it’s a matter of perspective. they say that, don’t they?

this week, i’ve fallen through the cracks in a few areas of life and bloomed in a few others. imagine a scene with no green anywhere and a cracky surface like in the lion king before the stampede, with one little flower poking through…

i guess that’s the reality, and transcending it hasn’t been my pattern so far.

i told my man (yes, i’m ‘attached’) that i know i am headed down a one-way street, straight to meltdown city. but then  getting on top of recognizing my pre-meltdown behaviors. i see patterns, the way i pretend my feet don’t hurt, the way i eat a grilled cheese everyday because i cannot fathom of another way to treat myself given my scheduling time restraints.

may i share? might i confide in you about the stressors of my life, which by the end of this will seem somehow smaller, and less filled with doom? may i take a moment to breathe through this mini vent-ilation.

i am working three jobs. i work at the diabetes hands foundation, at triple rock brewery, and at diabetes ( which yes, IS a job).

i am working from 60 to 65 hours a week. carrrazy right?

i took on the hours thinking ‘I’m an adjustable creature, i’ll get used to it and soon be saying ‘aint no thang’. if there is one thing i know about myself, it is that i am a workaholic. in school i take too many classes, sign up for too many clubs, and lead too many events. i overwork myself all the time. maybe being stressed is a part of my nature and i subconsciously know that being stressed from being busy is better than being stressed from being bored. the stress is there no matter what..

so, i’m here… overworked by choice, complaining about being overworked by choice, too.

im a vat of contradictions and inconsistencies refusing to be loosened up. (hence the headed for a meltdown)

When this happens, i -slowly but surely- willingly and also somehow unknowingly, give up, up and away my power. i give it away for free and then allow myself to go a step further and feel robbed of it, pointing a finger of blame anytime  my mind tricks me into believing an intruder has caused some sort of trauma.

i have come to learn from years and years of this exact approaching meltdown-tastic implosion of emotion and ‘hot-mess-ness’ that the ONLY proprietor of my sadness, unhappyness, upsetness, whatever!, is ME! what i have learned is that if i hold my power, if i take full responsibility for the way i feel, THAT is when i can start to make change.

so, i’m over here now, saying ‘alright, enough’

that’s MY perspective and they say there are many. even in the thick of the forrest of grief and gloom and powerlessness, that blue light reaches me with an open hand and says,

“find your power….check your blood sugar FIRST, then go to work”

transcending? i’ll keep you posted.

ABC’s- guess who can sell alcohol. iiiiiiiiiiii can.  

today i ventured into a -not-so-great- part of oakland to attend a class/training of how to and not-to sell booze. (pretty funny given my recent alcohol experience with my roommate, Robin.  

the class was simple, and sort of entertaining. the kind of ‘entertaining’ that comes from being interested in the way a person you haven’t encountered before talks and behaves. i have to admit something to myself, today….

i have a tendency to place people in categories based on the way their face moves. if i see a girl that moves her mouth and face the way my friend jackee does, then i expect them to be sweet and a little wild. if i meet someone who moves like my mother, i expect them to be confident and self-effacing. today, seeing someone who didn’t fit any of my facial expression profiles, sort of threw me off. 

her speech was flowy, animated, and surprisingly scripted. it seemed like she did this everyday, but it was simultaneously characterized. when she emphasized, her mouth opening leaned to one side. her voice was vintage, her expressions dated, like she has been practicing in the mirror to 40’s movies. 

where was she from? why was she a police officer?… i spent about 50 percent of the time in class imagining her life story. it was a quite enjoyable three hours. 

after leaving the class, i walked back to my car (named ‘johnson’ for reason i shouldn’t share here) and began to drive away. 

it was a nice, easy drive back to work. Here’s the kicker…

As i approached my office, i passed a cafe where this Furby was sitting, looking stood up and frankly quite sad. his yellow body and blue mohawk brought me back to my childhood, when i was diabetes-free. and yes… there was a time when i was diabetes-free. 

had i not learned my ABC’s, had i not gone strait to work and fudged my first two attempts at parallel parking, this  furry friend would not have reminded me of life before, of my history. 

long story, well, long… the universe affirms me of my place within its matrix from time to time. like today. i was where i should’ve been. i have what i should have, and i am being who i ought and want to be. 

unexpected blues-ie bliss…

And i used that light to find my way

last night, while working as a server at Triple Rock, i almost peed my pants….

like always in the food industry, there is rarely a moment to get away.

i waited as long as i could (about forty minutes), meanwhile dancing and walking fast to keep the dam from breaking, and finally asked a fellow server to watch my tables.

i swiflty skipped into the ladies room, pulled down my shorts, hovered over the toilet and released.

