This time of year always reminds me of the many gifts life has brought me.

Sure, things are difficult at times.  But we simply can't let those difficult times be our focus.  This realization is a gift from my mother. 

At the time of my diagnosis, and in the many years since, she has again and again (sometimes with just a knowing glance or a soft smile), let me know that I can do the difficult things.  She has told me, with confidence, that I am strong, smart, capable.  And she has reminded me that the thing that says the most about a person is how they behave or react when things are challenging.

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This post was supposed to go up during American Diabetes Month - like, two days ago.

But it's worth posting, even a little late.

"No (wo)man is an island..."

Ain't that the truth?

Every time I read a post about a scary low, or a child running from a parent with a needle or a pump set.  Every time I read a post about being exhausted by the stress of the constant battle that is diabetes, or a morning shower had in tears because it's just been "one of those nights." 

Every time I cry or laugh with someone who lives on the other side of the country, or the other side of the world. 

Every single time.  My heart swells. 

Just knowing that any time of day, I can pour my heart out and someone will be there to catch it.  To understand. (READ MORE)

I have two eyes. 

I have ten fingers. 

I have two legs.  And two thighs. 

I have one insulin pump.   

I have about fifteen blood glucose meters.  

When I was a little kid, my mother used to tell my brothers and me to stop counting.  What she meant was to stop looking at how many cookies someone else got, or how many toys someone else had, or how much money someone else got in their allowance - and comparing it to what we had.  She would say "when you count what others have, and compare, it's easy to forget what YOU DO have."  

Sound advice.

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If nothing else, diabetes has provided me with stories to tell.

Like the time before diagnosis when I peed my pants.  Or the time I told a classmate if they weren't careful, I'd put insulin in their milk and make them diabetic.  Or the time I socked a kid who called a diabetic friend of mine "sugar-freak."  Or the times I've made a donkey of myself during a low.  

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There are some days when a person ought to just stay in bed. 

Under the covers.

Cuddled with the cat.

Warm and safe and happy and comfortable.

There are some days when staying in bed is the best possible option.  Of course, those days are often realized in hindsight.  When the proverbial ball is already rolling in the absolute wrong direction.

Today has been, without a doubt, one of those days.

I got up this morning feeling alright.  Fairly well-rested, actually, and not fighting - as I'm wont to do - the inevitable reality that another day has dawned and it can't be spent in the paradise of slumber.

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I spent Saturday at the Providence Convention Center.  Getting tattooed.  The product of my inking can be seen in the photo attached to this post.  The picture, I can assure you, doesn't do it justice.  It's really beautiful.  And it means a lot to me.  The script says "I don't need sleep to dream" and I think the winged goddess looks like something out of a daydream - and like a daydreamer herself.  

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