Awk.

When you can't remember where your dexcom is and after tons of searching pockets and purses and cars, you just give up. 

That moment 20 minutes later when you are engrossed in d-blog reading and you just about fill your shorts because your boobs buzz because of a low sugar alert. 

That happened to a *cough* friend *cough* of mine.

4th Annual Diabetes Blog Week - We, The Undersigned

Recently various petitions have been circulating the Diabetes Online Community, so today let’s pretend to write our own. Tell us who you would write the petition to – a person, an organization, even an object (animate or inanimate) - get creative!! What are you trying to change and what have you experienced that makes you want this change?

We, the undersigned, petition carbs of all shapes and sizes to present themselves in an orderly fashion before each and every moment of consumption.

Please organize yourselves to be easily counted, in all your solid, liquid, and invisible forms.

A simple sign, announcement, or short musical number would suffice.

When you cloak yourself in secret family recipes that hide sweetened condensed milk into potato salad, when you blend sugar into usually carb-friendly deviled eggs, or create a candied taco salad, you literally get on my nerves, make my eyes hurt, and wear me out.

We have spent 10 years together and I have tried my best to understand you.  In turn, you have tried my patience.  If you could get to know me and my insulin needs - it would be ever-so-kind of you to give me a heads up of how complicated you really are. 

"Hey, just so ya know. . . I gotta extra cup of sugar in this here salad dressing - so you might as well just go for the pie instead."

"We talked it over, and this whole plate's got 60g of carb, but that squash has a pound of lard - so take 6 units now and stretch out another 4 units over the next four hours and you'll be good." 

I would also accept a note of "You'll regret this" or "You just got screwed" so that I can at least play catch-up with your wicked games.

I petition you, Carbohydrates to be forthcoming with your stats, honest with your fiber and transparent with your fat. 

If we can't work this out, I think we'll have to break up.

4th Annual Diabetes Blog Week - Share and Don't Share

Often our health care team only sees us for about 15 minutes several times a year, and they might not have a sense of what our lives are really like. Today, let’s pretend our medical team is reading our blogs. What do you wish they could see about your and/or your loved one's daily life with diabetes? On the other hand, what do you hope they don't see? 

Dear Team,

I must say I was pleasantly surprised the first time my A1c came back and it was on the high side (technically referred to as "non-compliant" in some circles).  I wasn't pleasantly surprised by the number, but by your reaction. Thank you for not berating me. As a perfectionist who is tainted with a hearty fear of failure, I am already a pro at "not feeling good enough".  Your question of "what do you think caused this?" did not get my defenses up, but allowed my honesty to peek through.

Thank you for all the times you have prayed with me when I have panicked at a possible complication or was drowning in burnout.  Your compassion has always spoken volumes to me.

I appreciate you too, nurses.  You have hugged me after news of a miscarriage, and hoped with me for the future.  Every one of you know that I HATE having my blood drawn, and so your conversations of holidays and favorite foods, of work and weather have been a calculated and effective distraction.

You have made going for a check-up, blood work, or follow-up appointment much more agreeable and enjoyable for a disease that can be so overwhelming and tedious.

Thank you.


P.S.  Right after I leave your office after my A1c is drawn, I go for a cheeseburger and fries and I will never tell you that.

4th Annual Diabetes Blog Week!

Here we go!

For one week, a ton of BWD (bloggers with Diabetes?!) join in to share their voice on a week's worth of topics.

What is Diabetes Blog Week?  For those of you who haven’t participated before, the idea of Diabetes Blog Week is that bloggers sign up to post about a set topic each day for a week.  This way, readers can jump around the D-Blog Community and get a plethora of different perspective on a single topic. What is Diabetes Blog Week? 

You'll get a variety of perspectives and opinions on topics like "What do you want your Doctors to Know" to "What is your dream diabetes device".

Hope you'll take a walk around the community to see what life is like with Diabetes!

Check out the other neighbors, who are also posting this week!

