Diabetes Educational Model Crowd-Funding Campaign

hba1c

favor requested below!

i’ve been working with a man with t1 diabetes who creates educational 3d models of proteins. his name is casey steffen and his work is spectacular.

he has created a hemoglobin model duo to show the difference between glycated and normal hemoglobin (as you see above).

i don’t often use this space to promote products, but i sincerely believe in what the distribution of these glycated hemoglobin hba1c models could possibly do.

like jerry the bear, it promotes learning through physical contact. you don’t just look at it in a text book, you get to hold it. You get to see and feel how a1c levels go up. i am a kinesthetic learner and hands-on always improves my learning curve. i know i’m not the only one.

i imagine these models in diabetes camps, at pediatric endocrinology offices, at diabetes conferences like Friends For Life, etc.

it could drastically improve our understanding of how high glucose levels impacts your blood.

so the deal is that casey has started a crowd-sourced funding campaign on rocket hub.

he is half way to the goal, with only 21 days left.

i am giving to his campaign because it can help knowledge of the biology of an a1c test really stick. also it can raise awareness, and it looks really really cool.

if you are on twitter, please consider tweeting about this to help promote the success of the campaign. below are some tweets you could use. all you have to do is copy, paste and share.

it would be astronomical to see casey’s work come to fruition.

if you would like to give directly, here is the campaign page.

also, if you feel so inlaced (and i hope you do) send your doctor or CDE a link to the campaign. it is below for copy and paste purposes:

http://www.rockethub.com/projects/23187-hba1c-teaching-model-brings-diabetes-education-to-life

thank you for reading and considering helping to bring diabetes education to life.

_______________________

tweets:

- Help change #diabetes education by bringing #HbA1c to life! #HbA1cAware http://ow.ly/vPbmy @steffenvfx #DOC

- Revolutionary #Diabetes science education tool turns #HbA1c blood test into protein action figure #HbA1cAware http://ow.ly/vPbmy @steffenvfx #DOC

- Most confused by #HbA1c #diabetes #sugar; Interactive HbA1c Teaching Model visualizes HbA1c test results http://ow.ly/vNVXS #HbA1cAware @steffvfx #DOC

- A #PWD created a physical model of #HbA1c to bring innovation to #diabetes education. #HbA1cAware http://ow.ly/vPbmy @steffenvfx #DOC

- A man with #t1diabetes is forging a new path for #diabetes education. Help him bring it to life! #HbA1cAware http://ow.ly/vPbmy @steffenvfx #DOC

- I’m a kinesthetic learner and this would have benefitted me! #HbA1cAware http://ow.ly/vPbmy @steffenvfx #DOC #diabetes #diabeteseducation

- I support this #diabetes advocate as he paves a new way for people to learn about diabetes. #HbA1cAware http://ow.ly/vPbmy @steffenvfx #DOC

THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART

Rocking Coachella With Diabetes

Screenshot 2014-04-16 19.14.18

today i am heading out to coachella. it is a music festival in indio, CA near los angeles. it is four days of dancing in the hot hot sun.

before i get to the diabetes part of this post, i must disclose that the photo above came about because our only housemate who couldn’t attend needs to be there with us. i printed out her face and will have her in our photos. you’ll see more of them post festival.

now, back to business….

i’m ready to dance dance dance until i just can’t anymore. like any person looking forward to coachella, i’m wondering what to pack, how short is too short, how big of a water bottle i ought to bring. i’m feeling like my success will depend on how well i pack and mentally preparing for the days ahead.

on top of that non-d people stuff, i also have to pack the right medical supplies. i have to tell all my friends that the change in routine is going to require more diabetes-time. i’m going to have to pause a dancing streak to check check check. at some point, maybe more than once, i am going to have to reload my pumpy-dumpy-stuck-on-me with new insulin. my blood sugar may drop more because of the increased exercise, or it may be higher because i’m so afraid of lows. it’s going to be an interesting experience.

here is how i prepared:

1. packed about 10 times more than i would ever need in this period of time. after asking the women with diabetes Facebook group, i decided not just to bring pump supplies, but also MDI materials. these are my quantities:

1 insulin pump
5 reservoirs
5 quicksets
2 vials of humolog
1 insertion device
15 alcohol wipes
2 levimir pens
2 humalog pens
4 bottles of test strips (50 ea)

2. i created an image on instagram and tagged #diabetes asking if anyone with t1 was going to be at coachella. here is the response:
coachella
the conversation continued beyond that, but you get the idea.
it worked! one person with diabetes responded that he was going to be there and an advocate from another patient group is going also.

3. as i thought about clothing and other vain things pertaining to my trip, i started considering switching to injections for the festival. this way i wouldn’t have to worry about my pump getting knocked off while i’m dancing near (maybe too near) other people. after all, who likes the feeling of a swinging insulin pump?

as people with diabetes who have pumps (PWDWHP?), we know that a swinging pump isn’t the WORST thing, especially if it doesn’t rip out. BUT every time it happens and someone sees, they react like this:

or like this:

i’m all for a good laugh, but i don’t exactly want to gross anyone out or make anyone worry about my wellbeing.

despite my feeling that it might be good to switch to injections for the festival, i am likely going to stick it out with the pump.

here are 4 reasons why:

1. INSTANT FRIENDSHIP

when i see another person with diabetes (usually i notice a pump) i want to run over, give them a hug, and be best friends. this tendency is even stronger when i am in a place where PWDs are a teeny-tiny minority.

2. recovering from lows

as a lovely woman in the FB group suggested, if i go low i can just suspend my pump. there isn’t a way to do that while on injections. the last thing i want is to be faintish in the middle of a 30k crowd trying with all my might to choke down glucose tabs.

3. shots look different

i am going with my (non-d) friends who are used to me being on my pump. do i think they would react poorly to injections? certainly not, but it would change the time it takes me to be ready to go out somewhere or eat something. i’ve experienced that like with PDAs, people generally avert their eyes when i am injecting. it could be because they don’t like needles, but it could also be because they feel like it is something private. either way, in the off chance it would make someone i don’t know uncomfortable, i’ll generally avoid it.

4. i can

nuff said.

___________________________

if you have ever thought about switching from your current insulin therapy to another, why did you choose the way that you did?

also, if you are going to coachella, email me so we can have a diabetes meet up!

let me share this whole new world with you

there is much debate in the diabetes online (and offline) community about whether a person with diabetes ought to be considered or consider one self, “disabled”.

sharing my position on this is something i’ve been very weary of because my feeling is that it goes against the grain of the majority rule.

but alas, here it goes….

last month i celebrated the life of my dear friend hattie… at disneyland. while there, i declared myself disabled and followed where it led me…

Screenshot 2014-03-24 17.06.52

well aware that there are many differing opinions and feelings around this delicate issue, i want to first say that my perspective is neither correct nor incorrect because it really is an individual decision. i am not writing this post to convince you of anything, only to share how i linguistically cope and one of the perks of the madness.

Screenshot 2014-03-24 17.06.34
we can call diabetes whatever we want: a condition, a disease, a lifestyle, a motivator, a disability, a life circumstance, a bumpy road, anything

the language that serves me best is to call diabetes a disease. there is an organ in my body that literally doesn’t function as it should. for me, to call that major malfunction just a condition feels like an undermining of the severity of my ‘situation’.

i’m not sure i want to be a person who needs credit, BUT diabetes is a hell of a lot of work and receiving recognition for that work helps motivate the continuation of my efforts. calling diabetes a disease makes it sound as serious as it feels, as burdensome as it can be, as heavy as it weighs on the hearts of my family, friends, and life partner.

i don’t want diabetes to be something that stops me from doing anything i want to do, but if i am to speak honestly, there are things i don’t want to do because i have diabetes.

