On hope.

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”

Martin Luther King said that. Talk about someone who understood finite disappointment.

I can’t even quantify the amount of disappointment that I’ve had to deal with this week. Relationship (still, I know, I’m working on it), work, school, life in general… in fact, the only thing that hasn’t been going horribly wrong is my diabetes care. For once in the time we’ve been together, D seems to be behaving itself when I need it to the most.

I want to write about hope today because I had a moment last night while hanging out with friends. Some asked me what time it was, so I pulled out my pump to look, and he says, “I didn’t know you were diabetic.” It cuaght me off guard because I was pretty sure that almost all of my friends were aware about D. I like to keep an open channel with folks mostly because it means less explaining when things go wrong. And they do, sometimes. “Oh yeah,” I said, “I’ve had it for a couple of years.” (I felt like a superhero revealing my secret identity.) He smiled. “That’s really cool.”

Whoa.

You’re right, handsome male friend. It is cool. It is SO COOL.

It filled me with such hope to know that I really am more than this disease. It is sometimes so difficult to see myself through the diabetes mess, but to know that someone saw me, in that moment, as just plain old me is so… refreshing. While I’m not ready to date again quite yet, I feel like this little moment of hope infused me with the strength to accept that others are going to accept me. Diabetes is a tough pill to swallow — believe me, I know. I can imagine that finding out that the person you are romantically interested in has D is almost like what we went through at diagnosis. But I also hold out on the hope that there is someone out there who will accept my D as a part of me because, well, it is just that. I’ve said it before: love me, love my diabetes. (Like you have a choice, anyway.) We’re a package deal. No promise that it’s going to be easy, but we’ll make it.

I’m going to go watch (read: cry over) some more videos over at the You Can Do This Project.
If you’re living with D yourself, or love someone who does, you need to hear what these folks have to say.

Life is beautiful. 🙂

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