|Ceri B. (ceri) wrote,|
@ 2009-08-14 07:08 pm UTC
|Entry tags:||catharsis, diabetes, disability, la vie trans, medicine, whining|
This has just been one of those big unexpected-turn summers. I expected, when I started counseling, that I'd be working through the backlog of hurt and crud I know I'm carrying, and poking at stuff I need to examine, and getting my head in shape for transition and all. I knew I had some medical needs too, but figured that working on weight loss and getting caught up on dental and such would do it. Then, of course, it turned out to be nothing like that at all. I've spent the whole summer dealing with an entirely new-to-me set of problems, with the changes in how I live and think about my life that go with them.
So I've been down about all that, both the not doing what I expected and want and the doing what I never expected and wish I didn't have to.
One aspect of the diabetes in particular is the training course. I've touched on this before, I think. The course is simply aimed at people who are in a subculture I don't belong to. If I'd never developed auto-immune problems and everything else from there, maybe so. I could easily have ended up an academic or professional and now be half or two-thirds of the way through a career...but I did and I'm not, and life long ago took me away from it. For most of my life, I've dealt with professional cultures as patient and needy supplicant, and it's not something I can relax about very much. And they're apparently more than usually disordered after a move to new quarters, so they're not at their best any more than I am at mine.
This also hits very deeply at my weak spot, having my ability to make and carry out plans yanked away. High school didn't work out. College didn't work out. Returning to college didn't. Different tries at working didn't. On and on. I've gotten downright twitchy about daring to make any significant plans at all, and have been this way for a long time. So there's a huge accumulated mental sludge associated with all this, just when I can really use all the clear-headedness I can muster.
I am bitter about having to make a whole bunch of changes because of something I didn't choose. I've done it before, I can do it, I just don't like it. I am surprisingly-to-me bitter about the changes in diet, in particular. Dammit, i was really enjoying settling into experiment with crockpot cooking and looking forward to trying a bunch of new things this summer and fall, and instead I have to do the damn carbohydrate counting and give up most of the fruit and grains I've been enjoying so much. I don't mind what I'm eating, or not much of it. I just resent the biology that compels me to give up a bunch of otherwise good food I was enjoying. With my complex matrix of sensitivities, finding a mix that is both healthy and enjoyable is hard—having nourishing, safe food that actually tastes good is a luxury for me, not something I count on, and having half of it yanked away overnight is looming larger than I'd realized as a source of discouragement.
Selfish? Petty? I can't tell. It's just that, darn it, I am tired of having to give so much attention and effort to things that I wish were not my concern, and to have so little to give to the life I want to be living right now.