for example, i can’t get schwasted and pass out because i have diabetes, but i wouldn’t want to do that anyways because it would be dangerous for my health especially since i have diabetes.

the next question is does diabetes prevent me from participating in some activities? does it actually dis-able me?

i’ve landed on this answer: it can, when i allow it to and i am allowed to grant myself the freedom to choose when and which activities my own diabetes keeps me from pursuing.

there is no hard yes or no. there are not even activities that i x out completely, it is all on a case by case basis.

and i am going to repeat this bit because it is very important to me:

i am allowed to grant myself the freedom to choose which things my diabetes keeps me from pursuing each time an opportunity arises.

there are times when my diabetes and i decide that eating a cupcake is okay, there are other times when my diabetes and i decide that it isn’t.

being consistent to appease others only serves me so long as it serves me.

i am the only one who knows how i feel. you are the only one who knows how you feel. because of that self-evident fact, we must each be active agents and advocates for ourselves in the workplace, in school, in play. because of that, we must each wear the amount of humility necessary to live in accordance with the way we feel we want to live our lives.

we all have varying constitutions and thus our capacity to bare struggle varies. maybe joe can go to work even though his blood sugar was over 400 all night, but that doesn’t mean that i should be expected to push myself to the same degree. having a weak constitution doesn’t mean i’m a weak person, it just means i have to stay aware and feed my body what it needs to stay well.

so, yes. diabetes is a disability for me because i allow my diabetes to prevent me from doing things when i feel as though there is something i, in the moment, do not feel equipped to handle.

THUS, for me, being ‘disabled’ stands as a recognition of the fact that diabetes can be a barrier to success and serves as an allowance of time to heal when it does.

PLUS! accepting the term ‘disabled’ comes with perks like disneyland passes, national park free-camping passes, discounts on electric bills, extra care and priority picking classes in school, and more.

i haven’t always felt this way and i’m not certain that my thinking won’t again shift. for now, however, calling diabetes a disease and one that disables me in certain circumstances serves me and my self management goals.

what is your stance on this issue?
what language serves you in your current life circumstances and emotional landscape?
have you noticed any language shifts in yourself throughout your time as a person with diabetes?

please do share.

then she lit up a candle, and she showed me the way

dark treei’ve been applying for jobs.

why, right?
i have an amazing job already. i get to be with loving warm people and lancet (THE dog) gets to come to work with me everyday. i spend my time talking to people who live to support each other and being a part of that is like a grilled cheese, toasty on the outside and warm and gooey on the inside. maybe that analogy was a little off, but if you know how the #doc loves grilled cheese, then you understand.

alas, regardless, anyway, i am jumping states and must find work that i love elsewhere.

i’m writing this post because applying for jobs has prompted me to write about myself more than usual.

while digging into an intro for a position as community manager with uber, i began exploring the reasons behind my decision to pursue east asian religion and philosophy as a major in college. i realized that it was the first time i had ever written it out.

i’d like to share it here with you because it wasn’t a ‘practical’ major and as a person with diabetes (PWD), having a practical major that would put me into a job, (that would give me enough healthcare to pay for the supplies and doctor visits i need to live) right out of college almost steered me elsewhere.

this is what i wrote for the intro:

I am 23 and graduated from UC Berkeley with a BS in Comparative Religion in 2012. My emphasis was East Asian Religion and Philosophy. I forged this academic path because I was seeking a truly interdisciplinary approach to the study of that which is human. I know, I know… that last sentence was both very ‘Berkeley’ and very ‘hippie-esque’. Don’t depart now, there is good reason! After being diagnosed with diabetes at age 11, I began thinking about life in a ‘deep’ kind of way -(that’s what having a dysfunctional pancreas will do to you). That, along with being the introspective person I have come to be, led me to want to combine traditional academics with courses and programs that stimulated personal growth and development. For me, personal development came with understanding what drove others toward faith and belief, meditation and penance. I’m sure that was more than you wanted to know, BUT there’s more!

