I was talking with my mom last night.  A nice conversation, really.  We had spent a fun day on Saturday with Curtis' mom and we were chatting about how much fun it was.  She mentioned that she thought I was looking a little too thin and asked what I've been eating.  Not one to lie to my mom, I said, I guess not all that much, I'm not a big eater.  That's the truth, my calorie consumption these days usually stays under 1,200 or so.  I eat well, fruit, veggies, lean protein, some rice.  But I'm just not that hungry most of the time, and I don't eat if I'm not hungry. 

Anyway, I told my mother "don't worry, I'm OK..." 

Her return was, "You're still mine, you belong to me, you're my little girl."  

She was quick to amend part of the statement, "Well, you don't really belong to me, I guess."  

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Begin rant. 

So, um, my CGM is typically a very cool tool.  And I like it.  Not enough to wear it for more than three weeks at a time, but still an awful lot.   But damned if it isn't a bitch for me to put in without getting gushing bleeders and damned if it hasn't become a bitch for me to keep it in.  

I'm sure it has something to do with my activity level.  I work out at least 3 days a week, sometimes more often.  Many times, one of those work outs involves boxing.  Three times now, I have dislodged a site during a work out. 

Once, my stumbly feet after a round of leg presses landed the site up against the weight machine, scraping the site just right and pulling it completely out.  There was blood.  It was enormously painful.  

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I don't make resolutions so much.  Not because I can't keep them.  I've promised myself to eat well, exercise, take the healthy route - and I stick with all of it.  But the thing is, making actual resolutions - eh. 

But I realized sitting in my living room last night, reading and watching something not all that interesting on TV that I'm missing opportunities.  Specifically, this opportunity, at this blog.  The opportunity to share my story which might, in turn, help others.  I'm just not doing enough of it. And that's a shame.  So, I decided to make another loose promise to myself.  I'm going to endeavor to write here far more often.  Even on days when things might not be going so hot.  

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It's hard to be sad when you have diabetes.  It really does complicate the hell out of heartache. 

There are so many things in my life that are beautiful, gorgeous, and easy.  That keep me smiling and feeling good.  Lately though, there's been one area of struggle.  I won't go into the details, but let's just say anyone who's experienced real love and then real confusion around that real love could relate.

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It feels like I've been lying in the rain for an hour.  I am soaked.  And where the hell am I?  How is it raining?  I'm inside, right? 

I can see the ceiling, its popcorn bumps popping out, and the place where it meets the hot pink wall in this room.  My room?  This is my room, right?  Oh, god, how did I get so wet?  And cold.  I'm shivering.  But why am I sweating?  I think I'm cold.

I feel nauseous too.  Really, really sick to my stomach.  I'm pretty sure I can't get up.  The floor seems a long way away. 

I pull out my insulin pump, which feels foreign in my hands, not at all like a part of my body (that's how it usually feels).  And I look for the CGM screen, but I can't find it.  And it doesn't occur to me that I'm not wearing the CGM, that I'm taking a break.  I can't really read the pump screen anyway, can I? 

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Health insurance seems like a big mystery to me.  Not for nothing, but employer to employer the employee contribution, access to services, co-payments, and deductibles vary so widely it seems that changing jobs - and therefore health insurance - is like moving to another planet.

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