Fear Factor
As the snow melts today, sun shines down on my typing fingers, my eyes finally squinting in the bright sun. This is true spring on it's way in, bringing with it the earth's slow churning, buds breaking out, snowdrops blooming in a day's time, and all of the things that once slept peacefully this winter are starting to stretch, yawn and awaken.
This is a lovely time of year. We've suffered through many cold, grey days, wind howling. But we learned to cozy up and enjoy the warmth from within. Heap on more blankets, read more, watch more movies, have second servings of soups, and hot drinks.
The winter is a strange time for diabetics, as is summer-you know those extreme temp changes. Our bodies work differently. And my body, the ever-interesting science experiment, responds so differently to the cold. I learned this winter that because my body is working to keep itself warm on cold days, I'm more likely to suffer from low blood sugars when hiking or skiing. I need to do these things to keep myself from losing my mind on the sun-less days here in Upstate NY, but also I struggle with the fear that someone will find me in a snowbank, too cold, or low to move on. And that is a scary thing to think about with 3 children in tow-as a mother who loves to keep her children active year-round.
This winter I faced my fear as a diabetic in an important way. I suppose for a long time I have worked at surpressing any fears I may have as a diabetic mother, and spent most of my energy living as positively, healthy, in control as possible. Not really letting anyone, from my children to my husband know the anxiety that I face as a diabetic. I don't want to be a burden, I don't want them to feel sorry for me, or worry, and I certainly don't want them to see that having this disease has actually impacted my life-and stopped me from doing certain things. I'm the kind of person who on occasion drives the wrong way in a parking lot, just to go against the rules. I show up late for lots of things like meetings and appointments, mostly because I'm spending an extra minute doing something I enjoy, before following rules, being a good citizen, and doing the right thing. But diabetes doesn't give a lot of room for breaking the rules. If I eat too many carbs, and don't take enough insulin, I feel sick. If my sugars go too high, I'm grumpy, If I don't check my sugars enough, I drop low at weird moments.
This is life, this is what can drive a sane woman crazy. This is living with diabetes.
I get that gut-in-my-toes feeling when I realize I have one test-strip left for the day-and the rest are at home. Or when I feel the uneasy sense of a low-coming on in the middle of the woods. Or when I get stuck in traffic. Or on a plane.
So over the past few years, I have stopped pushing my body to exercise, I have limited my travel dreams, I have done things that limit me instead of help me to feel free. This is one of my greatest fears as a parent. I really value the notion of raising my children to feel that nothing is impossible. Dreams, hopes, ideas, jobs, places to live, anything can be yours if you work hard and make it happen. And there's nothing out there that can stop you...except fear.
In order to realize my own issues with fear, I had to feel fear in the mother way. My son Wesley found out last summer that he is massively allergic to bees. If seeing your son come close to anaphylactic shock, and learning that bees can bring him to his knees in seconds doesn't make you fearful check your pulse.
It hit our whole family hard, and made us do all kinds of silly things like swing knives at flying bees at a picnic, or stay inside when the sun made its rare appearances in our skies.
I talked about Wesley's weekly allergy shots, known as bee desensitization, with anyone who would listen, but it was in a "can you believe we are doing this? are we doing the right thing? I still break out in sweats every Tuesday in the office" kind of way. The process has been cathartic, and we are facing the fear of bee venom in his body weekly now-but really wrapping my brain around raising my son as a fearless warrior, and now failing miserably was wrecking me.
And then I had a moment of realization through a good conversation with a good friend. Something deeper is making you afraid of the bees and not letting you get through this she told me. Wesley will be okay..we carry an Epipen everywhere, he's getting his shots and building his body's chances at fighting such wild reactions. What is it that you are afraid of?
It's that I was losing my footing as a strong mom, as a Type 1 Diabetic who lives each day with hope and strength and knowledge that we will survive this and survive it well-living a full, beautiful life... believing that nothing is impossible. I let fears take over some of my decisions and I felt horrible about it. I started to fear the spring, the summer the fall..and so did Wes.
And that night, after that conversation I wasn't afraid anymore. I studied it hard. I cried to my husband. I woke up the next morning ready for this thaw happening as I type. Ready for the slow and steady waking up of the earth, ready for the birds and the bees.
