I was scouting around the DOC yesterday when I chanced upon the following hashtag: #DBlogWeek. This is the 5th annual diabetes blog week, and I decided to follow the link to sign up. This is an amazing initiative, and I encourage everyone to join. Share your thoughts, and expand and unite the diabetes community. We’re all living with this every single day; we may as well live it together. 🙂
Every day has a set topic, but being that I am a few days behind anyway, I think I will just start from yesterday’s: Diabetes Poetry. I had one drafted from a while ago, and another tucked into a notebook that I was using for SAT prep. Although I wanted to create something new for today, I didn’t get a chance. I have 13 minutes until it’s officially Thursday, so I think I’ll go with notebook-poem. It’s a bit of a spoken word, so it sounds better when read out loud. I wrote it during a competition with Cousin, (more about that in previous posts,) and I was trying really hard to beat him. Sometimes, trying means trying too hard.
Trying Too Hard
If the bird flying above my head flapped his wings too hard,
they may just fall off.
Actually, that’s probably a lie, but who knows? I doubt he ever thought to try.
If the bubbles in my seltzer tried too hard to leave the bottle,
The glas might just explode.
Blades of grass don’t hope to become pine trees and tadpoles don’t try to become toads.
The blades of grass between my toes just want to stay green.
They just work to keep dancing to the rhythm of the wind that breezes through them.
They know (or maybe don’t) that if they tried to become pine trees,
It would be futile; they’d be trying for nothing and trying too hard.
Tadpoles, however, aspire to be toads.
They swim in the lake watching the grownups they wish to become.
But TRYING won’t help-they’ll grow up when they’re meant to.
Trying to please is trying too much.
Those who understand all the guesswork don’t need your excuses
And those who don’t understand never will.
Those who question the juicebox and test strips and blood streaks
won’t understand when you tell them you’re shaking and fine.
All the words in your mouth won’t do justice to explain what exists above the limitations of letters.
All that trying will accomplish nothing but defeat
And the knowledge that perfection doesn’t exist in this world.
Trying to win this means trying too hard.
I’m expecting perfection, yet receiving 200s.
I’m expecting perfection, yet forgetting it’s fake.
120 may be ideal, but means nightmares at bedtime.
Every minute is made up of 60 chances to change.
To change, to guess, to fix, to learn.
There’s a difference between doing my best and trying.
My best is all I can do to win;
Trying means hoping, but not really working.
So it’s time to just work and quit trying to win.
After all, we’re all working way too hard to put ourselves down for what looks less than perfect.