when life gives you lemons

the quiet hum of the fan

the flicker of light reflecting off the patio’s glass doors

the soft click, click, click of my insulin pump

as it pairs with the app on my phone

i rest my head in my hands —

if i stay still long enough

i can feel myself begin to drift back to sleep

— not yet —

the clicking stops and i adhere the tape to my skin

5 more clicks and it’s on

3 more days till it’s off and we start again

i stay still

i pick up my phone

and i reflect…

seventeen years ago i journaled about turning lemons into lemonade.

seventeen years later and i find myself feeling similarly but i’ve also learned so much about this disease and it’s place in my life.

it’s is a full time job i never signed up for. there’s no days off, no pause button. it’s there when life is busy and chaotic. it’s there when things are exciting and new. and just when things start to feel quiet and calm, it whispers, “don’t you worry, i’m still here.”

it’s a constant in my life, yet it’s not always consistent — changing day by day, sometimes minute by minute.

it requires resilience and acceptance. it also requires an abundance of patience and flexibility.

the older i get the more i’ve learned that it’s less about turning lemons into lemonade and more about tending to the lemon tree itself.

when lemons are in season they come quick, falling to the ground fast, making it hard to keep up.

some get missed but hey, we try again the next day. some are sweet and others sour. and when they aren’t quite in season…it’s quiet, less to keep up with, leaving more time to focus on mending other parts of the garden.

seventeen years and i still feel like it was just yesterday that i was walking through the doors of children’s hospital, scared and confused and desperate for pancakes from denny’s.

yet somehow, seventeen years have passed and i feel so proud of how far i’ve come.

to the hard things that teach us, that inspire us, that shape us — thank you.