Just a warning to all men in my future: I come with accessories.
No, they’re not your typical female-type shoe collections or extensive makeup cases, although I do own both. And it’s definitely not limited to the usual past relationship emotional baggage (which I also happen to have). I actually come fully equipped with an arsenal of doctors, a bevy of prescriptions, and the flex spending account to prove it.
My diabetes is going to be the red-headed stepchild in our relationship. You’re going to have moments where you hate it for how frustrated it makes me. You’re really going to dislike how tough it makes things like going on vacation and eating out. It’s going to be an adventure planning and preparing to have children someday.
But you know what? I don’t expect you to love everything about my diabetes. Honestly, when it comes down to it, I just want you to love me for me! Yes, diabetes and I are kind of a package deal, but it is definitely only one very small part of who I am, and it definitely doesn’t define me. I had 23 years to form an identity before Big D showed up, and I’m not going back on it now!
I also ask that you be patient with me. I’m going to have equal moments of rage and sadness. I’m not always going to feel like testing or doing insulin. I’m going to have astronomical highs and catastrophic lows. And I’m going to need you to be there. I do a good job of taking care of myself, but every once and a while I’m going to need someone to deliver me a swift kick in the rear and remind me why I put up with this stuff every day.
Love me, love my diabetes.
I can’t promise that it will be easy.