I know some people think it’s weird to celebrate a D-anniversary. I didn’t used to celebrate it. I used to mope for most of October. When I was able to develop a more positive attitude about my ‘betes though, I also came to see my D-anniversary as a day to mark with something other than pulling the covers over my head and feeling sad and resentful. I had done more than enough of that over the years so once it was finally out of my system, going out for ice cream sundaes just seemed like a better option, and that’s how we celebrate now.

Possibly even more peculiar is marking the day that I relinquished my eating disorder once and for all. It’s still somewhat weird for me to talk about my eating disorder since it’s hardly something I’m proud of having done for 18 years, and keeping it under wraps was simply how I functioned for all those years, but I try to be open about it because I’m hoping others will benefit from knowing what I did and that I was able to recover. I wish I could go back and undo it, but it brought me to this point with both the good and the not-so-good that now makes my life, so just like my ‘betes, I try to find some shred of gratitude for the way it’s shaped my life.

Because it was so much a part of me for so long, I’m extraordinarily proud of myself for having overcome it. I didn’t ever really think that would happen, and still find myself reflecting on what it meant when I had it, and what it now means that I don’t. There are occasions when my current life seems almost foreign to me without it. I wouldn’t go so far as to say I miss it, but there are instances when it just feels odd to me that it’s not there.

Most anyone who has had an eating disorder for a significant length of time will talk about it as if it was an old friend because on some level it becomes a reliable source of comfort. There are reasons why an eating disorder is so challenging to successfully treat and people with them are reluctant to give them up. For all the harm they do, and as difficult as it might be to understand if you have no personal experience with them, they do serve a purpose for those of us who have or used to have one.

As this anniversary approached this last month, I spent much time considering what I wanted to express about it. For a few weeks, I was looking forward to sharing about it since I see it as one of my most remarkable accomplishments. However, in the few days leading up to the day, I started to feel more anxious and doubtful about blogging about it, mostly because of my persistent shame which is compounded by the fact that I’ve only been free of my eating disorder for three years. Logically, I don’t see myself returning to my old ways in the future, but having gone down that road once before, I can’t deny having some fear about getting caught in that trap again. Also, I worry about others doubting my recovery which leads me to think maybe they can see something I don’t see, a vulnerability of which I’m unaware that could make me susceptible to relapse.

I had started to write about this impending anniversary during the first few days of my vacation last week, but somehow, when the day arrived, I forgot. I didn’t just forget to blog, I forgot what day it was altogether, and it was only last night as Jason and I were brushing our teeth that it occurred to me. With a mouth full of toothpaste, I told him, and he said, “It’s been three years?” I told him it had been, and that was that.

It was different from the previous anniversaries. The first year, we went out to dinner at a nice restaurant (Creole food, mmm…) because as ironic as it is to have ice cream sundaes on my D-anniversary, having a decadent meal complete with dessert seemed like the right way to celebrate being eating disorder-free. Last year, we went to dinner again although I can’t recall where. This year there was nothing but the few words we exchanged last night, several days too late. I still want to remember it though because it’s a reminder of what things used to be like for me and how much they’ve changed for the better.

I suppose not having an eating disorder has lost its novelty, and eating the way I never thought possible – all the foods I like in moderation, balancing the healthy foods with the indulgent ones, taking my insulin the way I’m supposed to take it, and still maintaining a healthy weight is now status quo for me. This last Saturday marked three years of that, and I’m happy to say that while the official day is September 27th, I proudly celebrate it everyday.

I thought I’d have more opportunities to blog while on vacation, but between sightseeing, socializing, late dinners, and being so exhausted by the time I climbed into bed every night that I didn’t have the energy to watch TV let alone blog, it just didn’t materialize as planned.

I’m sitting in the airport now though, waiting for my 1:37 departure flight to supposedly take off at 2:50, due to “air traffic control” issues of some sort. We had already gotten to the airport 2 1/2 hours early, so that gave us another hour and change to browse every over-priced book store, newsstand and souvenir shop here in the San Fran airport. I wanted to buy some chocolate since SF is home to some magnificent chocolate-makers, but I resisted.

