Priceless Tears

It’s been a while since I’ve posted much about Chronic Conditions. Although this is the basic theme of my blog, often my writing path veers toward a stop sign of grandchildren, babies, beauty in the world and nature. Inspiration from nightly dreams with photographs to delight my days.

In truth, our minds push portions of what we see and hear from the surface of reality in order to protect us. My own has been doing it for over twenty years. It does that still. There’s a thin dimension hidden slightly below the surface of my smile, cowering in a corner of my beating heart. A sort of twilight zone if you will.

With lined paper and a pen or ten fingers tapping on a keyboard, words meander around Chronic Conditions to discover pure beauty in the world. Joy in a single blade of grass, symphonies tweeted from a flock of birds, or sheer wonder observed in a sky of my favorite aqua blue.

Days or weeks go by without me going there…skipping rocks over what it’s like to live with Chronic Conditions. Memories are pushed down…down…down. Eventually, they rear their ugly heads to snap my own back to yesterday, today or even tomorrow. Sorry to say, Chronic Conditions never go away.

Early this morning, before dawn broke in the dark of day, I woke to tears trickling from the corner of an eye. First the left then the right until both began to flow. I let them fall silently, not wanting to wake my husband before brushing them from the two of my cheeks. Most often, I keep personal emotions bottled up, not wanting to share heartache or despair. Chin-up. Be positive!

Memories…Last week we spent an afternoon with my son and two of our grandchildren. He needed a bit of help and we were all too happy to see them! Lunch in the mall before rides on a wooden train of primary colors in red, yellow and green. Choo-Choo, Choo-Choo! Carousel animals under a striped Big Top of round for us to choose. Which one shall it be? Allie the Elephant, Zee the Zebra, or Joy the Dolphin? “Oh, this one, Grandma! She’s BLUE,” my granddaughter exclaimed with excitement, jumping up and down! I lifted her atop the smooth saddle of a teal dolphin from the sea, buckled her up and away we went. Up and down, down and up, while singing a make-believe song of “High in the Sky.”

Afterward, our generations of three skipped with holding hands to the far end of the building to discover a park of indoors. There, children gathered to play on soft, emerald-green grass in stocking feet. Moms and Dads took turns supervising with grandparents too. We proudly observed kids crawling on oversized turtles with cocoa-colored shells of tic-tac-toe. Brothers and Sisters played hide-n-seek under purple plastic logs. My grandbabies jumped off bridges over fantasy streams painted with rainbow-colored trout or giggled while sliding down their bellies with new-found friends.

Suddenly my son needed something sweet to eat! Under his breath, he whispered “Hurry!” My husband ran to get him cinnamon and sugared pretzel bites with a soda to drink at the closest stand nearby. The kids and I ran and jumped, smiled and laughed. Swallowing his surgary drink quickly, my son munched on sugared pretzel bites, two or three at a time. He checked his sensor attached to his stomach hidden under a T-shirt of white. The number in red appeared to be going up. A few minutes later he did a finger-prick of blood. My husband sat with him fifteen or twenty minutes, making sure the danger zone had passed. Talk and laughter with smiles on faces. This was our normal. No one knew anything different. Many Chronic Conditions are unseen, diabetes included.

Only a few weeks ago at Christmastime all was merry and bright until suddenly my son’s blood sugar dropped like a falling rock to a dangerously low number. Scooping up the kids, my husband and I disappeared into the toy room where we silently played and prayed 911 wouldn’t be needed. Luckily, it was not. Everyone went to bed early that evening as my son was tired from his episode. Chronic Conditions take a toll on the lives of those who live it together with the whole of their families.

This morning when my husband woke to the sounds of sniffles, he begged me to confess my troubles, which I finally did. “It’s okay,” he said, cuddling me just so. “You have a right to your feelings. You’re his mother.” I started bawling like a newborn babe. It felt like a dam had burst there and then as my pillow of down went from damp to wet. So good it was to let the worry and sorrow drain from the whole of my body. I had bottled the “no, don’t go there” for quite some time.

So, if you’re like me, give yourself permission to have feelings and emotions. To show them, honor them and admit they exist. Touch your heart with your mind and be not afraid to awaken your soul. We can’t change the world, but we can change ourselves. And, yes, go ahead and CRY.

Tears are priceless…..


27 thoughts on “Priceless Tears

  1. Being brave is something mother’s do very well and seldom get a medal for it. Your son is very lucky to have you and your husband and I am sure he gives thanks for the help and support your still give him every day. You are right, we can show emotion from time to time. Much better than bottling it up and creating health conditions of our own. love and hugs.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. God Bless you. I know you have dealt with this for so very long.. I remember someone giving me potato chips once and it brought me back to good quick as blink. For the longest time, I kept cn of potato stick chips in my office in case I were to crash again.. Had to use them a couple times… ❤

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  3. Oh, please don’t misunderstand. I have never lived with type 1 diabetes… I was discovered to have low blood sugar in my 40’s. And a few times, my co-workers would watch me “walk out of my body” as they put it. One night, I remember driving home, from the roof of my car. Not my physical body,mind you. So, while not the same, it’ was and has been crazy, so in a way, I really do understand. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  4. It’s hard enough coping with your own issues but when it’s your children, that’s a whole other ballgame. My son has chronic ulcerative colitis and I would do anything for him to be completely well again without all the hospital stays. Thinking of you

    Liked by 1 person

    • Bless you and your son, Livonne. It’s a fine line we walk. The last thing we want is for anyone to feel sorry for us, my son included. NORMAL is what we wish for. At the same time, we are humans with feelings and emotions that must be given in to at times. As my father once told me years ago, “It’s okay to cry.” Sometimes we don’t have to be so very strong. Thinking of you and your own as well, Livonne.


