Friday, April 10, 2015

Different Ways of Coping

As we've traversed these new waters, I've come to realize we all cope differently.

Selah has just 'gone with the flow' and adapted to her new way of life.  Not saying she's not been sad or struggled, but... in general..... 'it is, what it is' with her.  At 6 she already understands that foods with protein have no carbs, therefore, cheese and nuts are 'free foods' for all intents and purposes. When it's time for a snack, just ask for cheese.  LOL!

Techno has adapted by talking to his own endocrinologist and has armed himself with knowledge of all the technology at our fingertips to make this journey easier.  Less traumatic all around.

Our older kids have delved into helping out with her care - learning what her target ranges are, being part of her sugar checks, learning what type 1 diabetes actually is and how to counter what well meaning people may say that just isn't quite right.

I on the other hand, just needed to cry.  To mourn.  To feel all these raw and broken emotions.  And.... to write about it, here.

It felt like I might never stop crying.

Like my emotional state was going to be ragged forever.

Chafe, fragmented, and tattered was going to be my countenance.

But, it wasn't.

I didn't stay there - completely.

However, I realized that part of what I needed was for people to just let me feel sad.

Let me cry.

Let me recoil.

Let me lash out in my unbridled fretfulness.

Allow me to feel the emotions that were coming at me. Through me.

For people not to tell me 'it would be ok'.

Not to hear, 'it could be worse.'

I didn't want to feel I was WRONG because I was sad.  Shattered.  Raw.

I needed ears to listen.

A shoulder to cry on.

Someone saying, "It's ok.  This is normal.  You CAN cry.  Yell.  Sleep.  Whatever it takes to make it through the storm."

I wanted people to reach out and tell us they loved us.  They were praying for us.

That helped.

It healed.

I guess, for me, I just needed..... time.

Time to feel the emotions.

Time to acknowledge the reality of this life-long diagnosis.

Time to emerge out of the visceral state in which I began.

Time to be ready to face others who were concerned for Selah - to be able to talk about the situation.

Time..... to...... breath.






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