Today is the second anniversary of my father’s suicide. I’ve spent the last year thinking I would go to Texas to see some of my family, be in my hometown, and visit the grave as I had done last year, but when Jason and I looked at our finances a couple of weeks ago, we decided it wasn’t something we could swing. Since my father and I didn’t have a good relationship, being in my hometown is the only thing that gives me any sense of connection to him, although it’s a tenuous connection at best. Still, I can’t put to rest the longing to have a connection to him, presumably because I am no more distant to him now than I was during the last few years of his life. The only difference is that the potential for reconciliation died when he put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

So today, I’m here at home in Philadelphia, and most everything that makes me feel connected to him is there in Texas, so all I have is his stuff piled in my basement and the memories of that day forward. I think about how this time two years ago, I was going about my merry business while my family was trying to figure out what to do, including how to contact me because I hadn’t been in contact with any of them for several years prior to my father’s suicide. I think about the message from my cousin to call my aunt, the conversation with my aunt. “Your father took his own life.” The sheer incomprehensibility of it. I cried. I called my mom. Jason bought plane tickets, and the next day we went to Texas.

I remember the first night we were there, I abruptly awoke in the middle of the night, scared and out of breath after feeling his presence and seeing a bright white light. I have no idea if it was something outside of me or just my troubled unconscious. The funeral home was able to make him presentable for the casket, and I remember he didn’t look like himself. I remember standing at the graveside for the service, and the short stacked heels of my pumps slowly sinking into the soft, moist soil.

I’ve come to see that there is no true healing from this. Residual pain lingers. There are things that comfort me, like acknowledgement from those who were close to him that my presence in their lives is of value because it’s more than I ever got from him. There are things that remind me of him, like aviation, onion rings, and my own reflection. There are things that remind me of his death, like any reference to suicide or talk of guns. Then are the things that remind me of his absence from my life, both before and after his death, which are harder to label because they aren’t things so much as feelings or a sense of who I am. His suicide often feels unreal to me, but then I consider that he was often unreal to me even in life, and the reality is that I will only ever know him as much as I can the contents of the boxes of his stuff in my basement, and he will never know me, which sadly, was his choice.

This post is in response to the following prompt provided by the WEGO Health National Health Blog Posting Month:

5 things that changed my life. For better? For worse? List 5 things that changed your life as a patient, caregiver, or Health Activist and how.

Eating Disorder & Depression: On the surface, I suppose this looks like one of the things that changed my life for the worse, and in many respects, I’d say that’s true. I didn’t do my health and my body any favors, and I destroyed, maimed, or temporarily soured more than a few relationships along the way because I couldn’t figure out how to manage my mental health. As far as the depression goes, I manage it as proactively as I can, and that seems to keep it from being a disruption to my life. As for the eating disorder, I overcame it, and I’m a better, stronger person for it. I have tremendous faith in my ability to overcome the seemingly impossible, and I have an appreciation for health, both physical and mental, that only those who’ve been down a dark road that has neither of those things, can know.

Insulin Pump: I was on injections for 26 years. I started with a single injection of NPH and Regular before eventually going to two injections a day, to three, to more, to Humulin N and R, to Lantus and R. Finally, in 2004, after having had the pump suggested to me by endocrinologists for several years, I decided to go for it because I thought it could help me better manage my diabetes. I admit the adjustment was a little difficult because pump or no pump, my management left a lot to be desired, but eventually I got to the point where the diabetes was coming together, and I loved my pump. Sometimes it’s a pain to be attached, and site changes are always a chore, but overall, my BG management is better than it’s ever been, and I love the flexibility it affords. I have never regretted the choice to pump insulin.

Carb Counting: When I was a kid, the exchange diet was standard diabetes management protocol, and I was comfortable with it. In my mid 20’s I was introduced at carb counting, but that was a disaster. It made me obsess over what I was eating and how many carbs were in everything, which during a few short months of being eating disorder-free, became my total undoing. Seven years later when I decided I was ready for an insulin pump because I wanted to get my diabetes on the right track, it was time for me to revisit carb counting. I struggled for some time with it, partly because I was still struggling with my eating issues, but eventually I conquered my self-destructive behavior, and found a way to make carb counting work for me. Today, I have a pretty healthy relationship with food considering diabetes makes that nearly impossible. I’ve learned to eat the things I like, both the healthy food and the food that has questionable nutritional value, because I believe in balance, moderation, and not depriving myself of the foods I enjoy. It’s important that I feel like nothing is off-limits, and carb counting offers that for me. It’s a delicate equilibrium, but I’ve achieved it, which has made a world of difference in my physical health and my mental health. Considering how diabetes makes food so complicated, I don’t think I could ask for much more than that.

