A Reason to Celebrate
It was a simple question, digging a bit into my past. Did anything significant in your life, anything traumatic, happen in November? Did you lose a child? Is that when your parents divorced?
No. Nothing. I was married in October, I had my second son in October. It should be a beautiful time, leaves changing, brilliant colors in the northeast each year. Milestones of life to celebrate. The calm before the holiday and winter storm. No, I said, November is not significant to me at all.
And then, like the proverbial strike of lightning, yes.
I was diagnosed with Type One Diabetes 16 years ago in November, right around Thanksgiving.
The tears flowed. Reassurance, yes, that was in fact a life-changing moment. Forever, changed in one diagnosis. Fear of health, life, death. The question if I'll be able to have a family, live a long and healthy life, what can I eat. What can't I eat. How do I inject myself and check my blood? How often? Will I ever sleep normally again? Will I gain weight back? Feel energetic? What the fuck just happened?
And I took that diagnosis as a challenge to prove Type One would not change me or my path in life. I am surviving, alive, learning how to manage a weird-ass disease. I have a family and so far so good. As I tredged forward through adulting, with a serious health complication which is life-threatening and essentially a fun-sucker, I kept living my life and having adventures, and fun as often as possible. But every year right around the beginning of the holiday season, I find myself cranky, less tethered, more moody and depressed.
It wasn't until I took my head out of the sand on the therapist's couch and recognized that it was a major blow to my life and I didn't care for it like a wound. So the wound never healed. It was suggested that I take November and turn it into a time to celebrate the accomplishments, like being alive and holding a family together everyday. It's Diabetes awareness month afterall-they made the month just for you!
When someone dies, people have ways of celebrating that person's life. Maybe through rituals, through altars, through parties. It was time for me to celebrate the life I had, and mourn the life I lost that day of diagnosis in November. So after some thought, I planned what I wanted, a celebration that was important to me and my family. At first it was a family trip to NYC. But money and time caught up to us. So instead it was a simple night out on the town in Ithaca NY. At a restaurant that was fancier than any we had been to as a young family. We made reservations. I spent the day shopping and getting my nails done. My husband and I get out for dinner on occasion but it is often an afterthought, when my mom can watch the kids. This night, the very last in November 2018, was intentional, and thought out, and everyone was going to dress up. It was a school night-which made it a more special.
The weather was good. We started the night at the library, which in my family is actually a treat. We headed to dinner, and had an amazingly tasty, and expensive meal-beyond what we typically indulge in. We toasted Diabetes and life and health, and love. It wasn't perfect, my daughter was tired, my husband smacked his lips like we were at a backyard barbecue, but it was magical and uplifting, and perfect in its own way. There was a hot chocolate bar as we left and we strolled the Commons, stumbling on little stores and connecting with the open-hearted Ithaca people that seem to gather in that place.
I was glowing from the inside. Taking ownership of something that really haunted me for years. And looking it right in the eye, and celebrating in our own style. We will do this ritual every year, for as long as I live if I have anything to do with it.
To celebrate something that seems dreadful, and hard, and difficult on a daily basis seems silly, but I can tell you it was a significant way to improve my outlook on my future, and my disease as it has shaped my and my family's life.
After talking with my mom about this wonderful realization, she told me of a date that haunts her for her own reasons. And now I know that is a day worth planning something special for her.
We all have things that can bring us down if we think too much about it. But if we take our intentions in a different direction-even for just a day, it will no doubt have a beautiful and lasting impact.
Here's to November and all the reasons to celebrate.
No. Nothing. I was married in October, I had my second son in October. It should be a beautiful time, leaves changing, brilliant colors in the northeast each year. Milestones of life to celebrate. The calm before the holiday and winter storm. No, I said, November is not significant to me at all.
And then, like the proverbial strike of lightning, yes.
I was diagnosed with Type One Diabetes 16 years ago in November, right around Thanksgiving.
The tears flowed. Reassurance, yes, that was in fact a life-changing moment. Forever, changed in one diagnosis. Fear of health, life, death. The question if I'll be able to have a family, live a long and healthy life, what can I eat. What can't I eat. How do I inject myself and check my blood? How often? Will I ever sleep normally again? Will I gain weight back? Feel energetic? What the fuck just happened?
And I took that diagnosis as a challenge to prove Type One would not change me or my path in life. I am surviving, alive, learning how to manage a weird-ass disease. I have a family and so far so good. As I tredged forward through adulting, with a serious health complication which is life-threatening and essentially a fun-sucker, I kept living my life and having adventures, and fun as often as possible. But every year right around the beginning of the holiday season, I find myself cranky, less tethered, more moody and depressed.
It wasn't until I took my head out of the sand on the therapist's couch and recognized that it was a major blow to my life and I didn't care for it like a wound. So the wound never healed. It was suggested that I take November and turn it into a time to celebrate the accomplishments, like being alive and holding a family together everyday. It's Diabetes awareness month afterall-they made the month just for you!
When someone dies, people have ways of celebrating that person's life. Maybe through rituals, through altars, through parties. It was time for me to celebrate the life I had, and mourn the life I lost that day of diagnosis in November. So after some thought, I planned what I wanted, a celebration that was important to me and my family. At first it was a family trip to NYC. But money and time caught up to us. So instead it was a simple night out on the town in Ithaca NY. At a restaurant that was fancier than any we had been to as a young family. We made reservations. I spent the day shopping and getting my nails done. My husband and I get out for dinner on occasion but it is often an afterthought, when my mom can watch the kids. This night, the very last in November 2018, was intentional, and thought out, and everyone was going to dress up. It was a school night-which made it a more special.
The weather was good. We started the night at the library, which in my family is actually a treat. We headed to dinner, and had an amazingly tasty, and expensive meal-beyond what we typically indulge in. We toasted Diabetes and life and health, and love. It wasn't perfect, my daughter was tired, my husband smacked his lips like we were at a backyard barbecue, but it was magical and uplifting, and perfect in its own way. There was a hot chocolate bar as we left and we strolled the Commons, stumbling on little stores and connecting with the open-hearted Ithaca people that seem to gather in that place.
I was glowing from the inside. Taking ownership of something that really haunted me for years. And looking it right in the eye, and celebrating in our own style. We will do this ritual every year, for as long as I live if I have anything to do with it.
To celebrate something that seems dreadful, and hard, and difficult on a daily basis seems silly, but I can tell you it was a significant way to improve my outlook on my future, and my disease as it has shaped my and my family's life.
After talking with my mom about this wonderful realization, she told me of a date that haunts her for her own reasons. And now I know that is a day worth planning something special for her.
We all have things that can bring us down if we think too much about it. But if we take our intentions in a different direction-even for just a day, it will no doubt have a beautiful and lasting impact.
Here's to November and all the reasons to celebrate.
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