Mother's Day

I love my Mom. 

When I was younger, I didn't always appreciate my Mom.  I was the center of my own universe.  Now that I am older, I am so thankful and grateful for all she did to show us that she loved us and to create great adults (if I do say so myself).

I cherish her support and love as a adult.  I need her friendship as a married woman.  And I hear her advice and guidance as a mom.

I also have an incredible Mother-in-Law.  She loves me immensely and has raised a wonderful son that I am privileged to share my life with. 

That being said . . . Mother's Day is bittersweet.

I had moments of dread as I looked toward Mother's Day.

In my most bitter moments, it seemed to me as the day we "Celebrate the women whose parts work".

With every celebration there is a person who is left out.  In this situation, people are celebrated for being able to bear children (whether they intended to, or not), and those who have not are not celebrated.

They are not berated or put down, just excluded from the party.

What about the woman who . . .

• experiences years of infertility, with no cure.
• (in her opinion) does not have a mother worth celebrating.
• chooses not to become a mother.
• never intended on getting pregnant, but now has a baby she doesn't want.
• has lost a child.

I am in no way suggesting not celebrating anything or anyone, but to have a compassionate heart and think about those people who may not have had the same positive experience as you have.  Or to reach out to someone who has experienced the same loss.

Compassion from a friend is like a cozy blanket and a good movie on a dreary, rainy day.  The situation may not change, but the perspective does.

**********************************************************************************

To those who gave birth this year to their first child—we celebrate with you
To those who lost a child this year – we mourn with you
To those who are in the trenches with little ones every day and wear the badge of food stains – we appreciate you
To those who experienced loss through miscarriage, failed adoptions, or running away—we mourn with you
To those who walk the hard path of infertility, fraught with pokes, prods, tears, and disappointment – we walk with you. Forgive us when we say foolish things. We don’t mean to make this harder than it is.
To those who are foster moms, mentor moms, and spiritual moms – we need you
To those who have warm and close relationships with your children – we celebrate with you
To those who have disappointment, heart ache, and distance with your children – we sit with you
To those who lost their mothers this year – we grieve with you
To those who experienced abuse at the hands of your own mother – we acknowledge your experience
To those who lived through driving tests, medical tests, and the overall testing of motherhood – we are better for having you in our midst
To those who have aborted children – we remember them and you on this day
To those who are single and long to be married and mothering your own children – we mourn that life has not turned out the way you longed for it to be
To those who step-parent – we walk with you on these complex paths
To those who envisioned lavishing love on grandchildren -yet that dream is not to be, we grieve with you
To those who will have emptier nests in the upcoming year – we grieve and rejoice with you
To those who placed children up for adoption — we commend you for your selflessness and remember how you hold that child in your heart
And to those who are pregnant with new life, both expected and surprising –we anticipate with you
This Mother’s Day, we walk with you. Mothering is not for the faint of heart and we have real warriors in our midst. We remember you. 

 From Amy, at The Messy Middle

Death and Life

This weekend reminds me of God's great limitless power.

O death, where is your sting?
O hell, where is your victory?
O church, come stand in the light
Our God is not dead
He's alive! He's alive!

                                                    "Christ is Risen", Matt Maher


I can say (because I fully believe and have seen) that God resurrects hopes and dreams that have been laid to rest.  And restores lifeless marriages and deadbeat lives.  He continuously breathes life where there was only death - changing lives now and forever.

Along with giving life that never has to face the pain of death (major!),  I don't want to forget that God has the power to literally resurrect bodies, flesh and bones.

On this day, I still believe that God will bring what is dead in my all-too-human body and give it life.

It's Not You, It's Me.

I knew my Ping's warranty was going to expire in February - but with a family vacation on the horizon and a busy season overall, I put off the decision until March.

I don't know about you - but when it comes to choosing a life-sustaining, ridiculously expensive device, I research extensively and am deeply loyal to the companies that I choose to partner with. After all, I am relying on their product to trudge through this mess with me 24/7. 

