Type 1 Tales

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i go into hospital with a killer stomach ache.
twelve hours later i am told the news. its diabetes.
my phobia of needles had come to life.
but that wasn’t the worst part.
the worse part was seeing my parents walk in after i was told,
with tears and heartbreak in their eyes.

i’ll never forget the day i went to christmas mass.
it was three days after i got released.
i heard my father crying,
the loud kind, the kind where you need to clench your chest.
my dad is a military man.
in my 23 years of life it was,
and to this day still is,
the only time i have ever heard him cry like that.
sometimes i can’t help but think that
it’s because of me.

my sister takes me to my room and wants to have a talk.
i’m three months out of the hospital and struggling with
the insulin/carbs ratio.
i have put on 10 Kilograms (22 pounds) and the weight keeps coming.
she sits me down and says,
“jade don’t you see you’re fat, can’t you see your overweight.”
maybe she said it to get a reaction or maybe she thought it was true,
either way,
i’ll never forget that day.

everyday i wake up, i hate myself more and more.
mostly because of the diabetes and partly because of the weight.
i get told by my family that i am suffering from depression.
i ignore them.
it cant be true.

I need a way to get through the pain.
i feel like my chest is going to burst.
something. anything.
i see the scissors on my desk.
NO!! my heart is screaming,
my mind has other ideas.
“do it and you can free the pain.”
i try it for the first time that day, and continue for some time.
but it doesn’t take the pain away like it said it would.
it makes it more unbearable.
it makes me hate myself even more.
i didn’t know that was possible. i still see the scars on my wrists and legs.

suicidal thoughts becomes a part of my week, then my day.
now its all i think about.
its the only way i can see out of this.
i can’t, its too much.
i think about my family and can’t do it.
that doesn’t stop the thoughts though.
i cant see myself ever getting out of this?
maybe this will be the rest of my life.

i look at my needle,
maybe if i take too much ill just die in my sleep.
quiet. peaceful.
everyone will think it was a mistake, a tragic accident.
i think about this everyday for 6 months.
i can’t find the courage.
i care about my family too much.

i look at my needle,
i’m exhausted, i just cant anymore.
i skip my first needle, then another, then another.
soon enough i’m not taking any.
i read up on the complications…
thirst, frequent urination, fatigue, amputation, kidney failure, nerve damage, diminished sex drive,
rapid weight loss, coma, death.
This brightens my day.
Two birds with one stone.

i wake up in a silent scream.
its the second time in two weeks I’ve had these dreams.
i can’t breath, i cant move, i turn my head and see myself sleeping.
i wonder if this is the end,
i hope it is!
i wake up alive the next morning and look up the symptoms.
i have sleep paralysis.

the day after i find out about my sleep disorder,
i feel different.
is this what a panic attack feels like?
my heart is beating weird, i cant get in a proper breath,
i’m shaking and sweating.
i dont want to be at work.
something feels wrong.
i am later told i have anxiety and given valium.

i look down and all i see is fat.
it seems that no matter how much i lose, its never enough.

insulin saves my life but it comes at a cost.
i still see fat on a plate when its really just pasta,
most of the time taking insulin is the hardest part.

It gets better. I promise

These moments have been some of my hardest. Diabetes has changed who I am from the inside out. My thoughts, my feelings, my trust, even my body. But what’s worse is, I let it. For the past four and a half years I have struggled with many things. Some of them have gone away and some of them linger, waiting for when I am most vulnerable to bring their effects in full force. for a great while i didn’t think i was ever going to be happy again. i thought pain was my life and would continue to be my life forever. i didn’t see a way out. It took me a long time and a certain incidence to see it was either death or recovery. that day i chose recovery and it was a choice i have to make over and over again even to this day.

im here to tell you that i understand true pain. i understand heartbreak. But i’m here to tell you its never too late to choose recovery. its never too late to choose happiness, to choose you. i’m not going to lie. its hard as hell. for me its been the hardest thing in my life. but over the past 4.5 years my bad days are getting less frequent and short lived. and 50 bad days a year is better then 365 bad ones and i dont doubt that number will only get smaller. we have to live for the good ones.

if any of you need someone to talk to, or advice im always here. i love you all!!!

(via myrealityofdiabetes)

(via vendettared)