So...um...it was my fourth diaversary yesterday.
And I completely forgot.
I didn't forget leading up to it; on Friday I was like Hey! Sunday's the 13th! I should celebrate! and then I didn't remember until today. The 14th. I completely missed it.
Last year I didn't remember until 8 oclock at night - but I didn't MISS it.
I mean, I guess that's good - it's really not a big deal, it's just a part of my life now.
But it should be important.
I feel like I've forgotten a really important birthday. (Like 18. Or 19. Or anything after that. XD)
I should have celebrated that four year mark. I should have had cake. (Although I did, unknowingly, have a celebratory ice cream).
I think about this day most of the year. It's really important. It shows how much I've conquered, how much I've come through, who I am today.
I shouldn't feel bad. It's just a day. It really doesn't matter.
It's just that now, I've been taking hormones made in a lab for four years.
The lovely golden retriever [stuffie] named Sage on my bed is four years old now.
Bubbles is almost two. Little Buddy was one. Together, that's been three years. In May, it will have been four years minus seven months.
I've had those extra needles for four years.
I haven't stayed for more than an hour in a hospital for four years.
My fingers have had callouses and poke holes for four years.
I haven't been able to properly enjoy a bagel for four years. (C'mon, guys. Sugar free bagels. They should exist by now).
A LOT has happened in the last four years. I've been to Europe without my parents. I've travelled for 20 hours next to strangers. I've become a babysitter with an awesome reputation (and a lot of cash in the bank!). I've discovered what I want to be when I grow up. I've made new friends, lost old ones. I've become Giggles. I've become a Sparks leader. Sparks have become some of my favouritest people in the world. I've become a knitter.
I haven't even been knitting for four years.
I've had diabetes longer than I've been doing a lot of the things that are the first thing people think of when they think of me.
It's just a day. It shouldn't matter.
But I still remember most of it, even though a lot of the details are quite foggy.
The worst part is that I still remember life before diabetes.
I remember what it was like to not have to check my blood sugar.
I remember what it was like to be able to eat a bagel without worries.
I remember what it was like to be able to go to a sleepover and not have to worry about crazy highs. (Seriously. Every time.)
I remember life before, and that hurts more than life after ever has.
Next year it will have been five years since that fateful day. That's a big number.
The enormity of it all makes me want to cry.