I’m frustrated with my diabetes.

I am probably what used to be called “brittle”. I can crash into a low so easily. As I sit here, my insulin pump had been suspended over 30 minutes. My blood sugar is just now coming out of the 60’s. I have eaten dinner and a low carb blueberry cobbler. Yet down down I went.

When my blood sugar is low, I can’t drive. I can’t exercise. I am getting to where I don’t “feel” low until I am in my 50’s. Not good. Thankfully, I have a Dexcom continuous glucose monitor that lets me know when my blood sugars are headed south.

I still can’t DO anything.

I’ve got a pile of books on diabetes. I am in several diabetic support groups.

I carry my pancreas everywhere – my Sugar Medical bag with my insulin, Dexcom and Omnipod PDM’s, and emergency supplies.

Ironically, I carry a bag of candy as well, for unexpected lows when I’m out.

As prepared as I am, I’m frustrated.

I want to go do things – we were planning on going for a walk tonight. I hope to do that still, but it won’t happen unless/until my blood sugars pull up out of the basement.

I came a long way getting healthier – and for that I am grateful.

The new challenge is to find out what works for me – what I can eat, how I can exercise without passing out. How to keep consistently safe numbers.

In the mean time, here I sit with my suspended insulin pump hollering at me.

I WILL figure this out.

I really hate diabetes.

I’ve been insulin dependent for almost a year. Most days I manage it. Other days, it manages me.

I had a wonderful dinner last night with my spouse, protein heavy, and carb intake reasonable. My blood sugar was low before dinner, and I bolused the appropriate amount of insulin for dinner. I came home, and my blood sugar was fine.

Then it took a dive. I corrected with a handful of cherries and a little chocolate. I wanted to go to bed, but it was time to change my insulin pump, so I did.

My blood sugar started going up to what looked to be a normal range, in the 120’s, so I went to sleep.

Not for long.

My blood sugar started to climb. And climb. My Dexcom continuous glucose monitor was alarming every five minutes, alerting me of my high blood sugar. I left my bedroom, not wanting to disturb my spouse with the alarms.

Frustrated, I started pounding down Gatorade Zero. I kept correcting my blood sugar with insulin. My blood sugar kept climbing.

Once it got to 300, I said uncle, and pulled out my newly placed pump. Although there was no indication it wasn’t working, I was hoping that the pump was the problem.

It was.

My blood sugar is below 300 and steadily dropping. It’s 0318 and I’m still drinking Gatorade Zero. I won’t be able to rest until my blood sugar stabilizes.

It will probably be daylight before that happens.

To think, just over a year ago, I was a misdiagnosed type 2 diabetic, with minimal pancreatic function. But it had function. I could eat, exercise, sleep, and live without diabetes being constantly in the forefront of my mind.

Those days are long gone.

While I am grateful for the technology that helps me manage my type 1 diabetes, this disease sucks.

It really sucks.

Everyday, as I watch TV commercials, television shows, scroll through social media, or even listen to the radio, I hear the same thing. Male bashing – and lots of it.

I understand that there is humor in most things, and humor is important. What has happened for several years, however, is more insidious – it is the purposeful attack on men and maleness.

As a wife and a daughter, my job is to lift up the men in my life. Say what?!

Let me qualify this – if you are in an abusive relationship, then get out. If you are struggling in your marriage, get therapy. Do not air your dirty laundry – this is a lesson I have learned the very hard way when I was younger.

For the rest of us, count your blessings, and expound upon them.

My husband doesn’t leave the toilet seat up. He puts his clothes in the laundry basket. He’s not the sixth kid in the house.

My husband is my partner, and I am his help-meet. He cooks. He cleans. He does his own yard work. He changes the oil. If it’s broke, he fixes it.

He doesn’t come in and sit in the recliner and watch tv, while drinking beer and ignoring me.

All these stereotypes are perpetuated every day, and it isn’t doing anyone any good.

We’ve gotten to the point where radicals are claiming testosterone is “toxic”.

Nonsense.

There are two parts of this marriage, masculine and feminine, and we are both important.

My husband can lift heavy things that I can’t, and I’m not threatened by this. He’s my protector, he is chivalrous- he opens doors for me, and I’m okay with this. He honors me, and I know this is a blessing.

Being a weaker vessel, as the Bible refers to women, is not a slight to me. I don’t need to be him. I don’t want him to be me. We each bring important, different qualities to our relationship.