The DOC: The DOC, before I knew that’s what it was even called, helped save me from myself. Once upon a time, before blogging, TuDiabetes, or Diabetes Daily, I experimented with diabetes groups and listservs, but never really got much from it. In 2004 when I was working with at-risk kids, I made a myspace account to snoop on the activity of the kids on my caseload. I started poking around for myself though, and discovered a discussion group for people with diabetes to connect. When I started using that group, I was still struggling with my eating disorder, but I found I wanted to help people with diabetes more than I wanted to be the person with diabetes who needed help. So I did what I needed to do to defeat my demons in order to be the person I wanted to be: blogger, health activist, and art therapist for people with diabetes. The DOC has been good to me, and I live to return the favor whenever I have the opportunity.

Jason: I wish I could say I got my shit together because I wanted to be healthy for me. I like to think I was at least headed in that direction, but whether or not that’s how things would have gone if I hadn’t met Jason is anyone’s guess. While we were dating, I started to get back on track, but it was a lot of two steps forward, one step back. Once we were married, it became clear that my long held expectations of dying young were not an inevitable fact as I’d always assumed, but a self-fulfilling prophecy that I was going to make happen if I didn’t pull my head out of my ass. Jason and I spent a lot of time talking about my health, my eating disorder, and our future, and he said a lot of things that made me reframe my perspective. I started to understand that by taking care of myself, I was taking care of both of us and nurturing our marriage. To this day, six years free and clear of an eating disorder, I still feel like my motives for getting on track with my diabetes weren’t as pure and noble as I wish they had been. However, I also see that what counts most is that I got on track, I’ve stayed on track, and most importantly, I plan to stick around as long as I can because I love Jason, I love being married to him, and I want to be there for him just like he’s been there for me, ’til death do us part, which is many years from now if I have any say in the matter.

I’m late to post, but I wanted to wish everyone a Happy Blue Friday! If you’re a DOC’er, you probably know about Blue Fridays in November. I know I have some family and friends that occasionally read though, and you might not know about Blue Fridays, an initiative started by my friend Cherise of Diabetes Social Media Advocacy, encouraging people to wear blue on Fridays in November and World Diabetes Day, November 14th, to celebrate Diabetes Awareness Month and World Diabetes Day, and help raise awareness for diabetes.

My ensemble today consisted of the following: blue cargo pants, my blue ‘O is for Outrage’ t-shirt from the International Diabetes Federation, a navy blue cardigan, blue striped socks, two blue rubber JDRF ‘CURE diabetes’ bracelets, blue sparkly earrings and bracelet (the same ones I wore when Jason and I got married in Vegas), a couple of blue hair extensions, the blue hair dye I told you about a few days ago, two blue WDD circle pins, and some sparkly blue nail polish.

I wasn’t satisified with teh idea of wearing shoes that weren’t blue though, so Jason and I went to the mall in search of blue sneakers last night. I wasn’t too pleased with the shades of blue I found though. There were some Converse sneakers in a true blue hue, but I couldn’t justify spending almost $50 on sneakers that I likely wouldn’t wear beyond November. Today I ran over to DSW on the off chance they’d have something more to my liking, and while I didn’t expect to find anything, I was delighted to find navy blue Converse sneakers which were more my style than those bright blue ones I’d found the night before. Once I had those, my ensemble was complete.

While I was able to snap these photos, including the one with my feet in the air to show the sky was also in the Blue Friday spirit, I didn’t get a proper full body photo because in the early evening, I had a nasty low blood sugar, and sweated through my t-shirt and cardigan. Luckily, there are more Blue Fridays to come though, so I’ll have more chances for more photos. If you didn’t get all blued up, you too still have several chances to don your bluest apparel, and tell the world you or someone you love has diabetes! Just blue it!

