Life With Jenny: Type 1 Diabetes, Mental Health & Deployment #2

Did you know that people with Type 1 Diabetes are 2-3 times more likely to suffer from mental health disorders? Diabetics have a lot on our minds, all the time. We have to constantly think about food, insulin, carb ratios, shots, boluses, so many things. Everything we do affects our blood sugar and we have to consider all the factors all the time. It's exhausting. I'm not surprised that diabetics are 2-3 times more likely to suffer from mental health disorders. I just didn't know for a very long time, that was what I had.

As I have previously discussed in a post, I have an eating disorder. It's definitely still active in my life too because I still have days where I'm like nah, I don't want to eat today. Or, I'll be like, I'm feeling unhappy with myself, I'm going to punish myself by not eating until this afternoon, or I'm going to punish myself by not eating the things I like to eat, I can only eat salad today. Things like that. Then there are some days that all I want to do is eat, so I eat more than I should, and then after that day, I punish myself the next. It's a pretty vicious cycle. But, I'm also good at hiding it. At least I was until I decided to write about it here for the world see! The truth is, I struggle with food, a lot. A few years ago, I decided to go vegetarian. I did that for 2 years. I convinced myself and others that I was doing it because of my love for animals and how atrocious factory farming is and that I'd be healthier (I still love animals and hate factory farming), but really, I did this because I had control over what I was eating. I could control it and punish myself in a new way. I do have to say, my blood sugars were really good eating a vegetarian diet. My blood sugars were less roller coaster like, and more like a hilly road.

After 2 years of eating as a vegetarian, I decided that wasn't enough. I needed to do something more extreme, something that was more limiting and controlling, so I decided to go vegan. First, let me tell you, vegan is hard! There's dairy in some form or another in just about everything! I only made it 6 months eating a vegan lifestyle. Honestly, I was so hungry because I didn't know what I was doing and was not eating nearly enough to sustain myself, and I was experiencing a lot more low blood sugars than usual. Ya know, and then you find out the Oreo's are vegan and you're like sweet, I can eat all the Oreo's I want-except my blood sugar would not like that! Anyways, one day I decided I wanted a burger, and I got one, and ate it and it was the best burger I'd ever had! So, I stopped the vegan and vegetarian diets and just ate regular food again. For a while I was fine, but then my thyroid started going crazy and I gained a lot of weight, which is what has led to the current day in and day out battle with food.

Now, let's jump back a little further when other mental health illnesses started to peak. Back in 2011, Steven got orders to PCS (permanent change of station) to Alaska. I was pretty excited! We'd been in Georgia for 5 years at this point, I was excited to go somewhere else. The downside to this move was that just about as soon as we'd get there, Steven would be gone for training and then immediately after, he would deploy to Afghanistan. So, we decided, rather than the girls and I being in Alaska that far from family, the girls and I would stay in NC with Steven's parents, until he returned from this deployment. Being away from Steven was hard. Even though I had family to help me, I still felt so alone. Now I know that it was depression that took ahold of me, but then I didn't know that's what it was. I felt overwhelmed all the time and just sad and alone. I tried to fake it as much as I could, that I was fine. I tried to focus on the girls, but it didn't take the feelings away. I got to a point where I was frustrated with how I felt. I don't know what came over me, but one day, I picked up a pair of scissors and pressed them to the inside of my wrist. I didn't want to end my life, I just wanted the emotional pain to stop. I'd rather feel physical pain than emotional pain. This is where I started ever so slightly hurting myself. I wouldn't necessarily cut or slice my skin, but more of a digging until I'd bleed, just a little bit. I didn't want to cut so deep that I'd bleed out or really hurt myself. I just wanted to feel some physical pain so I could stop focusing on the emotional pain I was feeling.