One is not more important than the other.

I do not want us made into an amalgamation – though we are one as a couple, we are two individuals.

Lift up your spouse. Honor their strengths. Don’t chip away at them. Appreciate what you have, instead of highlighting the minutia.

I am married to a strong, masculine man.

I couldn’t be happier.

One of the most surprising things I have found since I stopped working full time and started being a wife, mother, nana, and writer full time is my new level of contentment.

If I had to describe my previous state of mind, I would say anxious. Uneasy. Always trying to think. Plan. Get through the day.

Now, I have daily goals – but no one is going to live or die based on my actions (or inactions). I am sleeping much better, now that I am not waking up before my alarm most days.

I am at peace.

It’s been a long time since I have consistently felt this way, and I am savoring it. I am appreciating it. I am beyond grateful!

It was unexpected. I’ve lived so long in a state of high anxiety, I just assumed that was my life. Instead, it was my living.

I feel my mind clearing. I feel my shoulders relaxing, and I am breathing easier.

This decision is already proving to be the best thing for my health!

I’ve begun the journey of decluttering.

After working full time (and more) for the past 20 years, I have accumulated a lot of stuff. Clothes. Decor. Junk.

Early in my life, we moved every 1-3 years. The upside of this for decluttering is you are forced to look at every item, and decide if it is worth continuing with you on your journey.

Over a decade ago, the journeying stopped. The work continued, along with a family of five kids and two adults.

Here we are, now – empty nesters. Now I am taking time to heal my body. I took a good, long look around me.

Immediately, I could see that in order to get the clarity I needed mentally, I needed to clear out the clutter.

A lot of things have happy memories. My therapist said to me – kiss them goodbye. For some strange reason, that helps to let go.

I feel better already.

Now back to the closet to finish the purge.

Yesterday we went to the beach, and I got to do one of my favorite things – float.

As we crossed the bridge and I saw the green flag that signified calm water in the Gulf of Mexico, I was excited. Lately the flag has been yellow, and I am not a strong swimmer. The cautionary flag keeps me in the surf only, and away from my favorite pastime.

The green flag meant get your sunscreen on, and get into the water as soon as possible.

I waded far out, past the sandbar, until I was up to my chest in clear, calm, cool water. I slid into the water and floated on my back. Eyes closed, listening to the clatter of crabs and shells below me, breathing deep the salty air, listening to sea bird calls, hands facing up to receive all of this healing. Healing water. Healing relaxation. Sun, sky, waves.

Being at the beach is very soothing to me – especially on days when no one is smoking, playing music, or making a lot of noise. I like to just take it in. As my husband relaxed with his iPod music, I listened to nature. I breathed in slower, deeper. I felt myself relaxing.

When I can’t get in the water due to waves or jellyfish and June grass, I walk and walk along the beach, letting the water wash over my feet. Listening to the repetition of the waves, overlapping and eternal, I find the cadence of the water soothes me, beat by beat.

All we need is sunscreen, water, snacks, chairs, and towels. The Gulf of Mexico and her sandy shore provide the rest.

How grateful to her we are.

Once upon a time I was a cat person…

Cats were easier as a military family that moved every 1-3 years. We only had one dog, and shortly after getting Tip, we got orders to the Philippines. He was our first and last dog.

I admit I had a few dogs that didn’t last long at my house as a young adult. I had a big heart, but no experience with dogs, and that combined with shelter dogs didn’t prove to be a winning combo.

Another big factor is dogs frustrated me – they jumped on people, barked uncontrollable, and lunged out from retractable leashes. They were out of control!

All of these factors combined led me to staying content with my well behaved, indoor cats.

When I got married, my husband had a collie. She was a beautiful dog- but she was an alpha bitch, with a capital B! She didn’t help the dog situation at all. She passed away, and that’s all I have to say about old girl.

Two years into our marriage, we got Reese, a 5 year old chocolate lab. Perhaps the best dog ever! She was obedient, loving, house trained, smiley, and all around a pleasure. My heart began to soften towards dogs.

I eventually decided I wanted a dog I could exercise with. I wanted a smart dog, because a dumb canine would not do. I wanted a mid sized dog, so that the life expectancy was decent. I researched for several months, and finally settled on Australian Shepherd. I bought Mitzi from one of the top breeders in the country, and that was just luck on my part, finding such an outstanding breeder.