I had done my due diligence in researching what was on the market and what was available to me, and I had made a decision that I was totally confident in.  But when the rep from Animas called to follow up on my expired warranty, there was a pit in my stomach.

"Hi," super cheery rep said, "I just called to follow up on your pump warranty.  I see that it's expired, and wondered if we could answer any questions you have or get a new one shipped out to you."

"Well, oh gosh, I dunno how to say this.  It's just that, IthinkIamgoingwiththeTandem."

"Oh, . . ."

I felt like we were breaking up. The apologies and rationalizations began pouring out.

"Four years ago I chose the Ping because you were the clear leader as far as innovation went - and I have even still recommended it to a friend who is newly diagnosed.  I love the Ping, but I don't use the features - like the waterproof and the remote as much as I am looking forward to having the IOB on the home screen.  I mean they have a 30 day trial - so I am just going to try it out."  I really felt like I should say - 'it's not you, it's me'.

"Did you know we are coming out with the Vibe and we are currently working on an upgrade program."

"Yeah, I saw that the battery life would be about 3 weeks - and I kinda like having a receiver that I can sit on my desk or music stand".

I asked a few more questions and she told me that if I had any recommendations to please let them know.

And just like that - our relationship was over. 

But when that Tandem box arrived at work I knew I had made the right decision.  In fact I had to move it to a coworker's cubicle so I would stop looking at it.

Here's to a new relationship with a new partner in crime.

Apology to the Maligned

It must have been cold there in my shadow . . . oh wait.  Let's try this again.

For years, I have referred to you as "lazy".  How else do you refer to something that seems to be slacking off, not doing what it is required to do, not even phoning it in?  It's like you quit.  Took an early retirement to go sit on your butt (do you even have a butt??) and soak in the sun.

But you didn't choose to be an underachiever.  You didn't write a paper in grade school about wanting to be a "free loader" when you grow up.  You aren't simply in a state of willful disobedience; stubbornly sitting in time out, waiting to cause more trouble once your 5 minutes is up.  You wanted to be a productive member of the body at large.

You were abused, by the ones you trusted to protect you.  They ganged up on you and attacked with a vengeance.  They saw you as a threat and they were just doing what they thought was right. But their malicious attack was unfounded. 

If there was something I could've done to save you I would have.

But, in all honesty, I never knew how much you did for me until you were gone.  Nobody says "I didn't have the Pancreas to tell you the bad news". Nobody ever sang, "If I Only Had a Pancreas". I had no idea that everyone would miss you so much, or the extent to which every system relies so heavily on you functioning properly.  Without your contribution my heart races, eyes fog, I lose the feeling that I once had, my brain gets cloudy and confused, my mouth gets dry, my words don't come out right - there is chaos without your contribution.

I am sorry that I didn't appreciate the time we had together.  I am doing my best to fill in for you, but the fact is, your never-ending-balancing-act-of-a-job seems so complicated to me - and there is never a vacation.

The entire company relied on your production - and though it wasn't your fault, you were the first to blame, when everything went wrong.


I guess I just forgot that sometimes we don't perform at our best, not because we are lazy, but because we have been wounded.

Friends?

Celebrating 10 Years of Early Retirement (or "Cheers to you, my Underacheiving Friend")

Ten years ago today, I officially found out that the D was in me.

I have learned a ton of things about life, love, faith, and biology.  Here's my list of the "Top Ten Things I am Thankful For":


10.  "Sugar-free" isn't as bad as it used to be.

9.  That my dislike of needles has not been scared away by a constant poking of my flesh. (Enter *sarcasm* here.)

8.  Laughter: this is hilarious (and addresses an ongoing debate that may go on forever).

7.  Family and friends that have read as many nutritional labels as I have.

6.  That I am finally using all that math I learned in school to calculate carbs, insulin doses, and basal rate adjustments.

5.  That I can rock a medical device tanline, like a boss.

4.  That, after 10 years of not doing this perfectly, the rest of my body is still working reasonably well, and the in-fighting has seemed to cease.

