I feel loved.

I spent the bulk of my day at work yesterday trying to fend off a panic attack. I was wondering when those were going to start up again. I was hoping I would make it through the next two months without one, but I know better.

After work, I decided to be proactive and I went around to some stores in FW and bought supplies, mostly for my medical kit. It was kinda fun! I felt much better, just taking small actions instead of thinking about the big picture. First, I rummaged through all my medical supplies at home, which led to me organizing my bathroom. Whenever I feel like things are getting out of control, I like to organize. It gives me great satisfaction to put everything in its place.

I've been freaking out about how I'm going to transport my diabetic supplies, but yesterday I bought a little cooler and some ice packs, which I think will do the trick for my insulin. So that helps me breathe easier. And, it was so cute, Dave helped me out! I went over there for dinner (Mom and Dave had fresh clams from their weekend at the ocean--yummy!) and was talking about my supply adventure, and Dave brought out an array of duffle bags. I chose one that was small enough to be a carry-on, but big enough to fit the bulk of my diabetic supplies! You could tell he was really pleased with himself to be helping me out. It was so darling. For all the ups and downs of our relationship, I know he really does care about me. So that was a nice reminder.

Also, my stepsister-in-law is letting me take her backpack, which I finally picked up yesterday. It's pretty amazing that she's letting me take it for a year! Just seeing it helped me picture how I would make everything fit, and again, it calmed my nerves. I really have to be able to see how something is going to work to be able to relax about it.

It feels really good to have people rallying to support me and help me out right now. I feel loved.

Fucking doctors!

Okay, I have had my fill of doctors today. This is a pretty touchy subject to begin with, since I have been seeing them for most of my life pretty regulary, have had some bad experiences, and have become rather opinionated on the topic in general.

To start at the beginning, I had an appointment for a physical today because I have to get this health form filled out for my program. It basically says that whatever the conditions of my health are, they won't affect my ability to participate in the program. So, I don't have a general practitioner, because I don't really trust most doctors to begin with, and when something happens to me medically, I just want to see my endo (doctor specializing in diabetes, which for me is my nurse practitioner, whom I love and have known since I was 7 and who has diabetes herself by the way so she knows what the fuck she's talking about!). So, I called because I have an appointment with her soon and I wanted her to fill out the health form, but her assistant said she probably couldn't because there may be some questions she wouldn't be able to answer. So I go to a family medicine guy, and he actually has his resident take care of me, which is fine, but goddamn I hate talking about my diabetes with general practitioners. They never know what the fuck they're talking about and act all concerned over stuff that happens on a daily basis and that is pretty normal when you're living with diabetes. For example, she was asking me about my bloodsugars (which for the record are the best they've ever been in my whole life, a feat I've worked particularly hard to achieve). She asked me if I ever go high and low, and I was like, uh, yeah, like almost every day. And she made "concerned face," and asked me how low I get, and I told her, you know, sometimes 50 or 60, because, come on, you do! And then she made "extra-concerned face," and I said, "Look, it would be wonderful if my bloodsugars could be perfect and balanced all the time, but that's really not realistic when you live with diabetes every day. There are factors that I cannot control that sometimes lead to high and low bloodsugars." And then she said, "Well, we understand that, but we just want to make sure it's not something that's happening to you at night, when you wouldn't be waking up or something." So then I said, "Okay, well, I've had this disease for over 18 years, and I've never had a seizure or gone into diabetic coma, which I think is pretty great. Any concerns I have or problems that I need to work out are done with my nurse practitioner, because she has known me since I was really little and I trust her. So I think I'm okay." I didn't mean to be so confrontational, but there's very little I hate more in life than being lectured on how to take care of myself by someone that has no fucking clue what living with diabetes is actually like.

Fucking bitch. I hope her pancreas breaks like mine did in 1989. Then she can tell me about low and high bloodsugars, and I would think about listening to her.

My mother, my hero

Yesterday I went to a travel medicine clinic for a consultation on South American travel. Man, there are a lot of sick ways to die! It's pretty intimidating to be explicitly and matter-of-factly told of all the things that can go wrong with you. I really liked the doctor, though (btw, I never like doctors), and I was pretty excited when I left the clinic, I think because it just makes my departure feel that much more real. Now I have many supplies to buy. Oh, and I got a typhoid vaccination yesterday. My arm is sore today...like when you get a flu shot. Also, I have to choose the malaria medication I'm going to take, and I don't know what to do. The one that's the easiest to take can cost $5/day, but the one I can afford has ten million side effects. Man, do I hate mosquitos. Are they really necessary in life?

