Mind Full

I woke up this morning feeling so energized. I dunno what it is. Quite possibly that I'm eating well and having diabetes numbers where they are supposed to be in probably a year or two. I started feeling pretty bad physically a few months back. My doctor took one look at my numbers and asked "WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?!" I had to admit, the last year and some change had been a doozy. Plenty of cross country traveling (which tends to lend to some pretty bad eating), deaths of two of my favorite relatives, pretty much back to back. I hadn't seen the inside of a gym in forever. I could tell that my body was falling apart too, which was why I finally booked a doctor's visit. He took pity on me and prescribed me a medicine that's been helping to get my diabetes in check while I get my diet and my head back together.

I went for a follow up yesterday, and I've lost 7 pounds and my blood sugar is now in the normal range. The wild thing is that it isn't just the meds that got me together (although they damned sure helped). It was that I'm actually using mindfulness to control what I eat. I just remind myself to stay in the present in terms of eating healthy, low-starch meals, and I'll eat bad whenever, but just not today. And I give myself the same message every day. Been like this for roughly 12 days now. And in the 12 days, I'm seeing the weight loss rapidly, but more importantly, I'm just feeling so good. So alive. I eat fruit like crazy and my water intake is insane. But I woke up feeling good, so obviously, this is working.

Speaking of mindfulness, I've fallen off of finding a publisher for my book, but my plan is to spend today getting back on it. I woke up thinking that I could go sit in a coffeehouse for a few to get some things done, but I came downstairs for breakfast and saw my beautiful, newly finished office (that I finally got around to decorating) and decided that I can just sit in here instead. It's reminiscent of my time with my departed friend Andrea. That's wasn't my plan, initially. But before I knew it, I'd painted it the same color we'd put on her walls the last time we hung out, and I put up a wallpaper, similar to what she'd planned to put in her home. I think she'd be proud of me.

I got up this morning and managed to post something on my business page on Instagram. I really need to find out how to make my own memes to post. I think it would allow me to personalize the page that much more, and allow me to rely less on the works of others. My plan is to get on YouTube today and watch videos on illustrators programs. The page was initially supposed to be about promoting my book, but it's become it's own entity, working alone with the book. I got an LLC and a logo. I want to eventually expand to products to sell, which goes along with the premise of the lifestyle brand. I finally got around to paying to promote the page, which has helped increase my following. As I work on increasing the following, I'm just wanting to focus on the quality of my posts. As much as I love social media, sometimes I hate having to publish so much, and I only do it occasionally. I know that's what's needed to build a following. But I hate it. I'd much rather focus on real life. But in some way, I feel like I have a duty to the people that need the message that I'm trying to deliver. Mindfulness. Being present. Compassion toward ourselves and others. Forgiveness. That's what I'm trying to give to the world.

On another note, another friend of mine died. This makes the 6th person I've known in 5 years to die. And I work in hospice. Sometimes I almost feel like I'm running from the ghost of Ali's death. I go to work and I do pretty well at compartmentalizing death. Like I can share with a patient's family that I understand loss, as I've dealt with it on my own, so I get it. But I leave it like that, and I allow them to have the moment. But the cases I've dealt with lately have been so freaking tragic that it's hard not to really get in your head about how fucked up some situations are. Again, with my patients, I keep it together. But once I get home and decompress, man oh man. 

So anyway, my friend, Conchata died. Chetta was like my little sister. I met her through my ex's cousin nearly 15 years ago. She was around for so much fuckery I encountered with him, plus she witnessed his fuckery with other women. Through our online antics, I became Facebook friends with her sister as well. Conchata posted recently that she was in the hospital. I inboxed her and asked if she needed me to bring her something. She said that she's not having any visitors at the moment, but that I could see her when she got out. 

Her sister had inboxed me a bit later, warning that she had a cardiac arrest earlier in the day, and the doctors warned the family that she may not make it through the night. I'm not one for prayer, but I damned sure held out hope. Cuz there was no way in hell that she wouldn't make it. Her sister asked me to call Conchata's ex and let him know that the worst was possible. That was hard. That was damned hard. But even still, I hoped that she'd be okay.

By the following morning, I'd heard nothing, which I took as a good sign. I messaged her sister. She didn't make it. I'm still processing. Like I'm not bawling the way I was when my other friends died. I had to practically be pried off my couch after Pete died. I was a zombie when Andrea died. When Ali died, I think he took a part of me with him. But Conchata dying just seems so unreal. And working with young cancer patients and other things, it's so hard not to get cynical at the whole of it. I'd really like a break from death. 

Anyway, I guess I'll get off to my day. I might just hit a coffeehouse after all. I want to get out. I want to breathe. I want to learn. I want to create. I want to let my mind wander, so I can focus on ways to expand my brand. I want to eat plenty of veggies and fruit. I want to be present. I want to be mindful.