I did this for a while. Eventually, Steven's brother caught me with scissors and he told me that he had a duty as a volunteer firefighter to report this. I begged him not to. I didn't want to be taken away from the girls or put in a mental institution. So, I tried to stop. I stopped for a bit and then I vaguely remember I got upset about something and did it again. But I hid it. And I tried not to do it as often. I did go to the doctor and did end up getting put on some antidepressants, which helped. But I hated having to go to the doctor and say I had this problem. I thought it made me weak and less valuable as a person. I thought it made me a bad mom, a bad wife. I was ashamed of myself.

After some time on the meds I was feeling okay. Steven's deployment was just about over so the girls and I were moving to Alaska. Goodness, moving is stressful! But we did it, we moved across the country! I did it with a 4 and 5 year old and a 6 month old puppy! Once we got settled into our house and Steven got home, I felt whole again. I had my family back together, Steven came home from another deployment to a war zone, unharmed. I was thankful. I stopped cutting, for a while.

A couple years later, the cutting started again. Just a little bit. I felt like I had no control over anything in my life and just wanted to control something. I already battled with food and tried to control that as much as I could, but it wasn't enough. My blood sugars were up and down, which added to not feeling well. I didn't really take good care of my diabetes. I had an insulin pump so I just let it do the work for me, which is not exactly how that's supposed to work. I'd stopped taking the antidepressants a long time ago. So there I was, with mental illnesses, unmedicated. I know, it sounds crazy. I should have known better. I should have taken better care of myself. I see that now looking back on all of it, but then, going through it, I didn't see that. I didn't put two and two together and realize that I had a problem I couldn't handle on my own. I still felt ashamed and embarrassed and assumed that nobody would love me if I told the truth about the thoughts and feelings I had. So I tried to handle it on my own. Cutting was my way of managing it on my own.

I did this for a while. One day Steven and I had gotten into a huge argument and I was just losing it. I was mentally crashing and was just yelling and screaming and crying. I didn't mean for it to, but when you're upset, things can slip out of your mouth before you realize it. I told Steven that I'd been hurting myself for a while. I told him about the depression and anxiety and all the things. He was shocked because he had no idea. He held me and told me everything was going to be okay. I did have to promise to call to make a doctors appointment though, which I did. I got medications, referrals for psychological and psychiatric counseling. Steven still loved me, I wasn't a terrible person and I wasn't the only person to ever go through this. It took some time, but the cutting stopped. I got to a point where I felt I could close that chapter of my life, and I did so by getting a tattoo to cover some scars I had given myself on my left arm. Getting that tattoo was like a permanent Band-Aid on that part of my life for me. Since getting that tattoo on my birthday in 2018, I've never cut myself again. I've wrestled with the thoughts, but never acted on it.

I know that was a lot of information. I never imagined I would be sitting here sharing all me deep, dark secrets with the world. I never imagined anyone outside of health care providers and my husband would know of my mental health disorders and how I've struggled with them. I think that's part of the problem, people don't talk about these things. We go through these things and we feel ashamed and embarrassed because that's how society views these things. If these illnesses weren't so serious, I don't think there'd be such a stigma about them. Having mental health disorders doesn't make you less valuable or weak.

I'm thankful that I did get help for my disorders before it got too late. Even though I didn't want to end my life when I was cutting, accidents happen, I could have very easily, accidentally, seriously hurt myself. The disordered eating is a work in progress. It's a daily struggle. I don't know that I will ever be able to eat "normal" but I try every day to be better than I was yesterday. I am thankful that I am on medication now and in therapy, working through things and finding healthy coping mechanisms for different things in my life. I am also very grateful that I am fully aware of the disorders I have - I'm not ashamed of them anymore. I've spent nearly my whole life just brushing off the fact that I have type 1 diabetes - a very serious disease that is life long and can be exhausting - I'm not doing that anymore. I'm not going to be ashamed or embarrassed. We need to normalize talking about all these things so that we don't feel alone, so that people don't try to handle things on their own. There is help out there and we need to know that it's okay to ask for the help.

Stay tuned for Friday's blog - I will be talking about how my 5 year old literally saved my life. Have a good week! Remember, Jesus loves you.

Psalm 62:6 says: He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.

Until Friday...

xoxo-Jenny