I still have the healing problems. I can still screw myself up no end on a candy bar, but without the pregnancy, I can have a little too much sugar and not have to crawl into bed any more. It's not like before I got diagnosed either where too much sugar and I'll sleep all weekend. I am tired, which I now attribute to nursing because honestly, my sugars are good.

I think it's the sustained weightloss. I'm putting less demands on my body and my body is appreciating it.

Mike got all nervous as we were talking about this that I was going to stop doing what I've been doing. He said that I was so healthy now. I agree. I am. And I'm lacking on the exercise thing, but I'm working on that. Nursing has been really difficult to schedule around, honestly. Just having a baby is such hard work. Last night, I walked all over the mall and I felt pretty good. Of course, today my feet are killing me, but I don't mind. I got some exercise in.

No, I'm just not so ignorant as to assume that I can stop all this hard work and go back to nightly pints of Ben & Jerry's. To me, I'm just learning a routine of controlling my diabetes that I can make lifelong, in order to prolong my life. I won't stop buying no sugar added ice cream for the "real" stuff just because I think I can get away with it. I won't stop exercising. I won't die.

I think that's the bitch about type 2 diabetes. I have the ability to control the progress of the disease by controlling my food. But as a recovering bulimic, I have to constantly remind myself that my life is a blessing and that it is a function of a higher power that just for today, I will eat healthily.

My family supports me in this. They worry about what I eat. When we're out, Mike orders food for me based on things we know I should avoid. Russell worries about how much sugar I can eat. I know Genny will, too. With all of that support, I am simply as loved as can be, and therefore, clearly, I am not lonely.

Loneliness to me is the groundzero of bulimia, and of all eating disorders. I ate to fill a void in my life because I felt lonely. With my family, I gave away my void and love filled the crannies and crevices of my life. My abusive past is just that: past.

The abuse I suffered is part of who I am. I now think of it as a badge of honor. Surviving abuse has given me an edge above and beyond a lot of people. I have insight into people and friends that I would never have had without that. Knowing to ask one of my dearest friends,"Have you ever been sexually abused or molested?", got her into counseling and reunited her with her first and only love.

Being able to embrace my difficult past has made my difficult present, a whole lot easier. It's helped me look down the jaws of diabetes and knock it's teeth out.

A miracle happened today. I have no idea how to categorize it either.

Russell slept in

Russell, who I've known all nearly seven of his years has NEVER, I repeat NNNNNEEEEEEVVVVVVVVVEEEEEERRRRR slept in. Okay, there was the one time he slept until 830 when he was around 3 and he'd been sick, but I almost fell over when it was 930AM and no Russell! I checked his room and he's out cold in his bed.

Then the reality hit.

He's growing up.

I'm getting old.