started the new category what helps here at aiming for grace. Many wonderful readers added their insights around what helps them in living with diabetes, which I greatly appreciate. I'm always blown away by the compassion, smartness and insight I gain from the diabetes community. Plus, the poetry. The poetry and beauty in peoples lives and particular viewpoint. Like this morning, for example. I was walking Ruppert and Flora just as the sun was rising. It was cold and a bit windy, but oh, it was so beautiful. I looked up in the sky and I realized it was the lovely blue that minnesota nice mentioned in her recent comment. "When the sky is still that beautiful, indescribable blue". The indescribable blue. I love that. And now I'm looking for it, early in the morning, noticing it just a little bit more. And guess what? It really does help. So thank-you kathy, and everyone else who shared their thoughts and insights and stories.

And thanks to just guessing for this great photo of morning sky, which I am borrowing, because of course, I didn't have a camera with me to capture a photo of the indescribable blue sky...

200 calories.

As most of you know, I like pictures. They tell a lot. Often more than words, in my mind. You know, they're universal, straightforward, understandable. So imagine my delight when I found this great site that shows in picture form, what 200 calories looks like in a variety of foods. I guess I kind of get it after my fun-filled carb counting sessions with my nutritionist and the rubber food, but still, I think it's groovy to see it this way. Or rather, to be reminded, this way. I know it's not pictures of carb portions, but I still find it useful. Or maybe it's just to me, being kind of a picture geek.

what helps?

I was thinking this morning, that my last couple of posts could perhaps be seen as a bit "pollyanna". Look on the bright side, and all that. If they've come across that way, that's not how I meant them. I've been feeling a bit, well, in a word, vulnerable, lately. I'm sure it has to do with the post surgical, healing process, coupled with ongoing shoulder stuff, and unending diabetes, not to mention that fact that I took a silly fall during the recent snowstorm (we don't get how to act in snow in my neck of the woods). There is something about the body feeling weak or injured or in pain, that contributes to this feeling of vulnerability. I know in my head that I'm ok, but somewhere deeper in the animal part of my brain and body, I feel wary. Once all the surgery stuff heals, and I get ahead of the shoulder strengthening (and the pain that accompanies that), I still have diabetes. And that's where the last couple of posts come in. Trying to figure out how to make the best of that fact. Doing what I can, where I can.

So in the spirit of that, I'm going to add a new category called what helps. It's one thing to say I want more joy. It's another to actively go out and do it. So I'm going to start noticing what helps me more, so that on those harder days, I have a list to remind me of what might help.

But I'm only one person and though I'll come up with some good ideas, it suddently occured to me that there are lot's of smart, creative and generous people in the OC who have some proven ideas too. So, in the spirit of the collective wisdom of the crowd, if you feel so inclined sometime, would you let me know what helps you in dealing with your diabetes, in minimizing the negative impact, in finding more joy? No pressure here, just if a thought occurs and you feel like sharing it, I'd love to hear. At the end of the day, I know I'll learn something new. I also know that in the process of focusing on what helps, I'll feel stronger, lighter and a lot less vulnerable. And I know that will help a lot.

tit for tat.

I've been thinking a lot about some of the harder emotions surrounding diabetes lately. Anger, frustration, sadness, boredom, resignation. They're all important and they're all real. At least as real as diabetes is. I also keep thinking about how diabetes just is for me now. 20 years of having it, makes it as real as breathing or eating to me. I keep thinking about how I can look at having it differently, in the effort to minimize the anger and sadness, which can hurt so much at times. Is there a way to do that? Because though I feel those feelings (more at certain times, less at others) I can't help but think that since diabetes is as basic as breathing to me now, it's a little like getting angry at walking instead of being able to fly, or aging when I still feel young inside, or winter because it's cold. Nature is as nature does. And my nature happens to include diabetes. For me, it's neutral at it's best, at times more unpleasant and demanding. It requires that I do stuff to stay healthy, stuff that most people don't have to do. And undeniably, it's not fair. But I have wondered lately, that if I could focus less on the injustice and more on the "normalness" of it in the context of my life, would I feel less burdened in the process? Because for me, that's the goal. Diabetes is hard enough, so how can I minimize it's impact beyond the amount that's non-negotiable? Would reducing the emotion around what's happening, make it hurt less? Or instead of reducing the emotion, refocusing that energy on more feeding, healing, happy stuff. More joy, demanding of beauty in my life, seeking out more play and delight to offset the space diabetes takes up in my life. I don't mean ignoring the anger or sadness, but rather let it be a gauge to actively augment against. Quid pro quo. Tit for tat.