3.  That, yes, I DO know how much sugar is in that, and yes, I CAN eat it!

2.  I am thankful that on the day I was diagnosed I didn't know how complicated my life with diabetes would actually be.

1.  I am thankful that although I have spent the last 10 years, trying to "control" my diabetes, it doesn't control me.

Mama Told Me There'd Be Days Like These.

Ugh.  G'night.

It's a Fox!

Back in the day, while folding laundry or driving in the car, my dad would sporadically call out "it's a fox!" I would turn to look out the window, and  . . . (if we were doing laundry), red undies would, inevitably, land on my head.  I fell for the joke, once again.  In fact, I fell for it so often, that I began to question every time he pointed!

Today, some big news has hit the DOC via the Diabetes Research Institute (DRI). 

Here is the video from the DRI:

There are a lot of "would be"s,  "will be"s and "is creating", etc., but if you are not paying attention it seems like this is available now. The following paragraph speaks in reference to the BioHub in its visionary sense (from the DRI website's BioHub page).

The BioHub is a bioengineered “mini organ” that mimics the native pancreas. It contains real insulin-producing cells that can sense blood sugar and release the precise amount of insulin needed -- in real time.

To the millions living with diabetes, the BioHub brings the promise of natural insulin production and normal blood sugar levels one step closer to reality.

In their video the words, "miracle" and "cure" pop up.  Also, the woman (patient) featured in the video who 'is currently free from diabetes' received an islet transplant (the words quickly flash at the bottom of the screen) years ago and is not a recipient of the latest technology.  In fact most recipients of the transplant must maintain a regimen of anti-rejection drugs.

People who have lived with this disease a lot longer than I have, can attest to the fact that they have been hearing that there will be a cure in the next 5-10 years - and that they have been hearing that for the last 30 years.

Reading Amy Tenderich's piece on dLife is very helpful on negotiating the "breakthrough" news.

Diabetes Mine also has a great article on this latest news.

What I know today is I that my reality hasn't changed  . . . yet.  There are huge possibilities for closed-loop systems and artificial pancreai (?) from many companies.  I am grateful for continued research to end Type 1 diabetes and excited for the future!

Today, I have diabetes.  Tomorrow has not yet come.

. . . and a Dexcom Tan

Mastisol.

My diabetes supplier doesn't carry it, neither could I find it at my local pharmacy.

Enter Super Nurse Friend.  So I gained 6 vials of Mastisol before my vacation. 

I had never used it, but I heard rave reviews from tons of PWD (people with diabetes) who used it to improve and prolong adhesive (specifically Dexcom).

So I tried it.

After a week of salt water, pool water, sand, sun, and sweat, (plus a week of being home) the dexcom remained.

Enter one of the most unique tan "lines" I have ever had.

Sun, Sand . . .

I didn't look like a supermodel.

I didn't speak Spanish like a local.

Even though my first two goals didn't pan out, it was still an incredible week of rest, renewal, and time with family. (First on my agenda was a hug from my mom.  Long overdue, and just what I needed.)

 

 But on the diabetes side of things . . . my body loves the heat.

• I didn't get that 3:30pm craving for chocolate because I was too busy in chillin' in the pool.
• The heat enabled my body to use insulin way more efficiently - if I was high I didn't stay there long, and I used less insulin all 'round.
• I was more physically active than I am at my desk job - but only slightly.
• Stress took a major vacation.

When we tested out a new mattress, I didn't realize how bad the old one was when we slept on the new one.  I knew that the new one felt great - but it was only when we had to go back to the old one temporarily that I realized how bad the old one really was.  Waking up sore and tossing and turning all night was our normal. 

It was the same with vacation.

Hot dang, the weather was beautiful, the only decisions there were deciding "pool or hammock?" and the goal of each evening was to listen to the waves crashing against the beach, and feel the breeze off the bay. I didn't look at a screen (tv, computer, or otherwise) for a whole week. It. was. amazing.

