aiming for grace

taking that extra hour.

 

Diabetes is a series of discomforts.  At it's best, it's forgotten for chunks of time.  The longer the better.  I've spent my many years with diabetes trying to minimize the discomforts and maximize the times when they recede.  For the longest time, most of my time with diabetes as a matter of fact, I didn't realize this was how I was living, but now I see it.  And though it's sad at it's core, the reality of it has become normal for me.  

Well a funny thing has happened to me lately.  For some reason I've been having these moments of clarity that strip the emotion from the situation and leave in it's place, an insight that I can use in making the reality of my life with diabetes better.  Like the realization about the discomforts of diabetes and the time in between.  Before it was just how I went about my life, sad or angry or tired in the uncomfortable times and blissfully unaware during the times in between.  But now that I see this pattern I realize that there's some very intersting and profound truths about it.  One's that I can use in making things better for my life overall.  Minimize the discomfort, maximize the pleasure.  I'm beginning to see that I can embrace that already existing pattern and actually mindfully pursue it, rather than just exist within it.  What I see is that in seeing the pattern, I have more ability to amplify the process.  I can actally actively minimize the discomfort, maximize the pleasure.

This insight is changing how I'm looking at my life these days.  Before I might have thought this was a selfish way to live but from where I sit with the reality of the inevitable discomforts and struggles diabetes will present, I'm getting more aggressive about seeking the pleasure in my life.  I find that I am asking myself more about what will give me pleasure in this day, this project, this weekend. Of course, I can't avoid all frustrations and struggles that are a part of everyday life but I can have some more say over many of my choices.  And where I can have say, I'm finding that I'm at least stopping for a moment and considering the options in a way I've never done before.  Minimize the discomfort, maximize the pleasure or comfort or fun.

Which translates into lot's of little decisions and many new yesses and no's where before the opposite would happen.  Yes on the 100% cotton sheets, no on that 2nd episode of law and order.  No on reading that horrifying story about something I can do nothing about and yes on that 2nd walk with the dogs.  Little stuff that amplifies the happy times, the soul feeding adventures, the moments of pure joy.  I'm starting to see the day full of choices and though I can never totally get away from the inevitable struggles and physical challenges diabetes presents, I'm finding that this way of looking at my life helps minimize the toll those difficult times take on me.  Overall, I can feel a new gentleness towards myself that lightens the sting of diabetes.  

A friend recently said to me after I'd shared I'd had a bad night with low bloodsugar, why didn't I just sleep an extra an hour.  And she was right.  Why not?  Maximize the pleasure, minimize the discomfort.  

PS. sorry about no photo on this post but typepad has "upgraded" the compose function on their system and for some unknown reason it's not letting me upload images on my G4 ibook, which I use when I'm traveling as I am right now.  Argh!  I'll post the image when I get home in a few days.  Sorry. 

Postscript: I'm home.  Bigger computer, uploaded the photograph.  Enjoy!

opportunity?

I've been thinking about what aimee mullins said about the opportunities her disabilities have presented her. On one level I recoil at the idea of seeing disability or chronic illness this way, fearing that the tired, "be positive", new age-y proselytising is just around the corner. But I don't honestly think she was just saying "look on the bright side" here either. Hm. Opportunity. At the end of the day, that hasn't been a concept I've every really considered in terms of my diabetes. Coping, trying to feel whole, aiming for grace, yes. Opportunity, not so much.

The other day, at a quiet moment, a very clear and simple question just popped into my head. If I were to consider the idea of opportunity in this experience of chronic illness and diabetes, what would that look like and mean? What is the opportunity, if any, does my diabetes offer me? The question just hung there in the air, quietly, lightly, without any judgement. It was a bit profound actually, to hold up this experience I've had, that I'm having at this very moment and turn it around to look at it from a completely different vantage point. What is the opportunity my diabetes offers me? I'd never asked myself that question. Never.

What happened next was surprising. Again, quietly, as if suspended in air, a tentative answer presented itself. If I look at my diabetes and all the hoopla and time I have to devote and details I have to focus on as my true reality, what comes up is this. Diabetes offers me the opportunity to gently, justifiably, kindly tend to my health. It offers me the chance to truly and deeply care for myself. It offers me a life path of nurturing and care, not unlike a gardener tending to their garden or a parent nurturing their beloved child. Diabetes offers me the chance to pay attention to my body, my health and ultimately, to life itself.

That's the answer that presented itself when I asked the question. There it was.

