Thursday, January 5, 2012

The Wishing.

Staring longingly at the food we wanted to eat half an hour ago. That number hasn't come down yet. Correction? Walk? Failed site? Time? When will I finally get to eat?

Waiting.

This could be the results of years with diabetes, or maybe it was one of the other conditions, or maybe it's genes, or maybe it's dumb luck. What do I do now? How do I know what the right answers for me are? Do other people feel this way, too? How many other people are going through this and not talking about it?

Wondering.

I don't know what this means for my future. What do I try? What have others done? What effect will this have on me; on the ones I love? Am I stuck on this path, or can I alter it? Will what I decide make any difference in my outcomes? Is this giving up? Am I doing everything I can? Giving it my best?

Worrying.

I never wanted this; not for me, not for you. No one should have to do this alone. I want to fast-forward to the day this gets plucked away, like petals from a flower.

Wishing.

At times, it feels like that's all this is - waiting; wondering; worrying.

What pulls me out is hope. The sharing; the bond. The reminder that life doesn't operate on anyone else's timeline, and negativity won't bring it to now any faster.

But the last? The last I'll keep. I'll keep the wishing.

For me, for you.

12 comments:

  1. Absolutely love this. Sums up so much of what I'm feeling right now with my situation. Lots of love, my friend.

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  2. Great post, Kim. Very interesting and thought-provoking... Here's to as little waiting, wondering, worrying as we can manage.

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  3. These thoughts (and more) constantly remain in the back of my mind on a daily basis. Helps to know there are others struggling just the same.

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  4. I know we all ask these questions. All we can do is try our best and hope for the best.

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  5. this is brilliant, my friend. i love it. and the importance of hope cannot be overstated. it's what keeps me from giving up. hoping and wishing.

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  6. Thank you for your thoughts and feelings, Kim. It does help to know others feel the same. My father, who was diagnosed with Type 1 at age 38 and was 47 when I, his youngest, was diagnosed at age 9, used to say he wished for a cure in my lifetime as he probably wouldn't see it in his. He's been gone for 22 years and I'm now wishing it for the kids getting diagnosed with Type 1 today. Maybe in my lifetime...
    Mindy

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  7. Very moving Kim. I can completely relate. Thanks for continuing to wish.

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  8. Beautifully said, Kim. Thank you!

    I happen to be single, but often wondered (while sitting in my kitchen, wanting to eat, but with a too-high BG) what it would be like to have to share this aspect of Type I diabetes with a spouse.

    Yes. Let's keep on hoping!

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  9. You have such a way with words. This post hit me hard today. I adore you Kim, and am so thankful to have you to look up to!

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