    • So hard to keep them in, so difficult to let them go…I am blessed beyond words, which I know. Thank you for your kind words of caring, understanding and never ending support, David. Much love to you.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. I can imagine… I have low blood sugar, which is troublesome enough. Especially when my bosses consistently schedule long meetings through my lunchtime. Diabetes is much worse and I’m thankful that I only have what I have. Wishing you joy, Kim. Mega hugs!

    Liked by 2 people

  6. This post was priceless Kim. You had me in tears from your open soul. You are so right, sometimes we just have to open the bottle and let the pent up emotions drain. So many of us or our loved ones, have chronic conditions. We may not be able to cure one another, but we can always comfort. And the photo is exquisite too. ❤

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  7. I’m amazed by how beautifully this is written. I can’t imagine what it’s like having to worry about your child like that and I commend you for your strength. Your husband is right. You absolutely have a right to your emotions. You are a strong pillar for your son and I’m sure he absolutely adores you 🙂

    This was a gentle reminder for me also and I’d like to thank you for that. I have a chronic condition that causes me a lot of pain and I often times hide it and deny it; so as not to upset my loved ones. But, being winter where I am and living in a body that reacts horribly to the cold; sometimes I have to let it out. Thank you for reminding me of this. 🙂

    Much love and light❤️

    Liked by 1 person

    • I had to take my time to answer you as it touched me deeply. Tears to know my words had an impact on another’s life. My son’s pain is hidden much like your own is, I suspect. He never shows it, even in his darkest days. I can only remember one time he cried as a child. Rarely as an adult, and only then after seizures when emotions get the best of him. He truly is happy in life and for that I am grateful beyond words. Nevertheless, Chronic Conditions take their toll and we are all human, not Superman or Superwomen. Your loved ones will more than understand if you let them see behind the mask. Go ahead…cry when it hurts. Allow yourself to be comforted, to receive warm arms of love and reassurance around a body, mind and spirit that needs it so. Let it out before going on to to take the next step, wherever that may lead you. Blessings with prayers to you every day of your life. I shall never forget this comment and I thank you from deep inside my soul. With much love and gratitude, Kim

      Liked by 1 person

      • The thanks is all for you. Thank you for answering :). Chronic conditions are often called “invisible illnesses” for a reason I suppose. I finally have people in my life today who don’t treat my physical condition as a defect and I am learning to let them see how I feel and to be open about it. It’s definitely a transition though. Your son sounds like a strong man. I imagine seizures would bring out the emotional side of anyone. That’s one thing I’ve been blessed to not have to endure. I will keep yourself and your son in my prayers 🙂 Thank you for touching me with your post! Keep up the amazing work!

        Liked by 1 person

      • Yes, this is what makes Chronic Conditions so difficult. The person affected may look WONDERFUL! How dare they have a bad day???? Your family is truly blessed to have you and now, so am I, even if it’s only a tiny piece within my heart. Thank you for your words and prayers.

        Liked by 1 person

      • You’re welcome and thank you! Ahh the age old “but you don’t look sick”… Or my personal favorite “you’re too young. You don’t know what pain is.” Haha. That’s why us enlightened folks have to stick together 🙂 have a wonderful day!

        Liked by 1 person

  8. I’m just having an “ugly cry” right now as I read this….My daughter had her Type 1 onset last Wednesday the 24th. I keep having dreams that I’m drowning or trying to save someone from drowning or stuck in a tunnel… This post has been edifying to my soul! We’ve been in a very unique position because we had been told she would get Type 1—in a “pre-state” now for several months. I have a huge place of thankfulness in my heart that it wasn’t a surprise, necessarily, but the trauma of the adjustment is REAL. I found your blog because our school nurse gave me “Taking Diabetes to School” and my daughter wants her teacher to read it tomorrow in class. Yet today, she clung to me and didn’t want me to leave her there this morning. So I let her cry at school, convinced her to stay, and I’m going back soon for her “shot time,” but in the meantime, I had to come home and have a good cry myself! Thanks for posting your reality–it has blessed me today.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh, Andrea, I had to read and re-read your comment. Stop and start on my keyboard before even beginning to know what to say. I know how you feel, if that helps one tiny bit? Truly, I do. If wishes came true diabetes would not exist. Did you read my post from the 29th, Life is Wonderful? If not, please do. We’ve come so far since the time of my son’s diagnosis long ago. Somehow, someway, we just have to pull up our bootstraps to make the best life we can with the cards we’re dealt. We can either give-in to the demon or fight it! Having said that, it’s okay to cry. It’s okay for your daughter to cry. I still do, and probably always will. Thank you for mentioning, Taking Diabetes to School. That was my very first book written especially for my son. I can’t tell you how much it means to me to know it’s still helping children after all of these years. I wrote it right after he was diagnosed in 1992, although I’m sure it has been updated since then. Many, many prayers and blessings to you and your daughter, Andrea. All through my life I’ll think of this note, and wonder how you are. From one mother to another, my love to you and yours. Kim


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