Now I'm not saying that this idea negates all the other things I feel about diabetes, the loss, the burden, the weariness. But it's interesting to add to the "hand of diabetes truths" the idea of embracing the opportunity it presents. I'm not sure I totally buy this yet but I'm certainly open to considering it. Up until now I've only seen diabetes as a thing that gets in the way of living a full life rather than a chance to profoundly celebrate living. At the very least, it's an interesting idea to hold in my heart for a while. And hey, if it brings me some peace and comfort in the process, it's certainly worth the consideration.

bring it on.

We're having our usual tease of spring here in the Northwest. It seems to happen every February. Cold mornings, followed by glorious sunny afternoons in the 50's and 60's. It will pass soon enough and we'll be back to the low, grey cloud cover and incessant drizzling we know so well. But for now it's amazing.

It was like that yesterday most of the day, with blasts of sunshine breaking through soft, diffused clouds on and off. It was a day for gardening, cleaning out overgrown beds, pruning of roses and soil amendment. It's been a long time since I've worked so hard physically and I'm feeling it this morning. Even my hands hurt. But oh, not my spirit. Everything feels right in the world when it's sunny and I've spent a day in the fresh air with birds singing and the earliest signs of spring in the garden. It doesn't matter that my blood sugar is dropping. It doesn't matter that I'm out of practice in adjusting for this kind of activity very accurately. It just doesn't matter that much.

Of course, it does matter and of course I will figure it out, all over again. But it takes time because this kind of exercise changes everything, my metabolism, my insulin needs, my energy level. After a couple of days of this kind of work, my overall insulin needs will change too. I'll need less this week than last week to maintain my overall control. But I'm not sure how much I'll actually need to do that, so it's more blood tests and more attention to what's going on. I'm eating more protein in the morning and even a bit more fat so I can augment all the exercises's impact on my blood sugar. But I don't care about that because I'm having so much fun digging in the dirt that I'll do anything to be able to keep doing that very thing. I'm up for the trade off because the pay off is so high. So bring on the blood tests and adjustments I say! Bring it all on because there are roses to be pruned and sunshine to be soaked up. Ha!

hvd.

Happy Valentines Day everyone. I hope your day is full of love and warmth and comfort.

Lovely photo from forty sixth at grace.

sunshine on a grey day.

Thank goodness for the coming of spring and bouquets of daffodils in the meantime. Things are better now, the clouds are a little higher, there are a few more sun breaks and heh, life is basically good. Thanks to everyone for their kind words and reliable support. You are sunshine and warmth on the grey days. I am full up with appreciation.

h.n.y.

Happy, healthful, peaceful, hopeful new year to you all! Here's to a fresh, new year full of connection and support! It's a wonderful thing to know I'm not alone in this strange journey. Thank you for that! Happy wishes to you all. See you next year!

can limits be possibilities?

I went to the portland art museum yesterday to see the chuck close prints: process and collaboration exhibition. Chuck Close is one of my favorite contemporary artists because of his amazing study of color as well as his exploration of the wide range of materials and production methods he uses to make his art. The exhibit features many of his prints and paintings but what was most exceptional was the fact that the various process' he uses to make his art were shown along side the finished work. Etching plates, carved wood panels, and a series of screen prints shown in stages, with each progressive screen adding yet another color, revealing how the final idea emerged over time. This exhibit highlighted Mr. Closes technical mastery, his meticulous attention to detail and unrelenting dedication to a complex process of making. I thought I knew and loved his work before, but after seeing this show, I walked away with a greater understanding and appreciation for his art. What an absolute treat!

I walked away with an appreciation for this man's art unto itself, moved by it's beauty and technical achievement. But I also walked away with a few thoughts that might apply to my life with diabetes. The fact that this amazing work is done by a person who is a paraplegic with limited use of his arms is also remarkable. To say that Mr. Close suffered an enormous set back in life, one which imposed profound physical limitations on him, is a colossal understatement to say the least. I have a hard time imagining what it must have been like. I have a hard time imagining what it took to move forward to paint again. But the fact that I can't personally imagine what it was like or what it took to start again, and the fact that my physical situation is completely different from Mr. Closes, doesn't diminish the lessons his story offers to me. It's not about comparing the level of challenge each person faces but rather, respecting and learning from the way each person approaches their journey and then applying the lessons that make sense to your own. For me, Mr. Closes particular story resonates deeply. The way that he made his art had to change to address his new physical state and as such, his art changed too. Limitations were accommodated and his art continued to be created. He made what was dealt him work, regardless.