I had planned to change my infusion set on the plane, but due to the departure time change, I ended up doing it in the terminal. A couple of people glanced, but it didn’t cause a problem or any undue attention. I wasn’t about to do it in the ladies room, no way, no how. That’s just gross.

I’m happy to report, for the first time in a while, I made it through security without being accosted. Prior to going through, I took my pump, CGM monitor and transmitter off, and put them in my carry-on. I was a little concerned the actual sensor might set it off because it’s my understanding that it has platinum in it, but that didn’t cause any issues. It was a glorious moment, not being treated like a terrorist.

Hopefully, there won’t be any more delays. I got a roast beef wrap for dinner since the airlines can’t be bothered with customer service anymore. (Do I hide my contempt well?). Tomorrow, I’ll be back to blogging as usual, so I’m looking forward to catching up.

Well, we made it to San Francisco yesterday. The trip was fairly uneventful, albeit not particularly pleasant because, well, to be blunt, the airlines suck. We shared some curse words about having to pay extra for each having a suitcase to check. The plane did start shaking an awful lot at one point, and that freaked me out a bit. Dying in a plane crash is not high on my list of desirable ways to enter the next realm, especially on an empty stomach since they can’t spare a bag of peanuts anymore. Otherwise, my usual problems getting through security have proven to be consistent.

It wasn’t as traumatic as it’s been in the past, but it was an annoying experience nonetheless. Jason went though fine, so then I stepped though the metal detector after him. The alarms went off, and I waited to be hassled with what I’m sure was visible disgust. The guard inspected me, but apparently recognized that I was wearing an insulin pump, so he asked very casually, “You wear an insulin device?” confirming that’s what he saw. I felt relieved for a moment, thinking I wasn’t going to get another full body cavity inspection… well, that’s an exaggeration, but I always end up feeling violated.

My relief evaporated as quickly and unexpectedly as it had hit me when he instructed me to step to the side into the glass-walled room. I did as I was told, and stood there in the glass cage while other passengers eyed me up, I assume trying to determine if I was a terrorist. Jason put on his shoes and grabbed his carry-on, before also collecting my stuff, and stood there watching as another guard opened the glass door and guided me to the inspection area.

I sat as directed, vacillating between wanting to cry and wanting to punch someone. I’ve heard other diabetics say they cruise through security, confirming they’re wearing a pump, and skipping right through like any other person. I want to know why it is that every, and I mean every time I have to go though airport security, I have to go into the glass room, stand on the mat with the footprints and get felt up by some manly-looking woman. Seriously, I’ve frikkin had just about enough. The manly-woman wanded and released me. This time my only saving grace was that I wasn’t interrogated and the whole process took less time than it has before.

As we walked, I told Jason that the first guard even confirmed with me that I was wearing a pump. Jason, who despises flying with a passion because of the way airlines treat people, said with tangible disgust, “If he knew it was a pump, why did they even do that to you again?” referring to every other similar experience. As if reading my mind, he added, “It’s not like you asked to have a medical condition so they can treat you like s**t.” If only it were practical to drive to San Francisco, we’d gladly do it.

So that was that. A relatively minor bump, but one that got me pretty worked up regardless. I know another diabetic who had an especially bad experience at airport security, but every time I see a discussion on a forum, it seems most people just sail though without a problem. I can’t help but wonder how frequently pump-wearers get pulled aside like that since I can’t seem to get to my departure gate without being treated like a criminal.

Jason and I are off to the airport in 3 hours. We’re going to San Francisco and Napa Valley. We’re supposed to be there less than a week, but if we can’t get home for whatever reason, I have enough ‘betes supplies to last me for at least a month. Glucagon, 1½ bottles of insulin, pump stuff, sensors and CGM supplies, extra batteries (since I hear they don’t sell batteries in CA…), syringes, 2 bottles of test strips, 2 meters, and an extra pump.

It’s my hope that I can get through airport security without being patted down, wanded and interrogated, as has been my most awesome of luck the last time I traveled. That’s a story, but I’ll share it some other time when I’m not in the midst of packing my suitcases.

