Bear Family Trees…

Mama Bear ain’t doing great ya’ll. I decided a few weeks ago my health really needed to be addressed. I had used the excuse of the plague to not address anything going on. The people that have Covid, need medical care more than I do… In the process of figuring out how to get healthy I had to address how NOT healthy I am currently. I was devastated when the thing I thought was wrong was fine (hello crazy, nice of you to chime in again). It was worse when tests revealed I am prediabetic and my triglicer-something or another is wacky high and my other good something or another is low. How does my dramatic brain take that information? I’m a ticking time bomb! I’m going to die and leave my kids without a mom and they will turn into monsters and part of the problem of society instead of the solution and…Bless. As this information came to light, my Uncle was rushed to the hospital that turned out to be kidney failure from, drum roll please, complications of diabetes. That didn’t exactly help my crazy spiral.

I went home that night mad as all h-e-double hockey sticks. I was screaming and sobbing. I workout like crazy trying to lose weight and I literally tear my body apart. I’ve had an ankle reconstruction and torn MCL. The weight stays. I adjust my diet and drink enough water to drown a fish and nothing. My husband had been so supportive. He suggested surgery. I’m not sure I’m ready to make that leap. The next morning I did a v-log. Felt weird. I ended up deleting it. I’ve always been more of a words person.

I went to see my Mama and Papa Bear this weekend and in conversations with Mama she revealed that my Grandmother, Father and now 3 uncles (on my father’s side) all had/have type 2 diabetes. My grandfather on my Mom’s side also had it. I didn’t think type 2 was genetic but as I researched more, surprise surprise surprise, it is. I’m a nut on my families’ crazy tree. Genetically inhibited and attached to another object by an incline plane wrapped helically around an axis (thank you Big Bang Theory for my favorite way to say screwed).

So, now what. Yesterday, I took my first dose of Metformin to try and regulate my blood sugar. Later, I crawled into the bed into the fetal position. Exhausted. Defeated. Sad. Then I started having a panic attack. I laid there and weighed the options of taking an anxiety/sleep med combo nappy and getting out of bed and doing something about my life. I chose getting out of bed. I went downstairs and started painting the room that we’re turning into a gym. My brain is still reeling of everything I feel I should be doing for this situation but not really getting anywhere. I need to understand that even IF my body does start letting go of this weight, I might turn out to be type 2. I need to understand that I’m almost 40 years old and my body doesn’t like letting go of weight.

At this point. I’ve started the medication. I’m working on making my nutrition better. There’s always and definitely room for improvement. I have another doctor appointment in two weeks and hopefully getting a glucose monitor and all of its accessories to track my sugars. I’m going to keep working on my gym and then working out once its put together. Its time to fight, just adjust strategy. Philippians 4:13, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I have cubs to lead, love and care for as long as God blesses me with this life. Please strengthen this Mama Bear, Lord.