I write this poem with extreme thanks for the blessed life that I’ve led, a carefree childhood and loving family. I recognize that Mother’s Day isn’t rainbows and butterflies for many people: mothers that have lost their children, children that have lost their mothers, broken families, reality. Even in my family, there’s an element of sadness on this day. My parents buried their first child when she was 16 months old. This is also the first Mother’s Day since my Grandma Genny died.
It’s easy to forget that many many emotions surround this day and where one family smiles another might cry. It’s important to empathize and take a moment to think about the true weight of this day. I find it allows me to appreciate what I have that much more. I’m beyond thankful to be filled with so much love.
I love you, Mom.
I write about this once a year and once a year only. Fourteen years ago today I was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. I remember that day in chunks: when my pediatrician told us to drive to the hospital, when the nurse weighed me and commented that I was skin and bones, when I had to pee so badly as they were admitting me that I almost went in my pants, the first shot they gave me, the first shot I gave myself, sobbing in my mom’s arms in my dark hospital room, convinced that I’d never be able to eat pizza again.
Type 1 diabetes isn’t one of those diseases that people know you have. Aside from insulin pumps and hordes of empty juice boxes, we’re undetectable. I don’t hide my condition, but I don’t bring it up either. It’s a part of me now, locked into every moment of every day, burned into my routine, into my history, and into my future.
This is my confessional. Sometimes I’m still embarrassed to bring out my insulin pump at the dinner table, even with my closest friends. It’s been fourteen years and I still struggle with dosing food correctly. I don’t like to admit when I don’t feel well and I cancel doctor’s appointments when I’ve had trouble controlling my blood sugars just so my doctor won’t find out that I’m “failing” at being a good diabetic.
I’m not shy about my disease. I always welcome conversation and questions and will share my stories to anyone that cares to ask. It’s a strange dichotomy: being an open book that’s shoved inside a backpack.
Thanks for listening to my D-Day story. I guarantee next March 26th will reveal another chapter.
This one’s an oldie. I just watched Mirror Mirror, a silly take on Snow White starring Lily Collins and Julia Roberts, so it seemed like an appropriate throwback. It was published in Pastiche Magazine (a small online journal) last summer during my run as their featured poet for the month of July. It’s strange to look back at previous writings. It’s hard not to judge myself and also bittersweet to experience the emotions from a distance, especially poems that dive into dark scary places I never want to visit again. I think it’s important to look back though and see how far I’ve grown in so many aspects of my self and my work.
A question to my fellow writers:
Do you ever look back at old work and do you find it difficult to look at it objectively?
Oh, and follow me on Twitter. …please.
Today’s poem is inspired by the title of the song “Oh Ms. Believer” by Twenty One Pilots as part of my ongoing Saturday series. If you have a second, check out the archives of my TOP inspired poetry and give a listen to their music below. Happy day!
Today is week 2 of my new Sunday series–poetry inspired by songs currently on my playlist! This poem is inspired by “Bigcitydreams” by Never Shout Never. If you have a second, check out last week’s poem too, inspired by All Time Low 🙂