I sat at my desk, surrounded by the glow of multiple screens, with yet another Coke Zero in my hand. Manning my perfected battle station. This had become my life: long hours, constant deadlines, and a relentless drive to support my family while trying to raise my kids right. But somewhere along the way, I stopped taking care of myself. It wasn't intentional—it just happened, one small choice at a time.
I've always been overweight, even when I was an avid cyclist. Back then, I spent hours on my bike, feeling the wind in my face and the burn in my legs. Cycling was my escape, my way of staying connected to the world and to myself. But life has a way of pulling you in different directions. First, it was the career, then the divorce, then remarriage and a move halfway around the world. The bike got left behind, literally and figuratively, as other priorities took over.
Somewhere along the way, diabetes became part of my story. At first, I didn't take it seriously. I thought I could manage it—like everything else in my life—on my terms. I briefly flirted with taking control, managing it with diet and medication. I followed through for a while, but when the trips to refill prescriptions became a scheduling hassle, my resolve faded. Sometimes, I'd wonder what was happening inside me, how far the damage had gone. The signs were there—cuts that took longer to heal, tingling in my feet, even sticky urine—but I brushed them aside, procrastinating like the ADHD-driven overthinker I often am.
The Wake-Up Call
Then came the wake-up call I couldn't ignore. I had to undergo surgery for a faulty gallbladder. My roommate in recovery was a man who had been ravaged by diabetes. He had paid dearly for ignoring it—limbs and fingers amputated one by one as the disease consumed him. He was there for yet another surgery to remove more of his leg. Watching him was like staring into a grim reflection of my potential future. His children came to visit, and he scolded them for bad grades as he lay there, rotting away, still ignoring the disease that had taken so much from him. I couldn't stop thinking about how much he had lost—not just his body, but the ability to be present for his family in any meaningful way.
I came out of that hospital bed determined to do better. And for a time, I tried. I made some changes, but the cycle of inconvenience and deadlines crept back in. Work, stress, and life piled on, and managing my health fell by the wayside once again. The long hours, the stress-fueled choices, and the constant deadlines were always there, pulling me further from what mattered most.
At a Crossroads
Now, I'm at a crossroads. I don't want to miss my children's accomplishments—their milestones, their successes, their futures. I've already missed enough, being apart from my first two children from my previous marriage. A repeat cannot happen—not with my younger ones, not with anyone. And yet, I can feel it happening already. I'm letting it happen, even as I tell myself I want to change.
I must find a path to take control. I have to. For my children, for my family, for myself. This is my story—unfinished and imperfect, but mine. And it's time I start rewriting it.
Taking Steps Forward
I'm not a chef—let's get that out of the way. But as an eater, I know my way around the kitchen. I've got just enough skill to make meals that are tasty and satisfying without spending half the day chopping, blending, and simmering like I'm auditioning for a cooking show. Life's too busy (and I'm too lazy) for that kind of culinary commitment.
In this blog, I'll be sharing some of the recipes I've adapted and modified to fit into my life—quick, easy, and diabetic-friendly without tasting like regret. Whether it's finding ways to bring pasta back into my carb-conscious world or crafting guilt-free desserts, they work for me, and maybe they'll work for you too.
This isn't just about recipes though. It's about the daily struggle to make better choices, to put my health first despite the demands of a busy life, and to be present for my family in all the ways that matter. Join me on this journey as I fight to rewrite my story, one choice at a time.