Also, my mom is the coolest. As has been apparent, I'm pretty stressed about my finances. The other night over dinner, she offered to give me the remaining balance of my program fee...and I was like, Mom, no. But we couldn't get into it because Dave was around and apparently he takes issue with Mom giving me money. But we were on the phone yesterday, and she brought it up again and told me I couldn't argue with her. I just get concerned, though, because she's already taking on the burden of my health insurance premium, my rent, my debt...which totally makes me feel guilty, btw. Oh, and did I mention she doesn't have a job right now? I just feel like a perpetual child, being tied financially to my parents as I am. I rarely ask them for help, but they offer it, and I always, always feel guilty for taking it. Not only do I feel like I'm robbing them of their retirement funds, but I also feel like it's an implicit concession that I cannot take care of myself. Any perceived hit at my independence and self-sufficiency always leads directly to some sort of meltdown as I question my self-identity. I could take care of myself, actually, but I wouldn't be able to do things like AmeriCorps or volunteer in Chile, which is really all I want to do right now. I probably could do it if I didn't have this damn diabetes costing me money all the time. I just feel horrible, because it's like, I decide to do this Chile thing, and then my mom ends up paying for it. And I know I can count on her, because she always bails me out. Every time. While I was worried about finances on one hand, on the other I was like, oh well, my parents won't let me starve in South America. I know I'm lucky to be able to say that, but knowing I think that way bothers me at the same time. I just feel like I owe them so much. I know that's what you do when you have kids, especially a defective one. But christ, it would be nice to stand on my own for once. When I get back. Maybe. Yeah, definitely when I get back. Mom made this darling speech, though, about how she knows living abroad has been a dream of mine, and how she just wants me to be happy and how this trip is going to be the most amazing time of my life and she wants to be able to help make it happen for me. It brought tears to my eyes. Mom is the best. I don't know what I would do without her. She's been so great lately, in so many ways. I can't imagine not seeing her for almost a year.

Incidentally, I was reading Time this morning and there was a picture of a volcano exploding in Chile. Have I ever mentioned how much I love volcanoes? I think they're amazing. I freaking can't wait to see some up close. When I was younger, my parents took Brandon and me on a hike near Mt. St. Helens, and I thought it was fascinating--the power and the devastation. I've always wanted to go back there, but I've never made it happen. This one in Chile, though, was spewing lava. Lava, man! Lava!

I freaking cannot wait for this adventure!

Boom boom, ain't it great to have diabetes!

The excellent news is that I have now raised $2,025 for my program fee! I'm prettymuch awesome, as it turns out. Even more awesome are my friends and family, with their generous donations!

Less awesome is that two years of AmeriCorps sucked me dry financially, and now I'm comitted to spending another year as a poor-ass volunteer. Oh well, it's all about the location. Oh, and maybe helping people. Maybe.

Oooh, I totally snapped at my mom on accident last night. I'm always doing that, by the way, and I always feel guilty afterwards, but cannot seem to stop myself. I think I've just been doing it for so long now that it's instinctual. She was just trying to talk to me about my trip preparation, in the sweetest mom-way possible. She asked me about how I was planning to transport my diabetic supplies, and I told her I don't know, and she had a follow-up question, and I lost it and snapped at her. God I'm such a beast! I'm going to be devastated when she's not around for me to snap at next year. I know it's true. The thing is, though, I have no idea how I'm going to transport my diabetic supplies, and the fact that I don't know is always in the back of my mind, stressing me out. And really, I don't want to discuss it. I'll just figure it out when the time comes, and until then, I do not want to think about it.

It's not really like me to avoid making plans, but when it comes to diabetes, I like to not think about it and all its attendant complications whenever possible. Confronting the realities of this trip, actually, makes me really frustrated to be diabetic. It's like, dammit, why do I have to deal with all the extra stress and complications? It's just such a pain in the ass. I still have to contact the insulin pump supplier in Chile. I still have to figure out how I'm taking all my supplies with me. I still have to figure out the cash-flow situation that will enable me to buy all my prescriptions out-of-pocket until I can file claims with my insurance company and be reimbursed. I still have plenty of time to worry about all the illnesses that I will catch due to my bum immune system. I still have to worry about adjusting my body and insulin dosages to different living conditions, different meals, different schedules. I'm also nervous about going a year without checking in with my doctor. I've never gone that long without guidance! Really, I'm not in the mood. It's not really that I feel sorry for myself, but I just get so tiiiiired of dealing with it. I can never escape or take a break from diabetes. Well, if I do, I feel like garbage. It's exhausting to micromanage every facet of my life. I won't even have my diabetic buddies in Chile with me! I'll probably have to call Heather a couple times, just to piss and moan. Yeah, that'll do.

