Good Cries

Killing the Sweet Tooth: Diabetes Diagnosis

So the last few weeks have been radio silence over here. My grand plans of updating regularly got overshadowed by “OMGWTFBBQ” overwhelmed nonsense. Getting back on track should happen soon, if slowly.

Both sides of my family have long, detailed histories of both diabetes and heart disease. I recognized the signals in my body and went to the doctor. Sho’ nuff, I have full-blown type-2 diabetes. I thought I was prepared for the news, as I pretty much expected it to be the case, but I was surprised by the flood of emotions that came next. I felt shame around my Paula-Dean-Like cooking style, my penchant for chocolate and pretending I’m a contestant on cupcake wars, and my overall laziness when it came to exercise. It’s not like I didn’t know my family gets this disease, and it’s not like I didn’t know how to be healthier. I guess on some level I had a “fuck it” mentality – if I was going to get it eventually anyway, might as well live¬† it up in the meantime.

Well, the meantime is over. But life isn’t.

Photo by Diabeautiful used under Creative Commons License

I’ve been really blessed with an amazing husband who, upon hearing the news from the doctor with me, immediately gave up all soda – his favorite beverage, of which we drink drank copious amounts. He’s been to every doctor’s appointment with me, and every early morning diabetes education class. He’s asked thoughtful questions, learned to read labels for carbohydrates and serving sizes, and kept me walking, even when I don’t wanna. He’s been a rock, and we’ve made some big changes and some little ones, but one of the biggest things has been getting over the guilt and shame and realizing life’s not terribly different, it’s just more informed.

It’s not because I cook with butter (though my heart might like me to use a bit more olive oil instead) and it’s not because I love me some Reese’s Peanut Butter cups. It’s not because I love my recliner more than a jog, and it’s not anything I did that caused this diagnosis. I’ve got to adjust, but I’ve also got a ton of support. Here’s to that “in sickness, and in health” clause, and hubby’s amazing attempts to make me laugh through it all. I love pasta, and chocolate, and carbs, but I love you more.

Have you ever had to let someone help you take better care of yourself than you would on your own?

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