What I realized on re-entry back home was that I have been living in a pretty high-strung pattern.  As soon as we landed, I was biting my nails, thinking about work responsibilities, my to-do list, and real-life.  Only after getting home after this totally relaxing vacation did I realize the crazy amount of stress that I had allowed myself to expect as "normal".

But as much as I would love to "live on vacation" my money tree orchard has not produced any fruit.

What I have determined is that I need to limit how stressed I get about things that don't require as much attention as I give them. (Lesson: Urgent = family emergency.  Not urgent = being down to my last Baby Ruth candy bar).

Near the end of our vacation we still hadn't realized the dream of going whale watching, and planning was proving to be a challenge without a phone or easily accessible internet.  My mom wisely said "I don't want to spend to much time striving to make this happen.  If it doesn't happen in one phone call, it's not worth the stress." 

She knew what striving or trying to force something to happen does - it sucks the 'vacate' out of vacation and replaces it with 'action'.

Here's to a mini-vacation every day (5 minutes would do).  And giving my body the rest it needs to deal with life's realities.

 

Loss.

June 2012.

I was exhausted - more so than I have ever been, except for maybe my life pre-diabetes diagnosis.  A few other symptoms popped up and on July 12th I decided to take a pregnancy test. 

It seemed to me that it couldn't turn blue fast enough (I passed!) and I made an appointment to get a blood test (along with my whole blood work panel) the next day to verify the results.

Everything looked good across the board, even my HbA1c was okay (6.9).  Being that an HCG hormone level of 5mIU/ml is not pregnant, my 79,000mIU/ml gave a pretty good indicator that, yes, I was pregnant.  I got in for an ultrasound the week after, because we had no idea how far along I was.  I was choosing names and googling "creative ways to announce pregnancy".  A few days later, we got the results.

The ultrasound showed that though I was 8 weeks along, there was no heart activity. 

We were shocked and devastated.  We asked - anonymously - for prayer.  I couldn't face people with questions, let alone sympathy, while I was trying desperately to hold it together at work.

I began the search for an OB that we could trust.  Through tons of questions to close friends I found a doctor that we were comfortable with.  She treated us with kindness and sympathy.

Ultimately, we were hoping that God would give us the miracle of life - we even dared to speak it out loud.  The night before the second ultrasound, I looked at my husband and whispered the words, "I want life."

A second ultrasound, almost 2 weeks after the first one, confirmed the initial findings.

Our young one was to go straight to heaven.

On August 6th I had a D&C to remove the fetal tissue since things didn't happen naturally (I even still felt pregnant up until that day).

We were heartbroken.


 . . . . . . . . . . . . Fast forward 5 months.

Due to a prompting from intuition (read: nausea), I got my HCG levels tested. 7,800mIU/ml - indicated a WAY lower number than my previous pregnancy (the only one I could compare it to).  I got tested again the week after and my levels had doubled. A good sign.  My A1c was also 6.1 - woot CGM!

The hubby and I were hesitant to get excited until I was further along, but we were cautiously encouraged by the doubling number.

On Wednesday, I began having a few very mild cramps.

While I was at work on Thursday, the cramps increased and I began to lose some blood. I called my doctor and we did some blood work and they scheduled me for an ultrasound on Friday morning.  I knew something was wrong.

After a night of no sleep, pain, and other unpleasantries (to say the very least), early Friday morning, I experienced a complete miscarriage.

Heartbreak. again.

_________________________________________________________________________

The doctor assured me that this was not my fault, nor the fault of diabetes.  We will do what we can to figure out, treat, and prevent this from happening again (inasmuch as we can control).

Guilt is already associated with miscarriage by women who don't have diabetes.  I struggled with the fact that I had taken over-the-counter medicine to get rid of a stubborn cold.  But I was assured by my doctor that it wouldn't have been enough to cause the miscarriage.  Today I had someone tell me that maybe I would "wonder about that extra candy bar I had eaten since that may have caused my miscarriage".  Ugh.  Thank goodness I had already done enough research to know that one high blood sugar can't cause a miscarriage.  But it still stung.  And I had no energy to set them straight.

