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!
"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."
That strikes me as one of the more profound things I've ever read. I don't have a chronic illness, but my sweetheart does, and the struggle to survive with the changes it has brought to our lives has been ongoing. Chronic.
I lost my joy somewhere in there. That sounds real new-agey, but that marvelous sense of being absolutely present, in this moment, in love with life, that's been gone for a while now. I miss it.
Your writing reminded me of the fact that I'm not going to get it back in a neatly wrapped big box delivered to my doorstep. It's going to return in increments, based on my opening doors to allow it to creep inside.
It reminds me of something I read about romance once; not romance as in in-love romance, but the romance of living life fully aware, exquisitely in tune with nature and spirit. Romance whirls away when I clutch at her skirts or confront her head-on with demands that she stay, but I can make room for romance in my life and she will come and settle in.
I think the same is true of joy, of pleasure. I get moments and the moments mount up and pretty soon I have that sense of life being a treasure, a gift I unfold every day. You said "No on reading that horrifying story about something I can do nothing about" . . . and that's where I fall down. I am so wrought up about the state of the world, of my nation, about things I can do nothing about, that I get stuck and miserable.
You don't know me, Birdie, but thank you for listening to me ramble and thank you so very much for this post. I am grateful to have found you.
Posted by: lynette | June 03, 2008 at 12:40 PM
Birdie
Thank you for another thought provoking and thoughtful post. I like the idea. We're so busy living life despite diabetes that it's easy to treat yourself a bit better to compensate for some of the burden from diabetes.
I love that photo. Where did you find all the shirts?
Bernard
Posted by: Bernard Farrell | June 04, 2008 at 08:24 AM
Thanks for all the kind responses. You guys are the bees knees!
And Bernard, I took the photo in New York City last year. It was an installation under the overhang of a restaurant entrance. Tons of white shirts hanging above your head, all of which you had to walk under just to get down the sidewalk. Oh, it was so magical!
Posted by: birdie | June 07, 2008 at 03:09 PM