Since graduating in 2012, I have been working at a diabetes empowerment organization called the Diabetes Hands Foundation, serving at a local micro-brewery, and developing an online presence via my personal diabetes blog, writing profiles, and twitter account(s).

i felt really good after writing that. my voice was in it, and i discovered a few more things:

#1. i learn about my past and present self by writing. just like you, i’m ever changing and new attributes don’t always show themselves outright. some attributes, even positive ones come in the form of divots, invisible until you either get really close or physically put your hand in and feel it. my major is something i’ve always rolled my eyes while saying because i know my answer to the vexing follow up question, ‘no, i’m not exactly using my degree’. i know deep deep in my heart that i studied an area of academia that served my soul, but a bitterness toward explaining it kept me from feeling what was buried beneath.

#2. i fear that my efforts will not be valued. this may be a common fear, a societal fear, but it is certainly a fear that carries a potential deterrent effect. the subconscious and self-protective logic would be, “if i don’t try to do x, then i can’t be devalued for trying (or failing) x”. i’d be lying if i said that this logic had never lead me toward a faulty decision module with no potential healthy outcome. i can say though, proudly, that my general tendency is to push harder and not let that fear take the wheel.

…that is until #3 (that’s number three not hashtag 3), the third thing i learned through writing application intros…

#3. i live two different modes of diabetes self-management and they translate and spill over to other areas of life when they are in gear.

the first one, the productive but rather uninspired one is “don’t want to lose mode”. this mode shows itself through diet, in high carbs and more insulin. it shows itself through exercise with ‘it’s okay if i’m walking so long as i’m out here.’ this don’t want to lose mode means less thinking before doing and (thus) less intention in action. i’m a busy bee and stay productive, but my heart isn’t all there when i’m in this mode. i also am a little sensitive to delayed criticism, the kind that you only hear as criticism long after it’s been said.

the second, the over achieving full of passion, confident one is “want to win mode”. this mode shows itself through diet in green smoothies and ‘(insulin)free’ lunches. it shows itself through exercise with better preparation and a focus on the mental over the physical. want to win mode is about surpassing expectations and deserving a pat on the back for going above and beyond. i spend most of my time in this mode and am not easily knocked off, but i still am not certain of the blow that takes me down.

what i do know, is that the blow is diabetes related, because my management is always the first behavior to change gears.

i’m going to read through my past burnout related blog posts to find out if there is a common denominator. maybe there is a trigger that i have, thus far, been blind to.

perhaps there is an answer in the written history.

until next time,

move onward, my friend, onward.

hey soul sister

bear with me on this (non-d related) writing journey,

ramp

“Life is what occupies your mind at the time.”

A man once told me that. He said it within the body of a spoken paragraph intended as a precursor to the next four.

How peculiar a preface, as if to say that that which doesn’t involve the mind is disconnected from that which we consider to be most essentially ours.

Life.

Your life.

My life.

What begins as a simple pseudo-philosophical outlook on being concedes to something deeper with surprising complexity.

For if content and context form the contours of life, then one’s life is exclusively theirs. Yours. Mine. Hers. His. While this coincides with language structures, the human experience leads us to feel otherwise. We feel an intersection, connection, human to heart, human, to heart.

Look in and listen. Study the topography of another human’s emotionhood and discover that even the most basic values are built upon labyrinthine metaphors.

Like a good read. Open as teen, one thing. Open as adult, another. I comprehend what is relative to my existence in that place at that time. Yes.

Relativity.

Going further.

The logical compliment, the negation, of what life is not… According to the wise man’s logic:

Life is not that which does not occupy the mind at the time.

Strolling about town, I come upon a child and his mother, also strolling. In an act of mass impulse, thoughts of future children and livelihoods become narratives. Consumed by what may become, the question begs answer, if life is that which ocupies the mind, then does my life become what I imagine it to be in any given instance?

Assuming that it is, that my life is what I imagine it to be, then what is there that can be considered ‘not life’? For in each passing thought, for in each inquisitive moment begging to find “is this life”, by this maxim it is bound to be result in a yes, for it has entered the mind.