I really don't know the answer. I really don't know if it's even possible. But it's been on my mind lately. It is, at the very least, an intriguing idea to consider. A noble goal to shoot for, if impossible to always actually reach. Even if I can't achieve it all the time, it's bound to reduce some of the pain. And that sounds like a great trade off to me.

a little slice of heaven.

It's important to get a better picture of the situation. It helps me. It helps me to see diabetes, through pictures or words or metaphors. For whatever reason, once I have a better view, I can move forward. Because that's what this exercise is all about. Moving to a better place where possible. I don't have a choice about having diabetes, so what other parts of my life do I have choices about?

My recent post piece of the pie helped me to see diabetes in a way that really makes sense to me. The day is finite, diabetes is a constant that gets bigger sometimes, and is always a slice, regardless. True. And it's helpful to me in understanding why I feel overwhelmed sometimes, or resentful, or just plain tired. Good to know and see. I know that I don't have control over the presence of diabetes, but I do have control over other pieces of the pie. If diabetes is always there, I think that I need to carve out another slice and make it permenant too. A little slice of heaven. The anti-diabetes piece. The friend of diabetes. The ying to it's yang.

So that's my new year's resolution. This year is going to be about exploring what my little slice of heaven is all about. I know some of the things that populate it. Like Flora and Ruppert my dogs. Pearl, my cat. Gardening. My husband and friends. Those things I know. But still, I want to get a little more active about this idea. Broaden the appeture. Try some new stuff. I'm dedicated to my diabetes, so I should be dedicated to this slice of pie just as much. It's not extra. It's a given, just like diabetes. More joy. More play. More fun. You know, my own little slice of heaven.

Now that picture makes a little more sense to me.

it wouldn't hurt.

Wouldn't it be cool if our diabetes stuff was packaged like these skincare products by somme institute, instead of the scary medical way they are now? Ok, maybe not exactly like this per ce, but at least designed in a way that felt like it was part of regular life rather than something outside of it. I know it wouldn't matter to some people, but it would to me. I think it would make me feel a bit better about having to use all the products I have to use to take care of myself. I think it might make me feel a bit prettier and maybe a little less chronically ill. I don't know that for sure, but I'm pretty certain it wouldn't hurt.

a picture is worth a thousand words.

I love this photo from beth at tusconpics from our diabetes made visible pool. What makes this a diabetes photo? Can you tell? Look on the left hand, bottom corner of the yellow paper. See the blood smudge? There it is. The detail that makes it diabetic!

It's an example of an idea I've had about diabetes for a long time. That diabetes is a disease is about blood. Blood sugars, blood tests, blood smudges. A number of pictures in the pool are of stuff that's been marked by bloody fingers, post blood test, like here and here. It's funny because it's so normal to me but now I see it through other people's images and I realize how iconic it is to diabetes. Another diabetes pattern revealed through pictures instead of words. I don't know why, but it comforts me. Actually, when I think about it for a second, I do know why it comforts me. Images like this show me visually, that I'm not alone. They show me that other people have blood smudges in their lives too. Little red dots that connect us all.

And for that I'm so very, very grateful.

piece of the pie.

I love thinking about things this way. This piece of art by greg colson visually diagrams a person's day. How much time is spent driving or fixing his hair or tending to the children, as if it's some scientific study. I love this sort of stuff. It makes me laugh but it also helps me picture the inside of a life from the outside.

If I were to make a pie chart of my daily life, one wedge would be diabetes care. The everyday tending to all the little details, the blood tests, the carb counting, the bolusing, the changing of my sets, the reordering of supplies, the inevitable lows or highs. That wedge would always start at a certain size regardless of whether things are going well or not. And then some days the wedge would be bigger, like when my diabetes is out of control or I'm sick or dealing with a change. On those days the wedge would just grow, making other stuff's wedge get smaller to accomodate it. No questions asked. Just move over reading time or free time or exercise or whatever. Move over because the diabetes wedge says so. Period.

