My Thoughts on Moving from MA to VA

In the last few weeks, I’ve told most people in my life that I will be moving to Virginia (from Massachusetts) at the end of March. I have a lot of feelings about making the move: anxiety, excitement, anticipation, fear, optimism, and curiosity are chief among them.

And naturally, one of my top concerns is how my diabetes will adjust to my move. I imagine that the first week or so will be the most challenging. Between moving boxes and setting things up inside, I’ll be doing quite a bit of strenuous physical activity. It’s not that I’m not used to it (I exercise pretty much every day), or that I’ll have to do it alone (my boyfriend, who I’m moving in with, is going to help). It’s more so that I’m worried about the emotions I’ll be experiencing as I go through the moving-in process…and how those emotions will manifest themselves in my blood sugars. The “what ifs” keep running through my mind. What if I have trouble getting my prescriptions? What if I can’t find the right health-care team for me in Virginia? What if my diabetes struggles with the change? What if, what if, what if?

Succulent Sundays
Moving is an emotional process that can affect more than just mental health.

Don’t get me wrong – I really am excited to make this move. I’ve lived in the same small town my entire life, and though my love for it and the people who live there will never waver, it’s time to see what else is out there. And it’s really time to stop sustaining a long-distance relationship with my boyfriend. The last four years have been exhausting as we’ve traveled back and forth to visit each other for fleeting periods of time.

But I do know myself, and I remember quite clearly how I handled going off to college for the first time. I cried. For like, three days straight. I also marveled at the dining halls and the endless options available to me. Translation? I let my emotions drive my food choices and, in turn, my blood sugars suffered. But then…I started getting into a routine. I ate meals more regularly. I started exercising. I kept my mind occupied. And I started meeting new people and forming friendships that I cherish to this day. I grew from a naive teenager into a young adult with her shit *somewhat* together who started to accept a lot more responsibility in life. I finally became accountable for my diabetes in a way that I never was before, and even though it scared me initially, I recognize that it was ultimately exactly what I needed to do.

So I’m seeing the parallels here between my transition to college and my current transition with this move. I know that I’ll cry and be scared and miss my family and friends, but I also know that it’ll get easier as I establish my rhythm. The same can be said about my diabetes – it may protest in the beginning and be turbulent and unpredictable, but I’ll tame the savage beast…because I always find a way to.

Here’s to a new chapter in my life, one marked by more independence, self-growth, and positive change. And my goodness, here’s to frequent flier miles and the fact that home will always be one short plane ride away. Massachusetts can’t get rid of me that easily.

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T1D and the Workplace: Feeling Envious of Coworkers with Professional Pancreases

I’m envious of people with functioning pancreases.

It goes without saying, but they don’t have to worry about all the things that PWD have to worry about. They can live life with a little more spontaneity. They don’t have to do as much math. They don’t have to lug around test kits and glucose tablets and strips and needles and whatnot at all times. They don’t have to hide their emergency snack stashes from their coworkers – well, okay, maybe they do, depending on some office environments.

They don’t have to worry about minute things, like “is my pod going to start beeping” or “is my blood sugar going to go low or high” during a very important meeting with a very very high-up executive.

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Conference room or anxiety-inducing room?

I’m envious of my coworkers, who were able to just sit there and listen to the executive speak when he made a special visit to the office last week. I was as attentive as I could be throughout the nearly 90-minute meeting, but I was definitely a bit anxious in there without any of my devices. I’d left them all at my desk to avoid awkward questions from the executive. I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded their presence, had he known they were medical devices, but still…I just didn’t want to deal with it.

I’m envious that a meeting is just a meeting to some people, but for a person with diabetes like me, it can trigger fear and concern and a gamut of other emotions regarding blood sugar/diabetes issues in the workplace alone – forget other social situations.

It goes to show that diabetes is never far from my mind, even in situations when I really want or need it to be. I wish my diabetes knew how to act more professionally.

But I guess from practically the beginning, my diabetes – or shall I say, my pancreas – was unprofessional. After all, my pancreas quit on me only four years into the job.

What a lazy jerk.