Note: This is a repost of a blog I originally wrote over at TuDiabetes in July 2009
Recently I’ve been thinking…
A dangerous pastime.
Always thought Beauty and the Beast was one of the better Disney films…
Anyway, a lot of the recent blogs and discussions that I’ve been reading around the D blog-sphere have gotten me thinking a bit more about my situation and, in particular, the way I feel about diabetes.
I’ve had people ask me about how I feel about having diabetes before and I usually just give kind of an odd look. I’ve had it so long, that while I get frustrated with it some times, I also get frustrated that I let myself get sunburned a few weeks ago. Like the color of my eyes, it just is.
Then I started thinking about what I remembered as a child finding out I had diabetes. About the only strong memory I have from being diagnosed at age 7, was that I had a disease. I would have this disease the rest of my life and that it would probably kill me by the time I was 25. It was “the sugar diabetes” and it was all bad.
I doubt that was a conscious decision, but I think I stopped dreaming about my future goals somewhere in all that.
I used to say I was going to be a fireman or an astronaut when I was a kid, as so many do. But after I got D, I have no memories of ever having that type of dream again. Even as I became an adult, I never really reached for anything for myself. I seemed to be living in the present only. Having children changed that some because, as any parent, I want my children to have a better life than I’ve had. I’ve always worked hard to give them a good life and have been rewarded for that work, but I never really had a goal of being in management, it just happened. But besides that, I really have no interest or even desire to really dream for something past the day-to-day we all go thru. Maybe, I have a subconscious dream to see grandchildren or just to outlive those folks who told me that all those years ago.
Today, 20 years after I was supposed to be dead, I find a reason to get out of bed every day (mostly because I don’t want to be jobless, living under a bridge in a box). But everyday, I fight a battle. At best, that battle will end in a draw. But, realistically, I’ll probably lose. Yet, it goes on, I’ll be fighting for another 20 years, I simply do it. But I think I’ve lost the ability to have those dreams. I’m sure my depression has alot to do with this as well, and in fact, my depression may largely stem from being told those things. I don’t know.
I’m not even sure why I’m writing this or if I’ll even publish it. I guess it’s therapeutic, maybe I’m just too pragmatic. Life seems to be a long series of compromises. Maybe my compromise for diabetes was that I’d stop worrying about my dreams so I can worry about today.
Don’t make that compromise.
Today’s snarky comment: I’d love to offer some moral support, but my morals are… well… somewhat questionable