It started a long time ago but happened two weeks ago. I was diagnosed with Type I diabetes. I knew that the day would come eventually when I would have to rely on medicine to stay well. It meant that I was weak that I was broken. The body that was once a well oiled machine was now betraying me.
So that was bad.
My mind was worse. For the last month I had a hard time at work I wasn't focusing on much of anything. I was sluggish and lacked the motivation that I needed to give a shit. As a therapist I spend much of my day helping people mine their thoughts for fears, worries and insights. I could not stop mining my own thoughts. I moved from one chamber to the next, looking for something but not finding the right answer. It did not help that I was working with faulty equipment.
On a Wednesday in the summer I put a needle in my side for the first time. I did what I could to hold it together. My wife sitting next to me and a stranger along side giving me advice on the whole process. I teared up, I felt weak, I felt betrayed. These feelings were real, but they weren't true. I took some breaths, a nutrionist and nurse talked in the background. I heard nothing, I was alone with my thoughts, once again mining. I found no gold that day, but I made it back to the surface. And for that I am proud.