Since I knew nothing about dogs, I went to class with Mitzi right away. From puppy class through intermediate and CGC (Canine Good Citizen, through the AKC), we learned together. When she was old enough, she began to run with me. Walks and runs with Mitzi proved good for the health of both of us.

I had hopes of showing her in the ring, but after her blue ribbons as a pup, I couldn’t get the support locally to get the rest of the accolades I wanted for her. So she became solely my companion and best girl.

Mitzi has totally changed my world. I’m a dog person now. When I meet someone with a dog, I usually greet the dog first. I found out that it usually was bad dog parenting, not bad dogs, that led to behavior problems. I’ve even become a foster for a local rescue.

Mitzi loves her Daddy and the kids, but I am her PERSON. Everywhere I go, she is with me. She never lets me out of her sight. When I get up in the morning, she gets up, too, leading me through my routine.

I can’t imagine life without her.

I never knew I’d be a dog person someday!

(I still love my cat!)

We caravanned down to the bay front, and walked several blocks from the paid parking lot to the cordoned off roads at waters edge. It was sprinkling when we got there, and we set up our folding chairs to establish our place of observation. It would be my first fireworks show in this city, despite having lived here over 10 years.

Almost immediately, it started to rain steadily. I popped open the umbrella I brought as a lark to ward off the rain, and the children with us suddenly became my friend for moments at a time, futility trying to avoid getting wet.

Behind me, a vibrant double rainbow had appeared, stretching fully across the sky, and landing in the water on either side of my view. I had come to see the fireworks- this would be the only display I would enjoy.

More and more people began to crowd the road, and there was a respite in the rain. We checked and rechecked the Doppler radar, naively believing that the small colorful circle over us was moving on. We projected the wind direction, and predicted a great, cool evening for fireworks. All around, there was the raucous noise of fireworks going off that the crowd had bought and brought. Screamers, rockets, and spitting lanterns interrupted our conversations, in sudden bursts of light and sound.

The clouds above us stilled. The rain began in earnest, intensifying as the skies darkened. Suddenly, lightning lit up the sky, with a thunderous boom following shortly behind it. It was time to abandon our plans and head for the car.

As we gathered the chairs, the rain became a deluge, turning the road into a creek, soaking us through in waves of warm water. We began to walk faster, laden with chairs and blankets, as I clutched my umbrella in hopes to keep a small fraction of myself dry. The lightning intensified, and I said a prayer under my breath as we raced to the car.

We all made it there, dripping onto the leather seats, laughing at the way the night turned out.

As we drove off, despite the downpour, the fireworks show began.

Oh, how I miss my dear departed friend Cindy. She was an amazing woman who pulled no punches. She had many wise sayings and retorts that I still use to this day.

One of my favorites is her shortened quip about this Bible passage:

Matthew 7:3-5 (NKJV) And why do you look at the speck in your brother’s eye, but do not consider the plank in your own eye? Or how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me remove the speck from your eye’; and look, a plank is in your own eye? Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.”

Plank eye! When someone was obviously tripping over their own plank, but felt the need to chastise you on your speck.

Listen- no one here has arrived. No one is perfect. One of the easiest ways to avoid dealing with your issues is to start micromanaging someone else’s.

Plank eye! Let’s make a deal. I’ll work on me, and you work on you.

It’s a win win.

It’s my first official “just hang around the house day” since I resigned June 15. I have been running in fifteen directions, but today, I only had to go to the pharmacy and Publix.

It’s raining today. It has been raining daily, torrentially, for what seems like weeks. I’m trying to make the best of it – it certainly doesn’t help when I’m trying to train a puppy to do her business outside! I have been dashing out with her when the torrent slows to a drizzle.

In the mean time, the rain means cooler temps – so I can sit in the rocker on the covered back porch and watch the dogs play. Usually in July this is impossible- the humidity and heat drive me inside for days and days at a time.

I also took the opportunity to put the baskets of ferns and flowers off the porch and into the yard. That’s one less chore to do – I’ll let Mother Nature do the watering this week.

There is a stillness after the rain, and the grass is almost glowing with a rich bright green glow. The succulent flowers are boisterously blooming, and the frogs are singing from their hidden puddles.

Rainy days and Mondays have their hidden delights, it seems.

I’m glad I’m here to enjoy them!