I don’t think my relationship with food has been healthy in the past seven years of my life. It was a reward system I created to earn a break to relax. Sadly, this system we put ourselves in does not allow for a completely symbiotic relationship between food and self. They are separate and battle it out to determine which one will become authentic in care.
Sadly, this system we put ourselves in does not allow for a completely symbiotic relationship between food and self.
Since the beginning of the pandemic, I think everyone has been dealing with how they form relationships, whether it’s between people or food. Particularly with food, we depended on it for entertainment and to fill that empty void. During that stressful, lonely time, television and food were there for me.
I scheduled my life around these substances while I was home in Houston; the amount of Netflix and fanfiction I consumed comprised a heaping portion of my one meal a day. And since it takes approximately sixty-six days to form a habit, and I’ve been doing this for months now, I think it’s safe to say that the habit has solidified. And while habits are broken, like cheat days, how can a cheat week become a cheat habit?
I would like a healthy consistency in my life that allows for some sort of balance, where I don’t have to give up a part of myself just to nourish myself. And with the need for sustenance to live, I have discovered that I am truly going to always need a relationship with food that requires a complete thought. Sadly, that has to adjust to the new reality I have to face, due to a new physical diagnosis.
My pancreas is broken, and as much as I’d like to forget that, I can’t.
My pancreas is broken, and as much as I’d like to forget that, I can’t. Anytime I need to eat, insulin is required, but not from my body. Whether or not I would like to draw attention to myself, this fact is always there. I have to make sure that I don’t make others uncomfortable, yet I have to make myself feel safe.
This new diagnosis has changed my relationship with others in interesting ways. There’s a community of people who can relate to my experience of living with a disability, but not all of them are Black. There’s a large stigma that Black disabled people face everywhere, and since this has a direct connection to deeming how “healthy” you are, your disability can seem to be your fault.
It’s interesting breaking to someone that you have Type-1 diabetes. Of course, there are the funny jokes like, “oh no, your pancreas, it’s broken.” But when you just say, “oh I have diabetes,” and people ask “type 2?” It makes me feel like I’m just another statistic that is going to get lost. And of course, I have to fix their statement. Mentioning that they’re wrong, it’s so awkward.
I’m here today, dependent on overpriced medicine for my need to live. And that’s going to be my reality for the rest of my existence.
“You don’t have diabetes. You don’t need to become dependent on insulin. Just try a day going without taking that medicine.” My family wouldn’t believe in me, so who’s to say I should believe in myself? I’m here today, dependent on overpriced medicine for my need to live. And that’s going to be my reality for the rest of my existence.
