aiming for grace

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.

what to lead with?

What do I lead with?

When I woke up this morning, having been up a couple of times with a very high blood sugar during the night, I thought about this question. I've had nights like last night a thousand times before. Sometimes, if it's days in a row like it can be, I feel defeated and tired. Other times, when it's a result of something I've done, like eat the wrong food or thrown caution to the wind as we all do on occasion, I just feel resigned to the result. And still other times, when I have no clue as to why it's happened, I just feel stupid or confused.

Whatever the reason, and really whatever the feeling the next day, I am coming to realize that I always have a choice as to what I lead with. After 20 + years of doing this dance, it's hard to remember that sometimes. Do I lead with diabetes or do I just get on with the day? Sometimes the diabetes aspect of my life crowds out this truth and I forget I have a choice. Other times, I do think it makes sense to lead with diabetes because it is burdensome and fatiguing and pretending it isn't so, exacts it's own kind of toll. But most times, like this morning, I think it's best to lead with the promise of the day ahead. I think today I'll focus on all the possibilities and try to quiet the noise of diabetes where I can. I'll deal with the technical issues at hand, like I always have to do. And then I'll move on quickly. Yes, I'm tired this morning and yes, I'm bummed that I didn't figure it out last night, but heh, today's a new day and I'm sick of the tyranny of diabetes. As much as I can today, I'm silencing it's nagging noise and moving on. And really, in the end, isn't that the goal of living well with this disease? Isn't it about attending to it's demands and then silencing it as much as possible, so we can get on with the living of the rest of our lives?

And anyway, today is a holiday, so luckily there can be a luxurious nap in my future. Happy days.

head in the clouds.

I love this image of sky from ace jet 170, because it reminds me of so many helpful metaphors. The benefits of "looking up". The importance of "blue sky" thinking. The idea that it's normal for things to constantly change, like "clouds in the sky". These are all useful adages for me lately in terms of my diabetes. It's been a bit better over the last week, a little more reliable, though still wonky at times too. I'm really trying to take the long view where I can and ride the inevitable waves, rather than sweat each particular up or down. To be frank, it's actually helping. The one constant of my disease is that it ebbs and flows, easy some days, not so much on others. Focusing on the long view seems to be helping me be gentler on myself when it's not going so well. It's also helping me be smart when I want to tempt fate (think cookies or cake or pie here) after it's been good for a couple of days. So I'm encouraging myself to spend a little more time "looking up", focusing on the long view and celebrating the beauty of the sky. No harm in that if it makes things a bit better after all, right?

3 fun things list.

Ah, the goal of more fun. I realize that it's easy to say, but not always easy to figure out how to achieve. Especially with diabetes in the mix. But still it's a fine goal to have. And a smart one to pursue.

In that spirit, I recently stumbled on a great post at happy silly that I keep thinking about. Just like noticing what helps, maybe getting into the habit of noticing what's fun, making a top 3 fun things list (a variation on the happy silly happy list) every once in a while, will help me focus on fun more. Knowing what's fun, having it top of mind, makes it a lot easier to lean towards it and maybe even attract a bit more of it my way. I know it sounds woo woo, but heh, it's worth a shot right?

So here goes, my top 3 fun list for today: *gardening on a cool summer morning, *going to the farmer's market for fresh raspberries, *watching a new miss marple mystery with my sweet husband and two silly dogs.

Yep, sounds fun to me! Can't wait to do them all. If anyone feels like sharing, I'd love to hear what's your list of 3 fun things today.

a goal for life with diabetes.

I've been thinking lately, that one of my goals in life with diabetes is to balance the necessity of preparedness with the pursuit of some fun.

Top photo from reference library, bottom photo found long ago but the actual source unfortunately, is long lost (sorry).

team pizza.