It's not my fault.  And just because we didn't get the miracle we wanted doesn't mean that God doesn't like us.

Sometimes people think that life with Jesus is easy.  No more struggles - all good, all the time.  But the truth is that life with Jesus can introduce more complications.

I know He has the power to heal and to breathe life where there is none.  He has the power to resurrect the dead. 

But sometimes, He doesn't.  And He doesn't tell you why.

But then He makes beautiful things out of dust.

I will say that though there were times of excruciating heartache, my experience in the hospital and time of recovery were truly God blessed.  I wasn't anxious, and it was SO peaceful (a hospital is RARELY described as peaceful).  Even though we were in the valley of death, the Lord was with us.

We have also been given the gift of empathy with others who have suffered a similar loss.  In fact, God provided a dear friend on the day we scheduled the D&C.  We decided to stop somewhere we rarely go - and she was there.  Knowing that she had miscarried too, God used her hug and her words in a huge way to carry our burden.

This has also brought my husband and I closer together and Jesus has enabled us not to take it for granted if He does choose to grant us a child.  We couldn't set our wedding date like everyone else until 6 months of paperwork were completed (more on that later) - and the joy was multiplied on our wedding day because it had not been an easy road. And I believe it will be the same with childbirth.

I don't pretend to know every answer, or be blissfully satisfied with every bump in our road, but Jesus

gives peace where there is chaos

hope where there is despair

and joy where there is sorrow.


He makes beauty out of dust.

This is not good.

"This is not good."

"This is not good."

I just kept repeating it.

There I was, standing with my shirt wrapped around my shoulder which had allowed the alcohol that I just swabbed on my skin to dry, before I placed the new site for the dex.

The site was on my skin, I had pressed firmly on the adhesive so that it would stick.

I have been inserting sensors just like this for months, but this time was different.

As I slowly inserted the sensor with the inserter needle guiding it in, something sucked.  Bad.

Sonofamotherlessgoat. Holy. pain. Batman.

Let's be clear, I don't even deal well with perceived pain (you may not be in pain - but if it looks like you could be - I am feeling for ya).

With every slight press, pushing the needle further in caused shocking pain.

"This is not good."

"This is not good."

I began to feel weak, and pale.

I broke out into a sweat.

"Babe, what's going on?"

"This is not good.  The pain.  I'm gonna pass out from the pain."

He was up in a flash, tossing pillows on the floor beside me. 

"What do you need?"

I knew I couldn't pass out - the needle was only half way in, if I moved at all it would be twisting under my skin.

"What needs to happen, babe?"

It felt like my head was shoved in a glass jar - everything was muffled and echoing.  My knees were failing me - so he held me up. 

I needed to finish inserting the sensor and pull the collar up to remove the needle from my skin. Then I could hit the floor.

I got the insertion done and then I couldn't remember how to release the attachment from the site. It was like I was low. Fingers fumbled, squeezing tabs, and trying not to cry.

I could finally sit down.  Gagging insued.  My ears were ringing and buzzing loudly.  My forehead was covered in sweat.

"Are you okay?"

"Yep. Uh. Yeah. Thanks for everything." I managed a weak smile.


Well, that's was different.

All I Want For Christmas

My family and I did a small gift exchange this year. 

Due to the fact most of us travel and have limited space for storing large gag gifts in our residences, we have gone for "you-had-to-have-this" gifts.

This year my older sister was super excited.

As I slowly opened the gift I did the obligatory squeeze and shake to see if I could figure out what it was.

A stocking?

A toy for the cats?

And then it clicked.

Ah dang, I just got a pancreas for Christmas!

My sister walked by a big bin filled with guts and feverishly searched for a pancreas.

Most people may have laughed (which I did) and thanked her (which I did), but then I had a moment.

