Pump It Up?

This summer marks my 15 year anniversary with diabetes. We met when I was so young. I don't know where the time has gone! In fact, I can barely remember a life without it. Diabetes has been like a spouse and constant companion. Unfortunately, it's one I never liked much and can't divorce.

For years, I pretended like I wasn't that diabetic. I was reluctant to tell people I was diabetic at all. After all, I was managed with minimal meds and in pretty good control. But, as I age and my metabolism slowly abandons me, my diabetes becomes more demanding of my attention.

Now I am grappling with the question of whether or not to use an insulin pump. The friends I have who use the pump generally love it. I know it would help me achieve super tight control, which would be beneficial to my long-term health.

The downside would be its omnipresence. I would have something attached to me most of the time. Injection sites can get gross or irritated. But my biggest hesitation stems from what having the pump means. It feels like admitting defeat. It's admitting that I am that diabetic, and it isn't going to get better. In fact, it will just continue to get worse as my barely functioning pancreas ceases to function at all.

It's a scary thought and hard to confront. Despite living with diabetes for almost half my life, I have never truly accepted my life sentence. I know I can't live in denial forever. I know I need to be proactive about my health. I just wish that I could keep pretending a little longer.

I can't, and the pump is an admission to myself that this is real; this is permanent.

I should say that I am rather pessimistic about a cure. I think it's too profitable to treat. Call me a cynic, but that's a topic for another post.

Happy anniversary, diabetes. I hope I grow old, even if it is with you. But I want you to understand that I hate you and always will.

Adrift In Adult Friendships

In my adulthood, I find myself feeling as though I am karmically paying for my teenage bullshit. See, when I was in junior high or high school, I would get sick of certain friends. They were nice people, and they did nothing to deserve my abandonment or occasional scorn. But, I was just over them for one reason or another. I grew out of giving people the heave ho and have come to cherish the people in my life. But karma is a bitch.

Since college, I have had several friends "break up" with me. One was super direct - she sent me a hand-written letter and everything! At the time, I was really upset. Now, I have come to see the humor in that particular ending. Others have been more subtle and just stop accepting my invitations to do stuff or even responding to my emails all together. Sure, as life progresses, people drift apart. Sometimes it's about geographic distance. Other times it is about being in a different place in life. But sometimes it seems there is no reason. It's like my friend just got sick of me and decided to drift away, and I feel like I am frantically paddling to keep up with them - to keep them in my life. I even sometimes ask if I did something - if I unknowingly caused a rift. I have yet to have anyone respond in the affirmative to that question. Which means if it is my fault, they have no interest in letting me repair it. They are just done.

The loss feels like a death - and it is; it is the death of a relationship. I go through the five phases of grief:

Denial - they are just busy. They aren't blowing me off. We are still close. I just need to be understanding of everything that is going on with their life right now. They'll get in touch when things are less hectic.

Anger - Why the hell aren't they getting in touch? Screw them! If you don't want to be my friend, it's your loss. Good luck finding someone to put up with all your bullshit and neuroses!

Bargaining - Okay, if they email today, all will be forgiven. I should reach out to let them know the door is still open (despite leaving the ball in their court multiple times). If I show them I still care, maybe I can get them to care about me.

Depression - No one likes me. What is wrong with me? Why don't I have any friends? The only reason anyone hangs out with me is because they like my husband. God, what if he leaves me? Then I will have no one. It's only a matter of time before I have more cats than friends and think sweat pants are acceptable clothes for work and running errands.

Acceptance - This person may have decided they don't need my friendship, but I still have lots of amazing and supportive people in my life.

If I am being honest though, acceptance rarely comes. While I recognize the friendships I have and feel fortunate to have great people in my life (and I really do), the loss is always there. It haunts me. Running into a friend that cut me loose is painful. We make awkward small talk, and I still hope they will throw me the bone of "we should get together and catch up." But that never happens.

I can't change what I did when I was younger. I don't know if my abandonment still bugs any of my former friends. I can only try to do better as an adult.