WEGO Health is hosting National Health Blog Posting Month. Since I’ve gotten sorely burned out on blogging by participating in NaBloPoMo in the past, signing up for NHBPM is against my better judgment, but I do lots of things against my better judgment so at least I’m staying true to character. I think it’s unlikely I’ll be able to complete the blog prompt for each day this month since I have a zillion other things going on in November – the World Diabetes Day Postcard Exchange, several school assignments including a 15-page paper that’s due next week, and a vacation this month – but I’m going to give it a whirl, and see what happens.

November 1st Prompt: Say you’re writing a book about your life, community, condition, or Health Activism. Come up with 5 working titles and a quick book jacket synopsis.

So these are my titles. The accompanying short descriptions aren’t exactly book jacket synopses, but they’re my initial thoughts on what each of these titles might contain.

The Art of Living with Diabetes
This would be a coffee table art book, edited by me. In addition to lots of full-color gorgeous photography of beautifully expressive diabetes art, it would include some creative writing, and maybe some short essays. I would write a nice introduction about the healing value of arts-based activities for coping with diabetes because I’m predictable like that.

Creating a Life with Diabetes
This self-help book would address practical issues around the emotional and relational aspects of diabetes, like dealing with the diabetes police (and other people who need to MTOFB), developing a balanced relationship with food, and finding support, with a touch of snark for humor, as well as some art directives to reinforce concepts.

Glitter, Paint & Sidewalk Chalk: The New Tools for Diabetes Management
This would be a workbook of sorts, heavy on the art directives, and it would include some creative writing and journaling exercises too. The emphasis would be on nurturing your emotional well-being and creative spirit as a means of coping with and thus better managing diabetes.

Testing the Limits: Into the Emotional Abyss of Diabetes and Back
This juicy poolside read would be purely autobiographical about all the crap – depression, suicide attempt, insulin omission, bulimia, family conflict, diabetes complications, mental health treatment, and all my fuck-ups along the way – but I would also tell how I managed to turn things around because not every story has a happy ending, but mine has a happy to-be-continued.

Diagnosis, Despair, Determination, Destiny: A Diabetes Story
This would be autobiographical also, but maybe a little less salacious and dark, with a greater emphasis on what I learned from the past, how I came to be where I am now, and all the things that are great about finding meaning in my struggles with diabetes, presented in such a way that others could draw inspirationand overcome their struggles.

Today is November 1st, the first day of Diabetes Awareness Month, and two weeks until World Diabetes Day on November 14th. Today is also T1Day, a JDRF initiative to raise awareness about type 1 diabetes. They want everyone to give the finger to type 1 diabetes, a funny, albeit sassy message, but one I can endorse since I’m chock full of inappropriateness. Jason generously served as my photographer, and snapped this picture of me giving type 1 the finger (disclosure: JDRF contacted me, and sent me the foam finger).

Also in support of this initiative, people have been posting their three words to tell the world about type 1 diabetes, using #T1Din3 on twitter. After two fabulously successful years of Diabetes Art Day, and now all the fun I’m having with the World Diabetes Day Postcard Exchange, here are my 3 words:

Creativity – Embrace – Life

In some Diabetes Awareness Month non-news, I’ve spent the last two nights trying to do something blue to my hair. I got the idea from Auntly H at Beyond Your Peripheral Vision. I saw she was ordering a blue wig because she figured that was more likely to garner attention and questions than simply wearing blue clothes. I liked where she was going with that, so yesterday I picked up some blue hair dye while getting some bags of Halloween candy to restock the stash I had bought weeks ago, and we’d managed to do some major damage to… but that’s beside the point.

Last night I bleached the bottom 3 inches of several clumps of hair before Jason played hairdresser (photographer, hairdresser, IT support… what can’t my husband do?), and slathered blue goo in my hair. I waited, I rinsed, I washed, I dried, and I was sorely disappointed with the way-too-subtle results. Tonight I was determined to make my blah-blue into true-blue, so again, with Jason’s assistance, I slathered more blue goo on my hair, waited even longer, rinsed, washed, dried, and was aggravated to still have nothing more than a very subtle blue tint, which you can sort of make out in the photo. I’m not giving up on having blue hair to raise a little diabetes awareness, but this is clearly a work in progress, so stay tuned.