Happy anniversary, or not. Today marks 11 years with type 1 diabetes; not exactly a cause for celebration. But still, I decided to treat myself to vegan banana french toast (mix a mushed banana with almond milk, arrowroot, cinnamon, and vanilla and soak bread for 10 minutes), a reward for making it through over a decade without serious complications or insulin reactions. Most years the day comes and goes, March 26. It’s just one day out of 365. Not a big deal. But this year it feels different. Since I was diagnosed at 10 years old, today I officially have had diabetes for more years than not. I feel like I’m mourning something, like I’ve lost something. Last night I went to my usual Sunday night yoga class but during the final savasana pose, my eyes started watering under my closed lids and my throat constricted. I was lying in a room full of relaxed, silent, motionless people, and I had to fight to hold in gasping sobs. Somewhere in my mediation, my body and my brain had acknowledged the heartache hidden beneath years of a refusal to mourn my diagnosis. Read on...