When I picture diabetes as a piece of my life pie chart, I realize that at it's best, diabetes is neutral. It stays in it's assigned place. I'd prefer that it didn't have a wedge at all, but it does, so staying in it's place is the best I can hope for. Neutral. Managable. As minimal as possible. There is nothing delightful or fabulous about diabetes, so it's really the best when it's quietly not in your face. I think that's a significant realization. It makes me see that diabetes sets a tone for my life. It doesn't wholly define it, but it certainly factors in. On the good days it's neutral. On the other days, not so much. Complications, related physical or medical things, everyday, random control challenges, all take diabetes from neutral to noisy. And that fact, contributes to a tone underneath all that I do. Diabetes is always there and I'm always checking to see what size of the pie it's going to be today, hoping for neutrality but also preparing for some more noise.

comparing apples to oranges.

Don't even get me started about the new apple iPhone (above). I know I can't compare apples to oranges (pardon the pun) but I'm going to anyway. What I'm comparing here is intent. Look at all the care and thought and user consideration that's gone into this product by a company that continually bests themselves. They don't rest on their laurels. They don't stop at one iteration. They innovate. They progress. They make their product better for their consumers. In a word, they care. And in the process, they make mountains of money and change the economic game, because people want progress and they want their needs met. Because, guess what, people will pay for that.

I've ranted about this before, and I'll rant again, I'm sure. I find it strange and frustrating and at times, infuriating, that we have to settle for product that looks and feels like this (below). There are continuing improvements inside the box and that's great. We want that first and foremost. But I don't think it's a lot to ask that some improvements be made to the outside of it as well. Design matters. User interface matters. Living with a designed object 24/7 should make it matter more. I can't imagine that the people at apple say, great, we got the inside working better, so let's just not worry about the outside, let's just go with last years model. I'd love to see what Jonathan Ives would come up with if he designed a pump. My guess is, it wouldn't be this circa 80's pager box. My guess is that it would look and work a whole lot differently. I can't imagine that reinventing the phone was the easiest task to undertake. The fact that it is possible to do such a thing, makes me really wish that someone would undertake the design challenge of reinventing the insulin pump. Life is good, but it can always be better.

unanswerable questions.

There are certain limits that we all have to navigate. Fundamental limits. Like time. There is only so much time in a day. Period. Or the fact that the brain can only manage so much information. Too much, it gets overloaded. Limits that just are. Nothing much we can do about it.

When I think about these limits and then I think about diabetes, I'm often struck with the question about how much diabetes has changed me? Based on all the time and mindspace it takes to do it well. If time and mindspace are a limited commodity, I've had to devote a portion of that precious commodity, to just getting to square one. To be healthy and vibrant and alive (as do lot's of people who have diabetes or other chronic illness or challenges or issues). I'm just saying that it's a fact. There is only so much time and mindspace to go around and for me, quite a bit of it has been focused on diabetes.

I've gotten better at balancing the amount of time I spend doing it all. Hell, after 20 years I'd hope to shout I'd be better at it. I've done a lot of work at finding the right balance of responsible focus on diabetes and living life to the fullest. It's a tight wire act sometimes, but I'm OK at it overall. Some of this dance also has to do with my personality, layered over with diabetes. I'm a worrier, a planner, a strategist by nature. I think back from the result I want and then I put into place what is necessary to achieve that goal. Type A yes, but it often works well. And sometimes not so much. But I'm even getting better at letting go at those times, not beating myself up, not getting frightened that I'm doing some irreparable harm to myself. I'm getting better at the dance between my personality and diabetes.

And then I wonder about how much all this effort, to do it right, to find the right balance, to learn the new dances, has changed me. How much of all this work made me angrier or sadder or more controlling or worried or distracted or anxious or unadventurous than I would have been without it? Am I the person I am and diabetes is an adjunct, or am I unextricably intertwined with the disease, the me I am, profoundly shaped by it, and it an integral part of me? I've never wanted to believe that diabetes "causes" mood swings but then again, I am more irritable when I'm at 55. And for the people on the outside, who know me well and are used to my diabetes, do they understand the cause and effect of having this disease? Year in and year out they just see me. Me and then maybe sometimes the diabetes. Do they see me as the worrier and not see why? Or am I a worrier and diabetes is just something I worry about? I don't know. I guess there is no way to know. I guess the answer really doesn't matter in the end. I just do the best I can, given all the circumstances and limits and personal characteristics.

But still, I wonder about it sometimes.