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With the new year comes new beginnings, new resolutions, and the idea of having a fresh new start. It has many people thinking forward about how they want to pursue the year and set goals for themselves in hopes of achieving them. Many people this time of year are optimistic about turning things around and bettering themselves.
I, on the other hand, am finding myself missing the darkest days of my diabetes life.
Approximately one year ago, I was on the road to being married. I was in the throws of wedding madness, decorating my centerpieces, picking out my wedding shower outfit, putting the final touches on what came to be a perfect day. But I was also secretly struggling with diabulemia, which at that time was just coming to light to my family. I was in the middle of the happiest time of my life and the deepest depression I could imagine. I was slowly killing myself as I prepared to walk down the aisle to my future.
Although I had relinquished the secret to my sister and fiance, I continued down the path of self destruction. I sneaked carb loaded food any time I could. Eating entire packages of cookies out of my desk drawer at work, buying and eating candy and chips and anything else I could find while my fiance was working the closing shift, hiding food in my house so my fiance wouldn't find it and know that I wasn't trying to get better; the list goes on and on.
I was losing weight at an alarming speed, but somehow I didn't realize how much I was actually losing. By the time of my wedding, I had lost 20 pounds. The feeling of my soaring blood sugar became comforting to me. I felt like hell, but I knew that meant I was losing weight, and I started becoming addicted to that feeling. My eyesight was blurry, my brain wasn't functioning up to par, my memory was terrible and I could hardly stay awake, but day after day I found myself walking out of the grocery store on my lunch break with cookies, candies, chips and sweets and hiding them in my desk at work.
I hit an all time low. My relationship with my fiance wasn't the best. We were fighting over how frail I had become and he would beg me to get better. He was watching me destroy myself and there was nothing he could do. The night before my wedding shower, my mom tearfully pleaded with me to stop doing what I was doing and all I could do was stare away because I didn't want to talk about it. My sister would yell at me to take my insulin like I'm supposed to. I finally decided it was time to get help.
I started seeing a therapist and together we talked about long standing issues with me and my body. My sessions started a few weeks before my wedding. She wanted me to start taking my insulin, but I was terrified. I was terrified of gaining weight. I was terrified my perfect fitting wedding dress wouldn't fit. And although I was terrified, and at many points would rather have died than recover, I slowly started to do as I should.
After gaining some weight (which made my perfectly fitting wedding dress a little tight, which thus made me go into meltdown mode the night before) I decided that I wanted to be healthy. I wanted to be around for my family, my new husband, our dogs, and eventually kids.
I've gained 30 pounds since my lowest weight and for the most part, I keep telling myself that it doesn't matter, it's because I'm healthy now, and no one knows the struggles I've been through. My husband and I are ready and trying to have a baby, and that reason alone is keeping my blood sugars nearly perfect.
But I can't help the creeping thoughts and think about how I miss being skinny, I miss the high of the high blood sugar and I miss being in my own world.
I now understand that recovery is a life long fight and that it takes effort and strength to not only stay healthy but also to want to stay healthy.
Keep on fighting.