Guess what!?!…..mid-stream!… I kid you not…

… the lights went out. the entire restaurant was out of power.

Really?! in all honesty, i’ve been afraid of bathrooms since i can remember. maybe it was that scene in Spice World where the dude climbs out of the toilet, or the Bloody Mary practical jokes i grew up with… either way, bathrooms for me? no bueno!

I was calmed a little by the sound of everyone in the restaurant collectivly going through what you would expect from an outage: collective gasping and a few mild yelps, then the loud collective ‘aw’, then collective growing hoops, hollering, and laughter.

anyway!, i zipped up real quick, intentionally didn’t flush and ran out as fast as i could. i reentered the rastaurant during the part of an incident like this where a few people get in a good one-liner. such as “I normally eat in the dark.” chuckles followed.

unexpected blue?

i am a pumper. and what can i say.. pump’s got a light. a blue light. And i used that light to find my way (and read receipts).

this night reminded me of three things:

1. pee when you get the urge the first time, or the lights may go out

2. life is exciting an expected

3. doing the whole ‘diabetes’ thing is hard, but from time to time, it pays you back for all the work you do. sometimes it helps you find the way.

on friday, august 28th, my roommate faced a life transition. She turned 21. 

what is a 21st all about here? whether you like it or not, it’s about booze booze booze and more booze. it’s about going out and getting shwasted… and hammered… and toasted… and drunk drunk drunk. it’s about getting obliterated. it’s about not being able to get out of bed for two days. it’s about going to bar after bar, slamming drink after drink, until your speech is so slurred it sounds like you are singing. it’s also about learning  that frequented “i’ll never drink again”

in preparation of the big night, i did some reflecting and came to the conclusion that well, shoot. i’m a diabetic and i was then too!  on my 21st, not THAT long ago, i felt a desire to have that 21 experience. BUUUUUT, i knew for me it wasn’t a good thing. so, i settled for two drinks at a bar down the street and called it a night. in that reflecting i wondered how i would feel about the night after the fact.

here i am to tell you what i learned.

i can have a 21st experience and have it not be ‘mine’.  i guess i was under the impression before that I, and yes, that is a capital “I” needed to be the one to have all the special experiences. “I” need it to happen for ME. BUT i watched Robin down FOURTEEN; drinks. after the first eight, she had to let some of it go… if you know what i mean. THEN, she rallied! she drank six more! Robin is also not a drinker. this was a LOT for her. i got to be with her, while she ran-no sprinted!- towards the lesson learned, “i’ll never drink again”

When Robin, her sister, and I, set out for the night, i wasn’t expecting to feel so fulfilled at the end. 

i’m grateful. i’m happy, full, and ready to see how else my new knowledge can apply.

wait, can someone else take my insulin for me!? haha.

i’m okay being diabetic forever, and the experiences i’m swayed from because of the big D are okay, too- as long as i have friends and family to be with.

ah, warm feelings… 

wednesday is pottery day. the one day a week i set aside to exercise my creativity in a hands on kind of way. i’ll post some pictures of my work eventually. this pot, the one that is lava right there… it isn’t one of mine. 

but i am posting this photo because something triggered in my mind when i watched that hot pot get pulled from the oven of lava. i remembered a moment in India last summer.

my friend jeremy asked me “is your tea somewhere between lava and the sun?”. my answer was yes, after having burnt my mouth figuring it out. we laughed about it for a while and it kept coming back up during the month of travel, always followed by laughter.

my unexpected blue? With Jeremey and the other friends i made while in India, diabetes wasn’t a big deal. it was kind of seamless. i was on injections. no bulky pager and site to change, no beeping. just taking a quick shot under the table before meals.

a wave of pride washed over me when i saw that lava pot being pulled from the kiln. i had no complications while in india. i am a diabetic, but no one would have known if i didnt want them too. 

this brings me to the big blue unexpected blue…

i’m pretty sure this has occured to many many other people. BUT, diabetes is invisible. invisible to future friends, bosses, family, anyone i choose not to tell. 

okay… 

BUT! i tell EVERYONE about my diabetes. i have ‘diabetic’ tattooed on my arm. it’s me. i’m it. we are inseparable. to not tell would be like having a conjoined twin and ignoring them. 

i’m all over the place, but you get me right?

i choose to share that i’m diabetic, but if i didn’t WANT to, no one would know. pluses and minuses of that, i suppose.

Welcome to Unexpected Blues! i’m just another diabetes blogger, looking for an outlet for whatever it is that i feel at the time.

Gettin’ personal when i shouldn’t, connecting, buzzing, reviewing.

catch my drift?