Seasons of love

Autumn arrived. Officially starts tomorrow but yesterday I has a short skirt, no tights, short sleeves. I think I said goodbye to summer in a nice way: spent one hour at the river, in the chilly air, watching the sunset while listening to music, while trying to quiet my mind down.
And then autumn came, with this unpleasant drop in the temperature, a light though irritating rain in the morning. Perfect weather, I thought, for an afternoon in Starbucks with some coffee (and, luckily, a nice lunch with my best friend).

I have been dragging this weight on my shoulders for years now. The thought that I am not capable of taking care of myself. 
The last years of failures to take care of me convinced me of this, to the desperate moments of hell, when I thought that maybe I am not mentally sane (okay, I know I am not completely mentally sane, but in a good way) and that I need to go to a psychiatric something. That maybe I am bipolar or simply I am dangerous for myself. While in a calmer state of mind I know that these thoughts are the result of stress, hopelessness and a certain tendency to be dramatic, I have always this background thought and insecurity that maybe I am really not capable of loving myself enough to take good care. Always engaged in this battle against me.

But you grow up. Slowly, not everything goes at the same pace in you. You are mature for some aspects. For other things, you are still fucked up. Things are changing slowly. But they are.
I am accepting my body, my ever bothering dislike for my physical appearance that I thought would never leave me. I thought I would have to always live with this self hatred. But I am starting to feel stronger and that helps with the confidence. So much that a few weeks ago I managed to workout at Crossfit without my t-shirt, one of my dreams. In my dreams, my tummy was flat and I was super lean. It is not like this. My belly is round, maybe bloated. It will probably be better but I doubt it will ever be flat like I would like it to be. And that is fine. And, even more, I started to think this tiny thought: my beauty is not defined by that excess skin or fat over there.
And we get to the point: beauty.
For a multitude of reasons I have always thought myself not pretty. I am a nice person, maybe an interesting one, a deep one, sensitive, curious. But I never thought I could be physically attractive. Someone could like me because of my inner light and despite my appearance. But, eureka!, what if the physical appearance is somehow influenced by my inner light? What if, overall, I could also look pretty, because of how I am as a whole human being?

Well, if my mind is not messed up.

As for the inner light… It is easy for me to slip back into old bad habits. Into expecting too much from me and never saying no and always saying yes to please others. This is the perfect, quickest recipe for BURNOUT. Yaaay, so since I was burnt out twice in six months, why not three times?
Well, it is not really like that. I have started a journey, months ago, years ago. It is made of several ingredients, to keep it on a culinary aspect: buddhism is the first. It gave me hope. Then there was the counseling and it gave me some perspective. And the mash together very well, although I am deeply convinced that without Buddhism I would be lost. And they both brought me to the third, which is Crossfit.
I swear if someone told me, six months ago, I would wake up at 5.30 in the morning to go to train, I would have laughed and then offered this person a Vodka Szoda, patting him/her on the shoulder, recommending a good counselor. Proved me very wrong. Third month and still going, loving it more and more. When I try to explain people why I love it, the challenge is the first thing that comes to my mind. It is a constant challenge with myself, with the voice in my head saying: Fede, you are too weak. It is not for you. 
I remember the first class I took. During the workout, breathing heavily and trying to focus on not falling and hurting myself, on the brink of giving up, I thought angrily: Fuck, no, I am gonna do this!
And I did.

Less than three months and going, yesterday I was in a class full of people who are well trained. My usual trainer was training with us, we had another one, whom I had somehow thought was a jerk. And maybe he is a bit, but he was patient and encouraging, yesterday.
There were still 3 minutes left to go, I had some reps to do and I felt tired. Not like I was dying but very tired, I had trained three days in a row. It was 7.56 am. I was the last one working out, the others were already done.
Always the same, always the last one, the weakest, I had this bitter thought, while trying to do a jumping pull up, my hands hurting from gripping the bar.
And then the others started.
“Come on Fede!”
“You’re almost there!”
“Go Fede, don’t give up!”
They started to encourage me, several people. I wish I could tell them how much it meant to me. My eyes are wet with tears now, because it was touching. They did not have to do it. But that is the spirit of Crossfit.

