Diabetic

My mom is diabetic. She's struggled with it. A lot. The first Halloween after she found out was really difficult for her because basically her first doctor was like "No more sugar. Ever," so she saw all these treats tempting her but she couldn't have them. We used to have ice cream for dessert every night and suddenly that was gone from the house because Mom couldn't handle it. She was given an assortment of pills and when we moved to Indiana that assortment increased and kept increasing until she stopped taking them. What little weight she had lost came back on at least twofold. My dad staged an intervention and used me as a crying emotional weapon to scare her back into taking her meds.

It worked for about a month. Then she went right back to not caring. I think in many ways, my mom was depressed and didn't want to seek help. But more than that, I think she was fed up of letting a schedule of pills run her life. Eventually something snapped and she started making an effort to change.

She started running. She did a 5k, then a couple of 10ks, then decided she wanted to run a marathon in Disneyworld when she turned 50. So she worked her way up, ran a half marathon before that, and ran the full marathon. It's been two years and she mostly sticks to half marathons now, but through exercise and a little bit of dieting, she is now 10 pant-sizes smaller than what she was when she was diagnosed.

My mom doesn't take as many pills now and she doesn't test her blood as often. Both her parents are diabetic too. My grandma tests her blood everyday and eats only low-fat, sugar-free foods, regardless of the chemicals in them. She takes a concoction of pills and doesn't work out exactly, but she stays active. She's doing okay for a woman over 80, though she looks frail. My grandpa doesn't test his blood and doesn't workout and doesn't take pills and snacks worse than the grandkids. He's not doing okay. His eyesight is impaired to the point he couldn't get a driver's license. He has had heart surgery. Twice. He is very arthritic.

Statistics show that I will be diabetic too. It's genetic at this point and not really related to weight, but still this belly I've grown over the past year has me terrified. My mom's been trying for the past two years to get my blood tested. I don't want to know. I don't want to be a 20something who must adhere to a doctor's diet made for overweight housewives in their 40s with disposable incomes. I don't want to be ruled by pills. Just give me my 20 more years of freedom. Of blissful ignorance.

When the fear of becoming diabetic sets in, I go into a fervor. I'll try and control my weight by either diet or exercise. Never both at the same time. I've become vegetarian and counted calories and gone to the gym everyday to do the same workout over and over. Currently it's exercise in the form of pilates and yoga and zumba. Workout without realizing you're working out. Trick your mind into thinking you're having fun. Because that's the only thing that seems to stick with me.

I've never had an issue with how I look, which seems to be the most common reason for dieting and working out. I never look at myself and think, "Oh, this is unhealthy, I should lose weight." I always think, "You're going to become diabetic sooner with that belly." It's always belly. Never cottage cheese legs, never flabby arms. Always belly. And this word that haunts me. Diabetic. I'm going to be diabetic.

It means high blood sugar and high cholesterol and clogged arteries and arthritis and amputated fingers and feet. It means I either have to become a health nut, a pill junkie or a health risk. Death has always been my greatest fear, but lately diabetes has been threatening to take over that spot. I am scared of an incurable yet incredibly treatable disease. If someone walked up to me and told me I was diabetic, I'd be paralyzed. I'd freeze and become numb, not knowing how to react.

Now, logically, I'm sure I'd have the good sense to get myself to a doctor, get a testing kit and start monitoring my blood sugar and changing my diet and maintaining an exercise routine and hope and pray that I don't have to take too many pills, but I don't want that for myself. I don't want to do those things for a disease. I want to do them for me. Because it'll make me a better person. I'm just not seeing that yet. I'm sure you guys are saying, "But if you have proper diet and exercise now you'll stave off diabetes later and that makes you a better person." My brain doesn't make the connection that way. It's the same as telling an otherwise perfectly healthy person, "Hey, exercise now and live longer." We all know it, but it's just not motivating.

Fear is motivating, to a point. Fear motivates me until I forget what I was fearful of in the first place or become so overwhelmed by it that I give up. I either see/feel results and stop making that change, or I don't see results quick enough that I stop making that change. I want to break this cycle, I just don't know how.