I have been wanting to write a year-end blog post for a few
months now, but the words just weren’t there.
In so many ways, I could say that 2015 sucked, that it was one of the
toughest and that it was the year of the “breakdown”. But after re-thinking this, I decided to call
it the year of the “reboot”.
The human brain categorizes everything as either good or
bad. It has a difficult time
categorizing in between. It’s part of the
human condition. We’re just hard-wired
that way I guess. At the beginning of
2015, my mind would certainly have categorized how the year started as being
bad. Getting sick with Pericarditis in
April and the very slow recovery was certainly difficult and unpleasant, but I
can now see it as a good thing. 2015 was
one of the hardest years for me, but also arguably the year where I grew and changed
the most. Strange how these paradoxes
need to co-exist. I say that 2015
changed me, but in reality, it was more a process of discovering my true self rather
than transformation. So I guess it was
more of a “finding” of something that was already there.
2015 was a year where I rode my bike less, but the quality
of each ride made up for the lack of quantity.
Riding became more of a meditation.
My state of mind made for more mindful pedal strokes, thus making the act
much more meaningful. There is nothing
like losing something to make you appreciate it that much more when it is given
back.
Last year’s events also made me realize that killing myself in
managing Adele’s Diabetes wasn’t accomplishing anything, except for making me
sick. Nighttime is the scariest time for
Type 1 parents. Laying your head on the
pillow becomes a prison sentence of worry and suffering when the body should be
replenishing itself through rest. Looking
back, for me it was just a matter of time before health problems and sickness
moved in. The body cannot function
long-term without adequate sleep. Along
with sleep deprivation, I was burning the candle at both ends during the day
pushing myself in other aspects of my life acting as if I was invincible. This is never sustainable.
Even after over 13 years of Type 1 gaming, I still cannot
say that I have fully accepted it. Maybe
I had never stopped long enough to mourn the loss? Maybe I was always too busy trying to fix something
that I cannot really fix? Maybe I
couldn’t stop because I was constantly overwhelmed in the constant numbers
madness and lost in the striving for perfection? Maybe letting go is THE ONLY WAY?
Type 1 gaming is messy.
But I now believe that’s how it has to be in order for us to learn what
it’s trying to teach us. I have always
had an obsession with controlling things in my life. Even with a very, very strict diet, I still
don’t think that a Type 1 gamer can control the disease 100%. Maybe that is what Type 1 gaming needed to
teach me? Maybe I can’t be at peace with
it all before I admit that at the end of the day that I am not the one in the
Type 1 driver’s seat? I now know that I
could not surrender to this truth before hitting rock bottom.
Type 1 Diabetes is a constant reminder of our vulnerability
and non-permanence. In so many ways, Type
1 Diabetes and other chronic diseases are the ultimate metaphor for what life
is really about. With Type 1, this
fragility is always right there, in our face 24/7. It has been the ultimate teacher. I just hadn’t been a very good student.
The reboot has been a slow one. In so many ways I feel like I am starting
over. From physical fitness to learning
to relax and sleep again in the midst of the storm, it all seems to be so new. I am not the same person now that I was a
year ago, but it’s not just being the only guy in a room full of women during
one of my yoga classes. My life is no
longer so much about the speed and efficiency of racing through it. It’s now more about what’s right here right
now. My anxious mind can’t lead the way
anymore. And that is the gift that came
out of all of this.
So here’s to an awesome 2016!
Cheers
