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One Moment.

We were talking about meeting with Christel and how long she and I have both had diabetes.  Over twenty years for both of us.  Over twenty years for so many of us.

We don't talk much about diabetes at home.  Sure, there's plenty of talk about the blog and work and different projects, but the disease itself is usually held at arm's length.  We understand how serious it is but can't face life with such a furrowed brow all the time.  It's just a press release.  It's just a URL.  It's just all these people blogging about different lives with the same disease.

There are moments I forget I'm living with it, too. 

"What about clinical trials?"  "What about generic insulin?"  "What about that guy with the thing in that country who cured the mouse?"  "What about helping people understand the differences between type 1 and type 2?"  "What about medical insurance?"  "We should think about a [insert project here] or maybe contacting some people for a [insert another idea here]."

And he's so excited about the possibilities for making a difference.  His eyes are shining in that way that reflects true hope and effortless love, in that way unfamiliar with what twenty-one years feels like, because he has barely known three.  He wants to make a difference.  And I do, too.  But tonight, I just wanted to make dinner.

He stops.We're in this together.  All of us.

"I'm sort of preaching to the choir, aren't I?"

I nod and smile.

"I'm with you, Chris.  I'm just sort of tired of singing."

My face feels hot.  My eyes tear up.  I'm not done fighting and not done advocating and not done trying to make a difference, but I'm feeling so tired at this moment, and so uninspired. 

"I'm with you, for all of this.  Forever, you know."

His words reach right into my heart, folding close around the raw parts of me that don't ever sleep.  I crumble in, held close against the man who will take care of me now, while I'm healthy, and who will care for me should body start to fail.  It feels intense and overwhelming.  And I cry, surprising myself with ragged breaths and burning tears. 

I forget I sometimes feel this way, all lost and tumble-dried.

I have a good cry.  He holds me and I feel better.  I'm grateful for my support system, both in my home, in the folds of my family, and in the wilds of the internet.  Love and support makes every shot less painful, every number less judgmental, every hurdle more surmountable.

I suddenly feel inspired again.

Comments

Thank you.

When I started pumping, my doctor warned me that a pump can act as a continuous reminder of diabetes. That it may make me feel more burdened, more burned out.

Being an advocate, a voice, an inspiration or whatever other labels we could attach, seems much the same. Worse, perhaps. It can constantly push diabetes to the forefront.

Anyone who has never been tired of diabetes does not have diabetes, or has never cared for someone close who has it (or they're just very new to those things).

The most important thing is support and, Kerri, you have that in bucketloads. I'm glad you've regained inspiration, but it wouldn't matter if you hadn't, so long as you are personally supported and happy. That is what matters most of all.

I just shed a tear or two myself.

Sometimes this crummy disease can get the best of us. I'm glad that you could let it out, and become inspired again. But it seriously would have been okay if you hadn't. You have support literally from all corners of the earth. Yay Kerri!

Wow, you just made me cry. In that way that says, "I know exactly what you mean." Tuesday will mark just 3 years for me with this disease. But in those three years I found a partner for life and married him this year. My Chris tells me the very same thing in my darker moments.

Though I've never met you, you are a big part of my support system, Kerri. I could thank you every single day. So, here's my thank you of the day.

Kerri,
This may be my most favorite post of yours. Thank you for sharing it, and for sharing your life and thoughts with all of us. It helps inspire so many of us, too. I am glad you had a good cry. We all need that sometimes. I totally relate to just wanting to make dinner--afraid to hope too much for a cure or the next new thing. Loved ones help and support makes all the difference. Your blog was one of the first to bring me to all these lovely, wonderful people in the diabetes OC, and oh what a blessing it has been.

So thank you, yet again, from the bottom of my heart, for all you do, all that you are, and all you share with each of us in your eloquent and inspiring Kerri way.

We got your back, sista.

I can so relate to your post. My daughter is the one with diabetes. She is approaching her 10th year with the disease. She is 12. Sometimes you are just tired of singing, but still care about and believe in the choir. I have been reading your blog for quite some time and I appreciate your sharing your life. It gives me hope for my daughter's future.

A beautiful post.

Kerri,
Your post touches my heart. I cannot imagine having lived with this disease for over twenty years, and truthfully I can't even imagine two. So much of your world seems tied up in diabetes, not to mention dealing with the daily grind of life on insulin. That is so overwhelming, it seems only natural to break down every now and then. No one can be strong 24/7. It is at these times, our loved ones help us to relieve our heavy burdens. I'm glad you have that love an support, and I wish you nothing but health and happiness in your life.

For all the hope, life and optomism you bring to us in cyberspace, you definitely deserve all the world has to offer. Thank You.

Kerri, Thanks for posting this. I've had a few of those moments since I started living with my fiance'. Thanks again for all that you do for this community.

I loved this post and I relate to it so much.

Just this weekend I had my first good cry in quite awhile, and it was diabetes related too. It's weird how all of these feelings about our disease can sneak up on you on of a sudden. It doesn't matter how positive a spin we put it, having diabetes is hard.

It's especially touching when the ones we love share our fears and frustrations.

Thanks Kerri.

And Chris.

"I forget I sometimes feel this way, all lost and tumble-dried."

You have a stunningly beautiful way with words.

Once again, thank you for being so honest.

That was a good post about being tired of advocating, and dealing with diabetes. I am with you in this. Alot of us are. I am dealing with various issues with a family member. Thanks for putting it into words, and sharing yourself.

I've been diabetic for 23 years now. My husband does what your Chris did for you every day. I thank GOD everyday for putting us in each other's paths. He is a true blessing. My Alex believes in me, even when I don't believe in myself. I'm a candidate for a kidney/pancreas transplant. I'm on dialyis. Every single time I go to dialysis, I pray to GOD that no one ever has to go through this again. The only way that will happen is if they find a cure. When they find a cure for diabetes kidney disease will be a distant memory for people with diabetes.

Great post Kerri.

It does get tiring doesn't it. I think we all need that good cry every now and then. I know I do. It seems to help us release those pent up emotions about something that makes us feel so vulnerable and helpless at times. We release, then feel better and get back to living again.

sometimes, for me (and for my daughter I imagine) it is all just a royal pain in the ass. But then you sniff, test, start singing again. one more day, Kerri.
Sarah

How blessed you are Kerri. When I was married I didnt have health insurance like I do now. I always somehow had to make my insulin last because buying his tools where more important than making sure that I had insulin and test strips.

Kerri,

This is a beautiful post. Thank you.

My wife of 35 years and I watched the movie The Notebook and I still well up with tears when I think about it. I was so torn up at the end. My chest felt like it was going to explode. I couldn’t get the emotions out fast enough. I thought I was going to die holding her. I've been diabetic 25 years and it's contributed to my heart disease. We've been married since she was 17. I was 23 (don't ask and she wasn't pregnant). She's always been my baby and it hurts so much that this disease will take me from her sooner than I ever imagined. It hurts so much.

You’re too young to have to worry about this. Chris is special.

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