Well, I haven't written anything in a while. Not from lack of inspiration, just didn't feel like it.
Nothing exciting happening. Same old stuff.
Christmas is right around the corner. As usual, I have not asked Santa for anything. I don't need anything, to be honest, except world peace, a cure for all diseases and a special place reserved for those people I cannot stand. Not much to ask for, I think. I didn't include the moon. THAT would be overdoing it. And I don't like to exaggerate.
Anyway, where was I? Right, Christmas. Yeah...I'll be glad when it's over. I'm actually excited for the New Year (not the party, but the actual year). I have big plans, big dreams, big projects.
Then the next holiday season comes around and I'll realize none of those plans, dreams, projects ever came to fruition.
And I'll be a grump again, just in time for Christmas.
Maybe this time it'll be different.
Happy Holidays. Honestly.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
For a sweet girl
Just wanted to post about a 13yr old girl who lost her battle with Type 1 Diabetes.
My heart is aching for her parents and sister. I wish I could take their pain away and tell them all will be ok. But I cannot.
May you find peace at last, sweet girl, and may you look down on your family and send them little signs that you're ok now, and give them the strength they need to make it through life.
You are missed and many hearts are mourning your departure from this world.
Rest in peace, sweet girl.
My heart is aching for her parents and sister. I wish I could take their pain away and tell them all will be ok. But I cannot.
May you find peace at last, sweet girl, and may you look down on your family and send them little signs that you're ok now, and give them the strength they need to make it through life.
You are missed and many hearts are mourning your departure from this world.
Rest in peace, sweet girl.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Consciousness
For me the most challenging psychological aspect of having a child living with T1 D is making sure *my* fears/anxieties/anger/sadness are not transferred to my kid.
I am a very spontaneous person, and you see easily when I'm ok or not, so I have had to learn to control this part of myself, for the sake of my kid's emotional safety. And also because I am a firm believer in never giving up, so I'd like my son to get that vibe from me. Never give up! No matter what. I'm stubborn, what can I say...
So, living with D has taught me 1) humility because of it's unpredictability and 2) to be conscious of how I perceive it. Because there is someone watching me - my son.
I am a very spontaneous person, and you see easily when I'm ok or not, so I have had to learn to control this part of myself, for the sake of my kid's emotional safety. And also because I am a firm believer in never giving up, so I'd like my son to get that vibe from me. Never give up! No matter what. I'm stubborn, what can I say...
So, living with D has taught me 1) humility because of it's unpredictability and 2) to be conscious of how I perceive it. Because there is someone watching me - my son.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The Never Ending Story
Although this song has nothing to with T1 D, the title pretty much sums up what it is for me.
Never ending....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwF4PPoEWD4&feature=related
Having a sad moment. Fleeting surely, but here nonetheless.
Never ending....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dwF4PPoEWD4&feature=related
Having a sad moment. Fleeting surely, but here nonetheless.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
The whisper
For a long time, I was screaming everything about T1 D. From the anger to the sadness, to wanting others to understand what it is having a child with D. Basically, to force upon the world what I wanted to say.
And that had its place. And that was ok.
Now, I don't want D to be in my face, nor in others' faces.
I want it to be like a whisper, ever-present, in my mind, that it is still there but that it's not the only thing there.
I'm ready to move on. Taking D with me. Instead of having it drag me along.
And that's ok too.
And that had its place. And that was ok.
Now, I don't want D to be in my face, nor in others' faces.
I want it to be like a whisper, ever-present, in my mind, that it is still there but that it's not the only thing there.
I'm ready to move on. Taking D with me. Instead of having it drag me along.
And that's ok too.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
New insulin pump or How I hate Holland sometimes...ok, most times
We received a new insulin pump recently.
Let me tell you. I feel like I'm back to the same day as diagnosis day. The fear of the pump, and having to learn how it works. I know how it works. I can use it. But it's the change factor, the new factor. It's making me nauseaus. Or it may be the heat. It's really hot here now. But I think it's the pump.
It takes me back to the day when the nurse came to the hospital room and told us "Here, let's put the insulin pump on your son.". Lovely. Not.
And here we are, over 3 years into this rocky D road, and an insulin pump makes me feel very small. Again.
I guess because it makes me face my biggest enemy - change. The one thing I love. And hate. I love change, but I don't like the process of change. If that makes sense. It does to me, anyway.
And above all it is the symbol that we are still in Holland. Mind you, I've been to Holland, and, besides the food, it is a lovely place. But too much Holland can be hazardous to your sanity.
So, I'm left with pressing buttons on the pump, and adjusting to it. There sure is a lot of button pressing in Holland.
That's a lot of pressure.
I want Italy sometimes. Ok...most times.
Let me tell you. I feel like I'm back to the same day as diagnosis day. The fear of the pump, and having to learn how it works. I know how it works. I can use it. But it's the change factor, the new factor. It's making me nauseaus. Or it may be the heat. It's really hot here now. But I think it's the pump.
It takes me back to the day when the nurse came to the hospital room and told us "Here, let's put the insulin pump on your son.". Lovely. Not.
And here we are, over 3 years into this rocky D road, and an insulin pump makes me feel very small. Again.
I guess because it makes me face my biggest enemy - change. The one thing I love. And hate. I love change, but I don't like the process of change. If that makes sense. It does to me, anyway.
And above all it is the symbol that we are still in Holland. Mind you, I've been to Holland, and, besides the food, it is a lovely place. But too much Holland can be hazardous to your sanity.
So, I'm left with pressing buttons on the pump, and adjusting to it. There sure is a lot of button pressing in Holland.
That's a lot of pressure.
I want Italy sometimes. Ok...most times.
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