I had an appointment with the nutritionist at my diabetes clinic recently. It was so great. I always learn something new about food and how to deal with all it's implications to my diabetes. I also learn stuff about myself in the process of learning about food and my diabetes. Like the fact that over time, and in the effort to keep my life and diabetes regimen simple, I gradually narrow the choices I think I have. A few bad experiences with pizza for example, and over time pizza comes off my list of foods I want to eat. Which on one hand makes logical sense. There is no sense in continually going back for more of the same bad result. What's interesting to me though is how I decide that no pizza is the way to do that. After all, I wear the pump and it has the ability to do dual wave bolus', a feature designed for foods like pizza. That's another way of dealing with the pizza issue, but it hasn't been one I've even wanted to try, because it's yet another thing to have to try and experiment with and master. Another thing, on it's face, means more work, more highs and lows in the process, in a word, no fun. So my decision tree shuts off that option too and I'm back to no pizza for birdie. And so it's been years since I've had pizza for a meal. I've nibbled here and tasted there, but no crispy, thin crusted, cheesy delights as the main course for me. No, no, no.

Well, what was great about this visit to the nutritionist, was we talked about the process I go through to get to the pizza no. The reason's behind saying no, without judgement or recrimination. My wonderful nurse empathized deeply with me as a person navigating diabetes. Her empathy allowed me to see the choices I was making in a clear and supportive light. My husband was also there which helped further, because he's always trying to make my life better with diabetes. A professional and a loving partner, team members in my journey with diabetes. How amazing is that? What was great was we looked at the pizza story as a team, and we problem solved together. My nutritionist explained the biomechanics of how fat effects absorbtion. Check, on the science. Now the project. We came up with this idea that over the next few weeks, we'd just solve the pizza dilemma. Not all food dilemma's. Not dual wave bolus' and square bolus'. Nope we'd just solve pizza. We came up with a plan. I'd first eat a slice of pizza, test every hour after the meal for the next few hours. I'd just collect the data. Then I'd meet with my team to assess the data. We'd then walk through the dual wave process together. Then I'd try that with another pizza slice. Report back. It became a kind of a fun project. A team project. A small and managable diabetes project. With the end result being that I'd get to have a little bit of pizza back in my life. Fun. Not work. What fun.

Ok, so I know this sounds kind of remedial to all the folks out there that are wizards at their pump. It also may sound kind of lame that I've limited myself so much. I know that this isn't rocket science and I even know I'm smart enough to figure this out without the need of advice from a nutritionist or my husband. I know that I'm the one that's limited myself and that in the end, I'm the one that's going to need to do some work here. But frankly, that's not the point. The point is that I get filled up with diabetes management and technology interface and data collection. I'm not by nature a scientist or an engineer. My heart doesn't race with excitement when I think about yet another experiment where my body is the test animal. My personality, my tenure as a diabetic, my preferences don't predispose me to experimentation in this zone. So at the end of the day, I need some help in moving beyond my predisposition, and that's where my crack team comes in. By doing this simple small thing with them, I get beyond my habit, my decision tree, my belief of no pizza for me and end up with a reservation at ken's artisan pizza. Me, my team, my dual wave bolus and hopefully, the thinnest, crispiest, cheesiest pizza they make as my main course. It's a small thing but I think it's actually a big thing, because in the end, a little more pizza in my life would be nice. So now I'm pretty excited about this small adventure where before I was leary. It will be fun, not to mention the fact that my husband wants to have birdie's team pizza tee's made for the project. A great team, pizza and silly teeshirts. Boy am I the luckiest girl ever!

a lovely time.

Even though my diabetes has been mildly wonky lately, somehow it doesn't seem to matter so much because it's summer here, all warm and breezy and lush. At times like these, the noise of diabetes just seems to fade a bit. I've just finished a week of vacation full of small adventures, of making art and hanging with the dogs and friends and my sweet husband (not necessarily in that order). This photo, found here, captures exactly how I feel today. Light, bouyant and reminded of the wonderment of the world. It's a lovely time.