I started my journey on December 31, 2016. I have started and stopped diets throughout my life and have always had a weight problem. But when my Family Practitioner told me he couldn’t serve me anymore because my A1C was very high and he advised I see an Endocrinologist, the news really affected me.
Yes, I am diabetic. I don’t share this with many. In fact, I really don’t like sharing it because it’s embarrassing to me that at my age I already have Type 2 Diabetes and have had it for more than 10 years. Diabetes is not something I am proud of, is never something I wanted and in fact when I was diagnosed with Pre-Diabetes, instead of trying to eat better and do anything to get myself out of the Pre-Diabetic range I did the opposite, got very angry about my diagnosis and gave it the middle finger. I was not serious about changing and I could have cared less because no label was going to define me. Sadly, family physicians treat you differently when you are diabetic. If you have high blood pressure, you are treated as any normal human being but once you are diabetic they become wary, have a hands off approach and are unwilling to serve you anymore until you “get on track.”
So, my first day at the Endocrinologist on December 28, 2016, I was really surprised to look about the waiting room and find I was the youngest person there. It was shameful that I was there to begin with when most everyone was elderly. There was no reason a young person like me should be in a Specialist’s office and the fact that I let myself go after my mom who was my best friend passed away in July 2015 really came to light. When my mom, the joy to my life, decided she didn’t want to be here anymore, it really affected me more than I thought it ever would. I am a very spiritual person and I knew she was okay, happier than me who was left behind on Earth still suffering her loss but the fact that I could not see her, hug her or even hear her voice anymore really devastated me. I tried to be strong for my dad, who was also left behind, but I didn’t care much anymore about me, about my weight, about my health and with my dad’s failing health, I now took on the work of three jobs (including taking care of my dad by buying him groceries, checking his mail, washing his dishes, collecting his garbage). My dad’s list of chores piled on as his depression took affect and he went from using a cane to using a walker full time. I still have the juggle of three jobs to this day but my visit to the Endocrinologist on December 28th literally changed my life.
On December 28th, the first thing my Endocrinologist asked me was why I thought my A1C was out of control. Well, that did it. I broke down into tears and I talked to him about my mom’s passing. I felt miserable inside, ashamed that I was telling a total stranger my deepest feelings that I kept hidden from everyone else except my husband, and I was in total deep depression and didn’t know it. He sympathized with me and we had a good conversation. He recommended I see a Therapist and buy a book to help me heal in the meantime. I left the office and processed all he told me and decided to do things my way. I didn’t need a therapist, I just needed to make a change and I’d take one day at a time, one step at a time.
So, the next day I started eating foods that were as minimally processed as I could. I actually started cooking, something I abhorred and associate with female slavery. I have very different ideas of cooking than most I know. My dad was the one who cooked in our household and my husband is the one who does the cooking in my family. I do not like cooking, never have and don’t think I ever will. The idea of cooking for hours for a man is not my idea of fun. However, if I was going to make a difference, baking had to become second nature to me so I decided to do what I needed to do for my health.
And now, not quite but almost three months later, though it has been slow going and frustrating at times and I have had to adjust my diet several times over the past few months, I have lost a total of eleven pounds. I am now one pound away from the weight I was before my mom passed away. When my mom passed away, I packed on weight like there was no tomorrow, eating when I was full to cover the deep recesses of pain inside me and I realize this was all out of grief but I am done with this weight and I am done with this lifestyle. I am going to continue this journey as much as I can, taking each day at a time. I still miss my mom, very much so, but I find when I eat better I generally feel better and this has helped a lot with lightening the heavy depression and loss I felt for more than a year.
I thank you for taking the time to read my first entry into this journal and ** I invite you to follow me on my journey as I continue to change my life. ** Have a Happy Day!