It finally stopped pouring. But it is cloudy and dark for mid-day.
I’m enjoying a third cup of coffee today.
I know. Terrible. Like, two was bad. But three…gah! And I burnt my whole mouth on it…maybe that should have been a sign…maybe I should have put it down. But I didn’t. I’m drinking it…
Please don’t judge. And if you must, keep it to yourself.
Seriously. Keep it to yourself. I don’t need your judgement. Especially today.
41 days ago I was halfway to Algonquin Park. A weekend of sharing and learning alongside fellow Type 1s was waiting for me. A couple hundred kilometers down the road. My anxiety was raging. I was literally experiencing every emotion. Especially fear. Yet there was something pulling me…so I kept on driving.
Even though there was a big part of me that wanted to turn around and high-tail it home.
If you have been following this series (SPOILERS!) you know how things went. AMAZINGLY WELL!
In fact, those couple of days were life-changing! I met super awesome people, made some great connections (and even kept those connections post-camp), and learned a crap ton. Truth be told, I’m still digesting a lot of what I gathered that weekend.
I drove home high. Not on drugs or glucose. But high on hope. It was the first time, in a long time, that I felt so empowered. So ready for change. So in want of the what’s next that seems to travel along with that kind of hopeful momentum.
But that what’s next can be a HUGE mind fuck.
What IS next? Where do I go from here? How do I get there? Does there have to be a what’s next? Am I wasting the experience if I don’t DO something with it? What if I lose the momentum? What if, what if, what if…
At camp I learned about an upcoming conference. It was too late to book the weekend, I was informed, but they told me there were tickets for the Saturday night social portion. However, I had previous (unbreakable) plans in place for that night. Several of my fellow campers were attending the conference. Others, who like me had just learned about it, were planning to purchase tickets to the social. Some even inquired a few days before if I was going to change my mind and come, but my plans were locked in and I couldn’t change them.
Could I? No…those plans were in place and important to me. And my family.
Instead, I vicariously experienced it all through the posts and photos of all the attendees I knew. In this instance, I was incredibly grateful for social media. It looked like a fantastic event. More than just fun, it was a learning experience (I’m a knowledge junkie) and also another opportunity to bond with other Type 1s. To once again learn and share together. I lived it through pictures. I was so happy to see all those faces again.
I’m also human. I was a bit sad I wasn’t there, a bit panicked (will I be forgotten?) and jealous too. I felt left out. Like I said, I’m human. I am not ashamed of those feelings. Not proud of them either, but they are my feelings and I have to own them. I do own them.
Groups are difficult to navigate. Simply by their nature. You are taking a collection of individuals or things and trying to make them work together. But they are all unique and different.
Being a part of a group is a choice one makes but must do so knowing the consequences. You give a little (or a lot) of yourself to those other people. To the group. At least that is how it is for me. I am terrified of giving myself to others. In an authentic way. I am the first one to jump in and help in any situation, but I like to do it without letting anyone know who I am…
And that is largely why I have avoided friendships, because even small groups are scary. Perhaps, it is also why I (partially) chose my isolation from the Type 1 community.
In that group setting you run the risk of feeling things…things like I felt, left out, jealous…excluded.
And sometimes that can be good. Sometimes it can be like opening a can of worms.
Sorry. I had to go clean my shower. I don’t know why…I think because sometimes it is hard to talk about things. Like feelings. And yes, I could simply edit certain things out, but I feel that would be dishonest. And I really appreciate you spending your time here, reading my posts, so I want to be totally frank with you.
Even though my name isn’t Frank… *wink wink* Riiiight?!?!?!
Anyways. My camp friend (a wonderful and incredible Diababe!) and I met for a late lunch on the weekend. We chatted about the mind fuck that can come after putting yourself out there, like attending camp. You second guess yourself. Wonder if you did the right thing. Even though you know that you did…
November is Diabetes Awareness Month. And we both described that same feeling of…
——————-, in place of being really excited to celebrate our people. It was hard for us to describe to each other exactly what it was but we knew what it was.
We are both participating in the Happy Diabetic Challenge, posting something each day of the month about our lives with Diabetes. And that made us wonder if it was that dissection of our (sometimes private) lives that had caught us both off guard.
Later I thought to myself that maybe it was the come down from that high. The high that came immediately after camp. I wonder if we immersed ourselves so deeply that it is a long swim up to the top. My amazing friend (that first-ever Diabuddy of mine) warned me of this. When something overwhelming happens – good or bad – there is bound to be residual energy from that.
And sometimes that can take time to process.
So I’m going to be a little easier on myself.
And on the feelings that I am feeling.
And I’m going to dump what’s left of my coffee.
Not just because it is cold. But because it is time to change it out for something else.