If life can be what one envisions it to be by occupying the mind of such things, then the negation cannot be true.

The wise man’s maxim rings loudly with the kind of value and validity we rally behind. We can logic our way into disbelief, but little can we do to say no to the kind of hopeful messages that encourage growth and progress. It is with great intensity such maxims to hold true. Growth and progress.

If life is what occupies your mind at the time, then life is what you imagine it to be filled with and made up of, unrestricted. You get to create the colors and shades, textures and shapes.

You get to drive the tale, the narrative, the way.

You get to be the author of your ever developing self and that authorship lends a sense of power to the individual.

You can be whatever you want to be, whoever you want to be, wherever you want to be, if you can just let it occupy your mind.

Thank you, wise man, for your exercise in couch philosophy and the inspiration to imagine a world of possibility right here from mine.

___

this piece was first published on medium: how peculiar a preface, how a false maxim can one-up the truth.

movin’ on up

yesterday this went viral on facebook:
Screenshot 2014-03-06 10.38.43

stuffed with doubt, my curiosity won over my hopes of not biting the bait.

i clicked.

i went in expecting to be underwhelmed and uninspired

BUT THEN…

mind blown

this is seriously cray cray crazy.

it is called Spritz and it could change the way we read FOREVER.

personally, i like books and the visceral experience of turning the pages, but for reading news and the like, this would be GRRRRRREEEEEAAAT!!

here is “The Science” behind it, which basically moves the words for you with the ‘optimal recognition point’ at the eye line. if you don’t have to move your eyes around to locate the

start out at 350wpm:
words moving

here is my only holdup: dry eyes.

watching that thing move so fast and not wanting to miss anything makes blinking happen less.

plus, when i try and remind myself to blink, i am so focused on blinking that i miss or forget the content.

even with the blinking con considered, i’m for it because now i can say i can read at 600 wpm and that makes me feel like this:

whaddup

what do you think?

i was left to my own devices

lungs
i’ve been experimenting with writing lately.

finding various channels to sort of ‘start fresh’ like you would in a new city.

it’s been a great exploration so far, and a very personal one.
so far, my writing has centered on itself.
yes.

i’ve been writing about writing.
but not like how-to’s or do’s and don’ts.
not like historical analysis
or a genre investigation…

nope. i’ve just been writing about the way that i write.

which is this:

i find a sentence that moves me, even though i am not sure why.
i flow from there.
by flow i mean write without stopping.
i sometimes jump back into an incomplete thought, if i feel taken by it’s lack of clarity.
when something ‘isn’t clear’ i have to elaborate or fix it so that i understand what i was trying to say.
that’s the self exploration squared.

i’ve already learned a lot. ex: i generally find a way to criticize myself, i use the rule of thirds, and i say ‘i’ a LOT.

it feels good to find the freedom to explore this sort of external introspection publicly.

examining the way i say something as apposed to what i say is really satisfying.
i can’t help but wonder what subject i will move onto once this one becomes exhausted.

in my most recent writing experiment, i felt a strong urge to find a way to rope in diabetes somehow. i tried ever so hard but came up fruitless.

at first thought, i felt a sense of failure. i couldn’t do something i wanted to do.
at second thought, i experienced a softening sense of success. for once the big D didn’t make the cut.

it got me thinking about why i’m writing about the way i write.
it got me thinking about a claim i’ve always made about my muse like it was an all in bet.

diabetes, or the anger and fear that resulted from my diagnosis is something i have always credited for my entry into the mysterious world of word.

i was feeling so much and had to get it out. i needed to feel it leave me physically and energetically through pen or keyboard.

i was feeling so many things i didn’t understand.

i was lost and coping.

i was attempting to find my way back to a state of being i couldn’t remember.

and i think i am trying to find that place again now, only this time…

diabetes doesn’t fit in.
and i suppose that makes sense because the state i of being i was in prior to diabetes was, well, diabetes free.

even finding a bit of clarity there, this unexpected blues is throwing me for a loop. diabetes has never failed to relate to anything in my book. diabetes relates to disneyland (#makessenseifyouhavediabetes) for goodness sake!

being okay with diabetes not being a part of this particular exploration is something i am learning.

with that said, i’m incredibly excited to meet the driver.

it’s some inspiration right in front of me, but just blurry enough to miss.

there is something else driving this experimentation and i just can hardly wait to find out what it is.