And as it goes with letting go, it is time to move forward, get moving, and keep on living the good life.
This is a lovely time of year. We've suffered through many cold, grey days, wind howling. But we learned to cozy up and enjoy the warmth from within. Heap on more blankets, read more, watch more movies, have second servings of soups, and hot drinks.
The winter is a strange time for diabetics, as is summer-you know those extreme temp changes. Our bodies work differently. And my body, the ever-interesting science experiment, responds so differently to the cold. I learned this winter that because my body is working to keep itself warm on cold days, I'm more likely to suffer from low blood sugars when hiking or skiing. I need to do these things to keep myself from losing my mind on the sun-less days here in Upstate NY, but also I struggle with the fear that someone will find me in a snowbank, too cold, or low to move on. And that is a scary thing to think about with 3 children in tow-as a mother who loves to keep her children active year-round.
This winter I faced my fear as a diabetic in an important way. I suppose for a long time I have worked at surpressing any fears I may have as a diabetic mother, and spent most of my energy living as positively, healthy, in control as possible. Not really letting anyone, from my children to my husband know the anxiety that I face as a diabetic. I don't want to be a burden, I don't want them to feel sorry for me, or worry, and I certainly don't want them to see that having this disease has actually impacted my life-and stopped me from doing certain things. I'm the kind of person who on occasion drives the wrong way in a parking lot, just to go against the rules. I show up late for lots of things like meetings and appointments, mostly because I'm spending an extra minute doing something I enjoy, before following rules, being a good citizen, and doing the right thing. But diabetes doesn't give a lot of room for breaking the rules. If I eat too many carbs, and don't take enough insulin, I feel sick. If my sugars go too high, I'm grumpy, If I don't check my sugars enough, I drop low at weird moments.
This is life, this is what can drive a sane woman crazy. This is living with diabetes.
I get that gut-in-my-toes feeling when I realize I have one test-strip left for the day-and the rest are at home. Or when I feel the uneasy sense of a low-coming on in the middle of the woods. Or when I get stuck in traffic. Or on a plane.
So over the past few years, I have stopped pushing my body to exercise, I have limited my travel dreams, I have done things that limit me instead of help me to feel free. This is one of my greatest fears as a parent. I really value the notion of raising my children to feel that nothing is impossible. Dreams, hopes, ideas, jobs, places to live, anything can be yours if you work hard and make it happen. And there's nothing out there that can stop you...except fear.
In order to realize my own issues with fear, I had to feel fear in the mother way. My son Wesley found out last summer that he is massively allergic to bees. If seeing your son come close to anaphylactic shock, and learning that bees can bring him to his knees in seconds doesn't make you fearful check your pulse.
It hit our whole family hard, and made us do all kinds of silly things like swing knives at flying bees at a picnic, or stay inside when the sun made its rare appearances in our skies.
I talked about Wesley's weekly allergy shots, known as bee desensitization, with anyone who would listen, but it was in a "can you believe we are doing this? are we doing the right thing? I still break out in sweats every Tuesday in the office" kind of way. The process has been cathartic, and we are facing the fear of bee venom in his body weekly now-but really wrapping my brain around raising my son as a fearless warrior, and now failing miserably was wrecking me.
And then I had a moment of realization through a good conversation with a good friend. Something deeper is making you afraid of the bees and not letting you get through this she told me. Wesley will be okay..we carry an Epipen everywhere, he's getting his shots and building his body's chances at fighting such wild reactions. What is it that you are afraid of?
It's that I was losing my footing as a strong mom, as a Type 1 Diabetic who lives each day with hope and strength and knowledge that we will survive this and survive it well-living a full, beautiful life... believing that nothing is impossible. I let fears take over some of my decisions and I felt horrible about it. I started to fear the spring, the summer the fall..and so did Wes.
And that night, after that conversation I wasn't afraid anymore. I studied it hard. I cried to my husband. I woke up the next morning ready for this thaw happening as I type. Ready for the slow and steady waking up of the earth, ready for the birds and the bees.
And as it goes with letting go, it is time to move forward, get moving, and keep on living the good life.
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