I have type 1 diabetes which means my body doesn’t produce its own insulin. By definition, I am broken. I have a faulty pancreas, therefore I must make accommodations to live a normal life. I don’t mind diabetes most of the time, and my perspective allows me to see the many blessings that have come from my having this disease. While I know I’m exactly as I should be, in technical terms, my body is broken.
As a child, there were many times my mother told me “no” and some of those times, it was because of diabetes. There were times when I didn’t eat birthday cake while my friends did. There were afternoons when the neighborhood kids devoured Rice Krispy treats and my mom’s famous sweet tea while I ate crackers and drank water. There were times when I took my own Diet Coke to parties because I knew there wouldn’t be an option for me. Sometimes, I felt a little out of place or a little different. But I was different. I was the kid riding her bicycle with a giant purse-like satchel draped over my shoulder — and back then, it included an ice pack so it was usually soggy and dripping water.
My mother did an excellent job to make sure I had a normal childhood. I played outside with my friends and caught critters and lightening bugs. I swam in the creek and built a tree house and followed my older brother everywhere. Sometimes there were fights over lugging around my kit and being different, but I did it because the alternative meant either my mom came along or I didn’t go. Begrudgingly, I packed the bag and left my house as the only kid with a “purse.”
Now I’m an adult, and I’m still different. I have to walk out of meeting occasionally because something beeps or I need to grab a soda. On cycling expeditions, I’m usually the only one with tubing coming out of her cycling jersey. Sometimes, my CGM sites show. And I still carry a giant purse (though luckily, it’s now cuter and comes without the ice pack.)
I love the dominance of this community — our ability to come together and make powerful changes in the ways people understand diabetes. It’s a beautiful thing. I love educating others and explaining why I can, in fact, eat anything I want (except poison and cookies with poison.) But just because I can, doesn’t mean I should. If my blood sugar is high, I’m not going to eat a carb-laden meal. I’m not going to eat dessert or have a beer. It’s dangerous to pile on top of an already-high blood sugar.
I would never give myself an insulin injection with a blood sugar of 32, so why would I eat a bowl of pasta or a doughnut at 327?
I understand weakness, and I understand struggle. Believe me, will power and self-discipline are two things I struggle with daily. But when it comes to my health or the health of someone I love, I find amazing strength. I think the trend in this community is dangerous. I love joining together and advocating as a family — but families are also required to be true and faithful to one another. And sometimes, that means saying things that aren’t easy to hear.
I don’t expect this post to be very popular, and it’s not my intention to judge or point fingers. I struggle with food choices everyday, many of them stemming from emotional eating and lack of self-control. But this is our health, and we are the example to others. Yes, I can absolutely eat that cake… but that doesn’t mean I’m going to eat it right now.