I have plans to meet up with a fellow ‘betic while we’re out there, so I’m excited about that. Our itinerary is a little tight, but if anyone else wants to meet up, drop me an email, or show up at Dottie’s True Blue Café on Jones between Geary and O’Farrell and join us Wednesday or Thursday for the most incredibly succulent, delectable breakfast ever. Just make sure you bring extra insulin.

Now that my BG has finally stopped being low, maybe I can finish packing and try to grab a couple of hours sleep before our ride to the airport shows up at the rather insanely painful time of 4:30AM.

Pardon my pun, but I’m still digesting a forum discussion about the applicability of Dr. Bernstein’s diet to a diabetic child. I’m not even sure where to start on this one. I’m not one of the doctor’s fans to begin with, so I’m no expert on the subject. I do know that the way I eat is way different from what he prescribes – he preaches minimizing carb intake, whereas I preach moderation, portion control and mindfulness. My ‘betes management is excellent, my weight is great, and any abnormalities in my lab work are due to those 18 years of not fully managing my ‘betes, not the fact that I snacked on some M&M’s earlier, so what I’m doing is working really well for me. I know his diet works for lots of people, but we’re all different so Dr. Bernstein’s Diabetes Solution is not a good solution for lots of us.

The idea of putting a child on that diet is abominable in my opinion, and really made my jaw drop that anyone would even consider it. It’s blog post worthy, but the overarching piece of the forum discussion, or lack thereof, that jumped out at me was what appeared to be a disregard for the psychological and social aspects of food and eating.

Obviously, food is necessary to exist, so from a strictly biological point of view there’s not anything more to it. Eat to live. If you can compartmentalize and think of it that way, then the doctor’s diet (or any comparable diet for that matter) will probably work well for you.

The problem is that we’re social beings, and our psychological development will make or break our ability to function and cope in the world. The proponents of low-carbing are often eager to give some explanation of the biology, and that’s all well and good, but the reality is that most of us can’t compartmentalize food and eating like that. We eat within a context, not in a vacuum. Eating is an emotional experience, and it’s often a social experience. My impression is that all but the most diehard low-carbers actually understand that to varying extents. That’s why many say they try to adhere to the stipulations of it, but they also try to maintain some degree of flexibility because the rigidity of it isn’t conducive to being a social, balanced being.

There’s a reason that people will talk about their “relationship” with food. Food is the ultimate form of nurturance. Food is intrinsically linked to socializing and relationships with others because it’s central to our earliest relationships with our parents, especially our mothers. We have behavioral responses to feeling hungry or satiated that ideally result in others responding to us. Those first experiences are the foundation for trusting that others will respond to us if we communicate our needs, that we can recognize and trust our own physical sensations, that we can develop long-term, stable relationships with another person, that we can connect to our environment.

So maybe you can begin to see how food and eating are a really loaded experience that can affect how we interact with our environment and our beliefs about relationships and how we function within them. If you can recognize the importance of the feeding experience to the development of an infant, then it’s not a leap of logic to start to see the significance of food and eating to continued development through childhood and into adulthood.

I’m of the opinion that we could benefit from looking beyond the biology of diabetic dietary management because I think the focus on that one aspect does a disservice to those of us who are just regular people. We’re willing to make adjustments for the sake of diabetes management, but not willing to adopt eating patterns so far from the norm that we can’t order off menus, we have to discard half of what we order because it’s forbidden, or we can’t join people to enjoy a good meal or a celebration without being singled out or singling ourselves out due to special needs.

Most people don’t want to live that way, but they end up feeling bad or guilty or undisciplined or gluttonous for choosing otherwise. Just as diabetes is a complex disease for which you have to consider multiple factors when making decisions, dietary management is more than just biology. It’s impossible to completely divorce oneself of the psychology and sociology of eating.

Let’s promote growth, development and success by considering a person’s life, their relationships, their environment, and their past, present and future because those are so important to our overall wellbeing. We are more than just a collection of metabolic processes and an A1c, and I believe people should stop looking solely into the microscope because they’re losing sight of the whole person.