I was holding my very own pancreas.  An item which I had prayed for (well, okay, it wasn't exactly what I had prayed for).

I sighed.  And smiled.

Then, I put it on top of the 4 packages of Canadian-made cakes and chocolate my Dad got me.

Ha. Chew on that diabetes.

(you can get your very own guts for you or a friend at iheartguts.com - Enjoy!)

This Victory is Brought To You By . . .

July 13th was the date of my last A1c.  6.9.  Higher than I hoped but not outrageous.  Due to a tumultuous summer my sugar skyrocketed and my deductible vanished.

It was because we met our deductible on our HSA, that I approached my Doctor in September.

"So . . . I met my deductible."

"Ooh, so what else do you want to try out?"

And that's how I got the Dex.

I have loved it since I got it, and the additional challenge of keeping my blood sugar between the lines has been a nice change of pace in terms of my management (instead of test, react, forget for 8 hours, test, freak out, react).

Getting my blood drawn the other day, I automatically began to spout off reasons why my A1c won't be ideal.

"You know, I was really sick over thanksgiving."

"Christmas was packed with unknown carbs and goodies, and stress, and travel."

"My schedule has been way off."

The results came back the day after.

6.1.   SIX-POINT-FREAKIN'-ONE?!?!?!?

"THAT'S AWESOME!"

This is my lowest A1c that I can remember, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't squeal when I heard that.

This victory is brought to you by the letters C, G, and M.  I am so much more aware of what my sugar is doing, catching and bringing down the highs sooner, and keeping my mind engaged in daily corrections of blood sugar.

Boo. yah. 

Happy New Year - what a difference a letter makes.

It is the grand New Year's tradition to decide what you want to achieve in the upcoming year. 

Sure, I have set goals (read: said lofty things in honor of tradition), and put forth half a heart to succeed, but I really just expected failure.  

When the imminent derailment arrives (hello?! - I'm human!), I throw my hands in the air, wave the white flag, and wait another 362 days until the next fresh start.

What a difference a letter makes.

reS·o·lu·tion

[rez-uh-loo-shuh n] 

noun

1. a formal expression of opinion or intention made, usually after voting, by a formal organization, a legislature, a club, or other group. Compare concurrent resolution, joint resolution.

2. a resolve or determination: to make a firm resolution to do something.

3. the act of resolving or determining upon an action or course of action, method, procedure, etc.

4. the mental state or quality of being resolved or resolute; firmness of purpose.

5. the act or process of resolving or separating into constituent or elementary parts.

 

reV·o·lu·tion

 

[rev-uh-loo-shuh n]

noun

1. an overthrow or repudiation and the thorough replacement of an established government or political system by the people governed.

2. Sociology. a radical and pervasive change in society and the social structure, especially one made suddenly and often accompanied by violence. Compare social evolution.

3. a sudden, complete or marked change in something: the present revolution in church architecture.

4. a procedure or course, as if in a circuit, back to a starting point.

5. a single turn of this kind.

  

Resolutions?  ugh.  How 'bout a revolution!? Could it be that my reSolutions have lacked planning and determination? Has my "firmness of purpose" lacked passion and a vicious overthrowing of anything that gets in the way?

Not this year, my friend.  I have reconfigured my workout room, set a weekly schedule of possible workouts, set weekday and weekend schedules, and articulated specific goals for my mind, body, and soul. I have set in place times for rest and rejuvenation on a daily and weekly basis. I. want. change.

But most importantly, I have already set a standard of grace.  The schedules are to provide guidance and structure and will act as suggestions when I am too tired to decide what to do.  But when the day comes (and it WILL come) when my schedule gets knocked out of whack, I will not lose my resolve, but I will continue on with dogged determination.  Knowing that what I want to do, nay, what I need to do, will benefit me (and the person who lives with me) in the long run, I will persist. 

May you allow grace to lead you to live a life of discipline and grace. 

Here's to the new year - viva la revolucion!