Now I'm not going to go to that place about what a "blessing" limitations are. And I'm also not going to talk about how there are no limitations, just lack of will. Everyone has their own response to the physical limitations imposed by disease, disability or accidents. Sometimes getting up in the morning is the most courageous act a person can muster that day and sometimes that's as important to celebrate as any other type of accomplishment as far as I'm concerned. No, what I'm taking away from Mr. Closes story is more of an idea about possibility. I'm taking away the idea that maybe limits can be possibilities too. Given the choice, I'd hand in the limits of diabetes first chance I could get. But in light of the fact that there isn't a choice, I'm left with the question: what are the possibilities here? What can I learn from other peoples journey's with physical limitations and what lessons can I apply to my own?

When I step back from Mr. Closes story, I take away two key lessons. One idea is kind of romantic, the other is practical, but both are very important.

The first lesson I learned was about passion. When I look at Chuck Close's art, I see an enormous curiosity and ability for obsessive focus. There is a deep interest and passion around making and understanding and finding a kind of perfection, on his terms, for himself first. When you see the 100+ screens for a screen print series, you know that there's a journey towards something perfect and complete going on here. A narrow subject range and idea is explored over and over again, with different mediums, through different lenses. Passion, curiosity and deep focus, all feel to me like they're important sources of energy for this incredibly rich, alive and profoundly beautiful body of work.

The second lesson I learned was about collaboration and outsourcing. Less sexy than passion but just as important. Mr. Close's situation, and the art form of printmaking, requires the help and expertise of others to execute his artistic vision. The write up that accompanied the piece called Emma, spoke repeatedly about the trust he had to give to the master printer who was producing it. That it was hard for Mr. Close to let go of the control of the making of the piece. But in the end, Emma is magnificent, due in great part to that very collaboration and dialogue between the artist and the craftsperson. The actual making was outsourced, but the idea, the genius, the artistic story was Mr. Closes, made better through collaboration and trust. To bring that story to life, he had to let others help him do it. And magic and beauty was the result of that process.

So at the end of the day, I saw some wonderful art yesterday. The questions and lessons that came from yesterday however, will be carried with me for far longer. Questions like, what are the possibilities that lie within the physical limits that diabetes can present? What is the passion in my life that transcends diabetes and all the struggles it can carry? What do I need to do to accommodate the limits I feel? What things can be outsourced and who can I collaborate with to bring to life the things I am trying to build and experience in my life in spite of diabetes? And most importantly of all, what new thing can be brought into the world because of the limits I experience?

What are the possibilities?

Image via don relyea's blog.

precious reserve.

Everybody has only so much reserve to deal with the annoyances and struggles in life. As I get older, the idea of my reserve as a precious thing has become clearer to me. Especially in light of my life as a person living with diabetes. Diabetes taps on a lot of my human reserve, some days more than others, but certainly to some to degree pretty much every day. For me the choice I see isn't whether or not to deal with what diabetes presents, but rather, with what level of grace and composure I can muster in dealing with it. And that's where that wonderful, little savings account of energy and wisdom comes into play. That's when I tap on my reserve. And usually, knock on wood, I can rally, or find comfort, or just take a nap thanks to my reserve. Yes indeed, a reserve is a very precious thing.

So what's recently occured to me is that precious reserve I have, is a thing to be protected and cherished. It's an important tool in my diabetes tool box that shouldn't be frittered away on silliness or wasteful things. Like unnecessary drama or people who drain my energy or situations that just won't pay off in the long run. I know these people and situations, and I'm realizing that if I choose to be there too much, I have that much less of my reserve left to deal with the dramas and situations diabetes will most certainly present at any given moment. My reserve is not endless after all. It can be tapped out. It needs to be replenished with energy givers and comforting experiences and just plain fun. I don't know why but this feels like a pretty big revelation and game changer for me.

Now I'm not so delusional as to think that all of the everyday annoyances of life can be avoided. Life has lot's of dramas and drama queens and kings that you just have to deal with. But what I'm just beginning to understand after 21 years with diabetes, is that where I can, avoiding the people and things that unnecessarily drain my reserve is a really, really good idea. Diabetes is unrelenting and unending. My reserve is not. Focusing my energy and time on taking care of replenishing and feeding it, means I'm better equipped to cope with all that diabetes throws my way. And that's something that can only be really good in the long run.

happy thanksgiving.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! I am so thankful on this day for all the support, insight, confirmation, visibility, humor, ideas and solidarity I receive from you! I am thankful for a more bouyed, less lonely journey with this disease because of you. I am deeply thankful to you.

Have a wonderful day full of celebration, joy and health!

understanding more.

