Diaversaries strike me as somewhat odd. Wishing someone a Happy Diaversary can feel awkward because I certainly would never wish diabetes on anyone. Yet I do want to cheer them on for the hard work they put into each year with diabetes.
Over the years my reaction to my own diaversary seems to vary. I’ve been reflective, I’ve been light and cheery, I’ve been sad and tired, and I’ve been fed up and feeling guilty. All of last week I sifted through emotions trying to figure out how I feel this year, and in the end I realized I feel nothing. Pete and I could have celebrated yesterday, the day I usually choose to symbolize whatever day in December I was actually diagnosed, but it didn’t seem worth the effort. Yesterday symbolically marked 12,418 days I’ve lived with diabetes. Just a day like any other in the past 34 years. Today I make my way through my 12,419th day with diabetes. Hopefully I have at least 12,000 more ahead of me. It doesn’t feel like something to celebrate. It doesn’t feel like something to morn. I’m not angry or proud or much of anything. It just is what it is . . . . . . just another day in my life as I trek onward.