_ __ _____ __ _ _ ____ ____ _ __ _____ ________
side bar:

writing about your own writing is weird.

and now, here, i am writing about the weirdness of my tendency to write about my own writing.

yikes. what a mess.

i am writing some really cryptic shit.

does anyone know an analyst?

clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth

UPDATE !!! (2/27/14) : jesse had his first big relief today while spending time with his dad. he explained that all night and morning, there was a pain in his chest, likely the pleurectomy as the culprit. then, in a moment, the pain changed form and felt 10x better. he isn’t pain free, but he describes it as a 2 on a scale of 1-10. that’s the medical stuff and all signs of improvement.

now when it comes to feelings of the heart, we were both replenished this afternoon, when lancet came in to get some scratches and give some cuddles. here are the photos. prepare to be happy:

Happy Lancet w jesse

lancet jesse hands

Screenshot 2014-02-27 15.14.07

Lancet paws

faces come out of the rain

waiting room
it’s the stillness of an empty hospital waiting area that brings me to tears for the first time since grabbing jesse’s hand when the doctor uttered the words, “you’ll be admitted.”

at that time, both jesse and i equated the words to dollar signs.

how could we afford this? would his insurance cover the expenses or would he be going into health debt before entering the debt maze of medical school?

i feel a slight sense of shame for this, but what got me caught up then was the notion that we could no longer afford the vacation we have been planning. i was swelling with sadness that we wouldn’t get to take the month of may off and get lost in the beauty and stillness of the west coast together before taking the big life leap that comes with jumping states and embarking on a new chapter for the sake of partnership.

we’ve had our gloves up in the air, yearning for the chance to catch a break.

beginning to feel like a victim, i have to back track. i’m not the one in the chair, he is.

my thoughts begin to shift. i become present.

back in the waiting room.

there is a man to the right of me, across a sea of empty chairs. he is a big man, wearing a nice red shirt and a large ring. i sit here with him in this stillness. waiting. wondering. hoping.

i look at him and i see a man, trying either to or not to sleep. i wonder if he is tired, or just trying to make the time pass faster. just as i begin to imagine how he is feeling and whom he is waiting for, a nurse comes out to him and says, “your wife wanted me to tell you that she has about three hours of surgery and so you should eat something, okay?” he grumbles with a slight nod.

with only that, i feel connected. i feel glued to my seat. right there with him. waiting. seeking news like it’s my life on the line.

i wipe my face clean of make-up strokes and consider everything in it’s right place.

1. jesse was laid off two weeks ago. he has time to recover.
2. his insurance lasts until march 31st. he has coverage to be healed.
3. he has a 6k out of pocket max, which is relatively small compared to the 200k bill he will be expecting.
4. i’ve been able to stay with him every night
5. he has an overwhelming number of friends and family members coming in to support him
6. we have online friend support to top it off
7. we have each other

i look back to the man in the red shirt and wonder if his way of coping leaves him without hunger and am thus reminded of my own. so i get up from behind the veil of the screen, and make my way to the cafeteria. i buy myself a bag of pretzels, some dried fruit, a cookie, and two kinds of iced tea.

i buy him a sandwich and a bottle of water.

without being able to muster up the courage to speak, i hand him the sandwich, walk away, reclaim my chair and pull back up the screen.

i let the tears fall again as i sit down, and from across the sea of empty chairs break bread with a perfect stranger.

i know what it feels like to not help myself because i’m waiting and nervous.
i know what it feels like being unable to help.
i know what it feels like to feel taken care of when you’ve mostly yet just felt alone.

in this moment, a tiny smile, or at least the feeling of a smile creeps up and i sense the relief.

waiting, wondering, hoping, with someone else, makes it all a little easier.

together knowing, everything will be good again soon.