What happened yesterday made me even surer of my determination to become a Crossfit coach.
This was an idea my father gave me last sunday, while we were having lunch with my mother and my hungarian sister at a nice, sunny restaurant in Italy, back home. He threw this suggestion probably without thinking and it struck me. “You could inspire many people”, he said.
It was really like I was discovering hot water or something like that.
Who better than me? Me, struggling with an eating disorder and with type 1 diabetes. I had been looking for a purpose, a mission to take care of myself, to inspire others to take care of their diabetes because I suck at that. Me that I have been always interested in teaching, training, inspiring people.
I am slow, lazy. I am uncoordinated, not flexible. Not a sporty type. So, how on earth could it be me? But I am also stubborn, determined, empathetic, compassionate, ambitious. So, why on earth shouldn’t it be me?
This is the best gift my father could give me.

Goodbye, summer. Welcome, autumn.


Somewhere I read that we are incredibly honest with the web. I have been honest in my previous posts and I intend to keep doing so, mostly because I am not advertising this blog at all, and only people who really want to read it find it.

From a medical point of view, last weeks have been quite hectic. I started wearing sensors again, with first week being definitely positive (BGs are, according to my endo, much closer to human decency, so I guess that means thumbs up for me).
Then my period came, together with the weekend, and a rather unpleasant experience, resulting in bingeing, incredibly high BGs (partly because of my period, which makes it incredibly hard to lower blood sugar, but partly because of eating lots of carbs, i.e. binges).
So today, after waking up with a post-binge awfully (really awfully) high BG, I got back on track.

Since I embarked in this journey, several things have happened on a human perspective.
I have, first of all, learnt to put some distance between me and my endo. Before all this, I did not know much about her. I liked her a lot, she seemed really positive and encouraging and cool and young and I felt understood.
Then I was back for holidays and it happened that she checked my HbA1c and said what she said and ever since she has repeatedly hit me, even when I have shown her a picture of my tattoo. She acts for my wellbeing, she has been tough for my wellbeing, then she started again being nice and funny and she hugged me after devastating me. I think something is broken now, with her.

At least, even if I was a wreck for days, starting this online sharing of my struggles has led some of my friends to get back to me. The ones that matter, I guess, have asked me what is going on. The ones that matter have asked me what they can do to help me. They have started encouraging me. My best friend has started carrying sugar around with her. My other friends, the colleagues I am closer to, ask questions on how it works with my blood sugar (and some of them have started to realize how messy it is to deal with it).
In this emotional mess, I have found so very heartwarming that they are, no matter how, close to me.

I have, if not completely at least partially, recovered a friendship which, at that time, had been quite strong to me. Someone I was connected to at university. We parted in a not so friendly way and then life happened, I went somewhere, she went somewhere else and from me there has been some resentment up until a few months ago, when I realized that she was actually the first person I practiced Buddhism with.
And then she came up with a long and moving message about this blog (and maybe she will read this too, so if you do… well, I don’t know, actually 🙂 ).
So, wow, this whole tragedy has got me back a friend I thought I had lost.

Diabetes has also made me realize something.
I am completely screwed up.

I have met someone, let’s say randomly (at least, without any sentimental purpose) who looked like the last person on earth I could ever consider interesting. Damn appearances. I discovered that this person is unbelievably interesting, and open, and curious. And I started to fall for this person. Come on, it’s just a stupid crush, it’s nothing. And I was well aware that this wouldn’t lead anywhere, that I am not enough for this person to like me.
The real tragedy happened when this person helped me count carbs for a meal. And paradoxically, I have felt this as the most personal and intimate thing in my life.
And with this realization I understand how screwed I am.

So diabetes has taken a lot from me and it has also given a lot to me. I don’t know if it gave more or took more from me. The thing I know is that I am in deep trouble. troubles