Over the weekend, I saw a post from Stephen with the meme in it and felt this moment of, “Oh hell yes.  Something fun and kind of mindless that doesn’t involve being on a soapbox.  Want.”  So I did the meme post and it felt fun.  Like I didn’t give a shit and wanted to write something for the sake of the fun and connection of it, not to say something Important.

Reminded me of old school blogging.  I started writing online in May 2005 and back then, there weren’t a lot of people reading so it was kind of a don’t-give-a-shit-free-for-all.  Write whatever you want.  Don’t even spell check it HA HA you REBEL.  (But then go back and spell check it immediately, also giving it a grammar once-over because I am a lifelong English major.  In related news, never end a sentence with a preposition because it will give you forever-hives.)  Get to know your peers without self-editing and self-imposed deadlines and self-consciousness.

I don’t know what’s happened to my voice in the last year or two, but it’s harder and harder to write some days.

“Is it writer’s block?” asked Chris.

“Kind of.  But it’s more like rehashing the same topic all the time and while there’s always something new to say because diabetes is that way, sometimes I don’t want to talk about it at all.  Keeping my head straight while managing the disease itself doesn’t always leave room for editorial.  Sometimes the best way for me to deal with some diabetes stuff is to work it out privately, you know?”

It’s hard to share things as I’ve grown older.  I stopped sharing photos of my daughter (and have never shared her name) on this website because I wanted to protect her privacy, but after a while, I realized I wanted to protect some of my own privacy, too.  I chronicled my engagement and wedding and move from RI to CT (and back again, all Hobbit-style) and pregnancy and, and, and … and now I’m not sure what I want to share, but diabetes-wise, I’m more and more inclined to share less.

Logging on to write about a wicked low blood sugar, for me, is an easier story to share because it’s encapsulated in that moment of the low.  Writing about how it feels and what I did to treat it is therapeutic.  But it’s a little more challenging to write about the aftermath of lows like that; telling the story of how fears of hypoglycemia permeate so much of what I do takes longer to tell.  Do I write about how I have trouble going to sleep for weeks after a bad low, because I think about how morning might be a stretch to reach? Do I even want my brain to take that journey?

Nope.  Sometimes that answer can be a big, fat nope.  Writing about that stuff is a complete fuckery of my mind.  While I have been grateful, at times, for the ten years of archived writing here on my website because it can be good for me to see how far I’ve come, other times I am a little bummed out that ten years of writing about diabetes could easily turn into twenty (but maybe not fifty because What If and that’s the shit that makes my head spinnish).  It’s been a really short and simultaneously loooong ten years of blogging, and the same goes for 28 years with diabetes.

I miss the old school blogging, quite a bit.  I miss the small community feel that used to be in play, where people wrote in hopes of connecting instead of being “seen.”  (I’m not sure that makes sense written out as it feels in my heart, but I’m resolved to not delete anything from this post, kind of proving a point to myself that I can write without considering consequence.)  I appreciate all of the new information being posted and the innovation and reporting that’s taking place but I miss the people themselves.  I don’t give a shit about bylines.  I care about people.  The people are still there and sharing, but there’s a lot of Agenda permeating the community and I kind of miss when it felt more organic and PERSONAL damn it and a little less structured.  I, personally, am losing a bit of my grip on what motivated me to blog in the first place.  I want to return to the real “why,” which was to find community and make the journey with diabetes suck less.

So what’s the point?  The point is that I liked writing that post this weekend.  It’s the first time I’ve written (or at least listed) without thinking too much over the past few months.  The second time I’ve written without caring for consequence is today.  I’d like to return to that kind of blogging, for at least a while, because it feels good.  Fun is also a thing, and I want more of that.  Especially here on my website, where I’m proud have built my online nest.  Better than trying to create something “perfect.”  Perfect isn’t a thing.  Reality is, and this community has forever been rooted in reality.

The reality of life, of life with diabetes, of an imperfect life with an imperfect pancreas and an imperfect mouth that curses often but please forgive me for saying fuck so often.  It’s a curse of a curse.

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