In other news, I made a decision. It's kind of big. I'm delaying graduate school for another year. I've been thinking about it in the back of my mind lately, but I didn't realize I had made a decision until I said it out loud to Meagan on Friday night. Then I told Beth on Saturday. They were both really supportive. On the whole, I feel much better about things. I haven't been getting the best guidance in terms of advice from people in the field, and I've been pretty lackluster about putting things together on my own. I feel so rushed by having to make decisions about programs, get together material for my letters of recommendation, work on personal statements and what have you. I don't like to be rushed. I'd rather be methodical, organized. And I feel like maybe a year away will change my mind about what I want to do. I will certainly be able to write better essays. When I was looking at programs, I was feeling really pressured to know what policy arena I'm interested in, and I still feel uncomfortable having to choose between domestic and international policy. I think Chile will help me figure some of this out, and delaying for another year takes the pressure off. I don't want to do what I ended up doing with undergrad: just applying blindly to schools and making a decision based on location instead of substance. Not that I didn't love SU...but this is my career. I want to be properly prepared and informed. I just feel so much better already that I know I'm making the right decision.

I can't believe I'm leaving in two months. If I have to miss my brother's birthday, I'm going to be pissed!

I could have stopped there...

Last night I read a profile of a London politican, the Conservative party candidate for mayor Boris Johnson. He is described as "bumbling," which I kind of like, although I am cynical enough about politicans to believe that he has spent a lot of energy cultivating an image of himself as such. But he said something that I really connected with: "Things come into my head that I find simply impossible not to say, and then all sorts of chaos breaks out. But I think it's much better that way than endlessly prerehearsing, sanitizing, homogenizing, pasteurizing everything you say to the point of macrobiotic extincition." He just wants to be real, man.

I get it. I have this philosophy, which I developed when I was about 19, that I would never regret anything I said or did impetuously, because it was an honest reflection of how I was feeling at the time. I have that impulse Boris Johnson talks about--the need to say something the moment it comes to me, even if chaos will ensue. Partly, it's like: I'm thinking this, and if I have to deal with it, so do you. I look back at things I said or did when Shane and I were breaking up that were really stupid and immature, but that's where I was at then. At least I was honest with myself and with him about what I was feeling. It's when I hold back that I tend to have regrets. My brother told me recently, "Tiff, I see you holding back a lot lately. It's not like you." He was right. It was a good reminder.

My commitment to authenticity gets me in trouble sometimes. My brother and dad, in particular, are pretty critical of my moodiness. But I just don't feel I should be expected to dress up my moods to suit other people. If I'm my authentic self all the time, it's not going to be pretty. But don't take it personally--my moods have nothing to do with you.

It's really important to me that people are authentic. I've had a hard time with the presidential candidates because I don't feel like any of them are genuinely behind what they tell people. I know this is not a revolutionary realization about politicians. They all tailor their messages, themes, images based on thier audience. Being conscious of your audience is an effective form of persuasion. I realize that's how it has to be done to earn a nomination. It just makes it really difficult to feel like I can support someone who tells me one thing, and then tells a different group something else. How will I know what you really believe, which is all that matters when you're actually in office? What is the point of such a flawed system? Basically, you have to lie to get into power. The public is partly to blame; we say we want honesty, but do not react well when we're told things that we don't want to hear.

I always want the truth, no matter how difficult or hurtful it may be. I need it. One of my favorite Margaret Atwood quotes is about how people always choose the truth, even knowing it's accompanied by pain. Oh, wait. I found it in one of my old journals. It's from her novel The Blind Assassin:

"I could have stopped there. I could have chosen ignorance, but I did what you would have done. I chose knowledge instead. Most of us will. We'll choose knowledge no matter what, we'll maim ourselves in the process, we'll stick our hands into the flames for it if necessary. Curiostiy is not our only motive: love or grief or despair or hatred is what drives us on. We'll spy relentlessly on the dead, hoping for a hint, a final word, an explanation, from those who have deserted us--who've left us holding the bag, which is often a good deal emptier than we'd supposed."

I feel like those lines are about me. I have an obsession with knowledge and information. I need the truth, even if it seemingly changes nothing, and I'm not afriad to be hurt in the process. It connects to my preoccupation with time. I feel like life is one big time crunch as I try to cram as much as possible into a small bit of space. I'd rather not waste time operating on assumptions that are not true. And there's no reason to put it off, especially if it's going to hurt. It's like Claire Danes says in Shopgirl: "I could hurt now, or hurt later. Now, I guess."

Now, I guess. Indeed.