My husband just got back from a long vacation with friends. For a number of reasons I didn't join them on their adventure. Some of the reasons are just regular reasons around schedule (I needed to be at work at the time they all could get away) and preference (8 people in a condo isn't exactly my idea of fun) and energy (lot's of plane rides and lot's of time to get there). Check and check. The other reasons were more diabetes related, having to do with ability (I can't scuba dive as a diabetic on the insulin pump) and reticence (I've had bad experiences in the past with people around being seen as pushy and a drag because of the schedule and regimen I need to follow with food and exercise) and a general lack of energy around a big vacation like this one (to plan for all the details of travel and all the unknowns of a new place). And then of course, there was the ever-present fact that I didn't want my diabetes to stand in the way of his fun. I hate that idea and worry about it quite a bit. How to navigate a partnership in light of the unending presence of diabetes is at times challenging. Not insurmountable, but definitely challenging. Like vacations for example. There's more to think about in our case than when you don't have a chronic illness to deal with, that's for sure. In the end, all of this added up to us deciding that he would go and I'd stay home. On paper it made sense, but like so many things, the plan and the experience can be very different.

Throughout the 10 days my husband was away, I found myself vaguely angry and uneasy. It honestly wasn't that I was angry at him. No, it was something else, but I just couldn't put my finger on what. Which didn't make sense to me. We'd talked about it and we'd decided that this was the best solution. What was the deal then? Why was I so out of sorts?

When he returned we sat down and talked about it all. No anger, more from a healthy curiosity and mutual desire to make it better. After much discussion, what it basically boiled down to was 2 things. Hurt and fear.

In the first place, I felt left out, pure and simple. Off they went without me, doing stuff I couldn't do, checking out in a way I could never check out. They were able to not only take a vacation from the daily grind, but also a vacation from diabetes. A vacation from diabetes. Wow. The idea is almost unimaginable. It was something I want so profoundly and something I can never do. I so wanted to be a part of their group instead of mine. Yep. I felt left out in a big way.

The second thing we discovered in our discussion was that I also felt afraid. I was afraid that if I'd joined the group, in a circumstance that required them to spend 10 days with me and my diabetic life, they wouldn't have understood and consequently wouldn't like me anymore. Worse yet, I feared that my husband would decide that life was so much better without having to deal with diabetes on a day to day basis, that he too wouldn't like me anymore. Given the choice to live with diabetes or not, I could imagine a person, even one that loved me, running screaming for the door.

And it's not like my fears are unfounded. This has happened to me before. It's been a long time since then but the memory of it's devastating impact on me is clear and sharp. Until my husband and I talked about it though, I didn't realize how much it was still impacting me. I thought I had moved on, but clearly I hadn't. Even though this was a new day with new players and even though my husband wasn't this other man, I was projecting my painful experience and consequent fears on this present event. Ok, so now I understood a bit more about what was going on here.

Wow! It felt like we found a diamond of an insight. Hard but precise and in a strange way, beautiful. It's an insight that both my husband and I can work with. Diabetes and the fear of rejection. That's not one you read about in the manuals you get from the doctor. No that's one you don't expect to have to experience on top of having a disease, but unfortunately you can. Being different, being misunderstood, being seen as difficult or selfish or demanding when you're actually taking care of your disease, can have real and profound ramifications. Trying to balance the desire to fit in and the need to take care of yourself, can develop into a real reticence to try new stuff or risk joining in again. Feeling safe and understood isn't easy with this disease. It takes a lot of explaining on my part and a willingness to listen on the part of others. And this experience has taught me that sometimes even I don't know what's driving my feelings. In that case, how can I give people the clues they need if I don't see them myself?

So what we're going to do after all this, is take some time to figure out the best vacation that works well for us both. Something that will be fun and relaxing and healthful and easy. And yes, something that might stretch my comfort zone a little in terms of adventure and unknowns. We're going to talk about it more beforehand and not make assumptions without checking in with each other. With a little effort and a little exploration, we're going to go on a vacation. Sometime soon, some relaxing fun will be had by all. And I can't wait!

This experience reminded me, yet again, that living my life with this is disease is a process. A journey, as a person coping with a very difficult and complex disease, as a person dealing with all that is not understood by others, as a person so vulnerable to the vageries of this disease and in turn, the kindness of others. A kindness that is demonstrated to me every day. And a kindness that sometimes isn't demonstrated and can boil down to insensitivity and cruelty. In the end, it's a process of searching for and finding a few safe people and a place to just be. In the end, it's about learning and trusting and starting over and building and taking care. Of myself, my relationships and my health. For me, that's the best I can do.