____ _ ___ ____ ______ _ _____ _ ____ __ ____ __

SIDEBAR: Jesse is doing very very well. He had a small pneumothorax for the second time on Monday night and was admitted to the hospital for observation. After being administered O2 for 24 hours, and not seeing improvement in x-ray or CT scans, Jesse was seen by the main thoracic surgeon here at John Muir Hospital. Jesse is expected to have what is called a bleb. lung
It is a piece of lung tissue that looks similar to bubble wrap. A bubble can pop under physical stress and that is what the doc thinks caused the pneumothorax to begin with. The surgery will remove the bleb section of the lung tissue and staple the top of the lung back together.

Here is the drawing the surgeon made for us, which unintentionally ended up looking like a very happy lung:

Jesse is currently in surgery and I’m sitting in the waiting (and writing) room right now. I will post an update when I can after Jesse gets out. I am fully expecting him to recover with ease and come out stronger than before.

UPDATE! (2/26/14) – Jesse is out of surgery and in the recovery room! He is expected to be awake very soon and back in his hospital apartment room within the hour. I can’t wait to see him and all the funny things he will probably say while woozy from the anesthesia. More updates as they come. Bonus: There are a bunch of pictures of Jesse’s insides that I am going to frame and hang in my house. #winning

Update!!(2/27/14)- Jesse was hilarious coming out of surgery last night. As he was wheeled in he said, ‘the hero has arrived’ with his usual joke telling tone. It wasn’t an easy night, nor a restful one, but it did come with a lot of improvement. This morning Jesse got a plate full of yummy breakfast food, ate the bacon first and then shared that he felt like he had just had a thanksgiving dinner. He is asleep now and feeling good. :-) so all is well and on schedule. He should be ready to go home tomorrow night or Saturday morning.

Being Addicted to Poetic Prose: Why I’ll Never Be a Successful Writer

DSC_0073 1

Originally published on my Medium page.

It is with a rhythm that I scribe, a cadence one better. With pauses and causes and intentions, I spill.

I want to tell you how I feel before I tell you what it is I’m reacting to because that is how I make meaning from surroundings.

I want to show you my internal intricacies as I discover them myself because I don’t often know what I am thinking until I write it; until I scatter the peices, figure out how they fit together and convert the image back into language.

I’ll never write successfully because this journey, from me to me and then to you isn’t succinct enough to stick.

It may afford relief to get out and to read, but at the end you and I, we, we may come to find that it is void of content, that there is no movement from there to here. We may find that in order to create a distance, to prove a point, a departure from this rhythm is required.

But I can’t learn to walk again, can I? My knees tilt slightly inward as I pace and I can’t remember to fix it. My awareness fades after the first block and it’s back to basics. Knees tilted.

This is my voice and I’ve had it since I was old enough to react to my own reactions.

I can’t learn to speak again, can I?

Teach me how, and I’ll find a way around it. I’ll bend it, twist it, mend it. Give me the fabric and I’ll make a quilt of leaves and flowers. I’ll reveal my layers before telling you I’m about to and leave you wondering what the hell that was about.

I’m speaking underwater, baited by the temptation that you just might understand the very simple word I am trying to learn to say. Fill my nose with water, attempting time and time again.

You wont hear me until I come out of the water and share that I was trying to say “Fear.”

Fear has kept me from breaking out of what I am good at. Here, poetic and cryptic, I don’t have to have a conclusion and the meaning can flow after. Here, a flawed plan is magic and revealing. Here, lies the warmth and comfort I’ve always needed to stand naked and raw in a crowded place where all but few passerbys walk with closed eyes.

I’ll never be a successful writer because the beauty and details of my blanket takes too long to see and I refuse to exchange it.