Diabetes, Home and Family, My Awakening, Uncategorized

I Don’t Know the Future… and that’s Okay.

kelseybonilla

As I’m typing this, I’m trying to keep my hood over my left eye as much as possible so I can see relatively clearly. I’m five days out from an eye surgery called a vitrectomy. Almost two years to the day after my first disruptive vessel bleed caused by diabetic retinopathy, this surgery was another step in the process of treating this complication from living with Type 1 Diabetes for over 30 years.

If you’ve read this blog on and off, (particularly back before I started teaching and my writing time took a significant nose dive!) you’ll know that I went through a personal process of emotional growth back in 2013. Learning to trust God, let go of control, feel my feelings, and be present in the moment were the lessons I needed to learn and life was infinitely more fulfilling, joyful, and connective afterwards. One of the takeaways I’ve relearned again and again is that I really don’t know what the future holds. I used to plan excessively because it helped me to feel in control, especially of my feelings of anxiety. Learning to let go of that illusion of control, trusting God to lead my steps and provide his gifts has given me a deep sense of freedom and delight.

After a busy school year, the last several weeks have given me time to slow down. I’ve been acutely aware that I don’t know what the next experience will be like, both in surprisingly good and frustrating ways.

Our adventure to the Higher Things Conference in Wisconsin was so rewarding and fun! Everything about this experience was new for me and the youth from our church. We literally didn’t know where or what we would eat on campus for the first few meals (flying from California, we arrived 24 hours before the first conference meal was served!). Fortunately, a semipro baseball team, the Lakeshore Chinooks, were playing a game right by our dorms, just after we arrived. We made the spontaneous decision to eat at the game and enjoyed a delightful Midwest summer night at the ballpark!

From the divine services to the breakaway sessions, so many wonderful, gospel messages were shared during the retreat. The girls bonded and stayed up way too late each night talking, the boys got a chance to exercise their independence and navigate the campus on their own, and I took many long walks along Lake Michigan soaking in the stillness and beauty of God’s creation. I also marveled at how quickly people adapt to their new surroundings. From the dorm accommodations to the labyrinth like campus tunnels, to the rhythm of meals and activities; what felt unfamiliar became routine and comfortable in just a few short days. My feelings ebbed and flowed all throughout the trip to Wisconsin and trusting God made it possible for me to accept and appreciate the transformation.

My eye surgery was scheduled for exactly one week after we returned from Higher Things. Going into the procedure, I was mostly praying for peace and calm nerves. I have a history of fainting when getting an IV placed, so that was foremost in my mind. My doctor and I had agreed on general anesthesia (which I’ve had before), so I felt okay about that part. Dennis drove me to the Shiley Eye Center at UCSD and waited there with me before the surgery. I had a wonderful prep nurse named Ana who gently asked “So, you don’t have any trouble with needles, right?” as she prepared the IV. I’m sure she assumed that after 30+ years of diabetes, I was immune to needles. “Actually, I’ve had a phobia of needles for years and have a history of fainting,” I replied.

She proceeded to prep my right hand for the IV. This process always takes awhile because I have extremely small, rolling, and seemingly invisible veins. It took her awhile to identify a vein, but she didn’t make a big deal of it and I just chatted with Dennis about random memories from childbirth (hospitals always bring those memories flooding back!). She got the IV on the first stick while I breathed deeply and DID NOT faint! First hurdle passed!

Then, the anesthesiologist came in to talk with me. I totally didn’t catch his name. He explained that they weren’t going to put me totally under (read: not getting general anesthesia) due to the nature of the surgery, noting that if they could sedate me without having to put me on a ventilator, that was obviously preferable. He then explained that they’d inject a “block” by my eye and that’s “the only place you’ll feel pain…” At which point tears started to flow. “Wait, I thought I was having general anesthesia,” I said quietly. He then clarified, “Oh, you’re going to experience exactly the same thing as if you were fully under.” Okay. At this point, I tried to calm down and pray. I really had no choice but to trust God and the doctors. It’s not so much the pain I feared but being conscious of what was happening and then fainting. As it turns out, I was completely unconscious about one minute after he injected the sedation medication into my IV! They wheeled me out the double doors to the OR and that’s the last thing I remembered before they woke me up in recovery.

It’s been an enlightening process of acceptance dealing with my vision post-op. I don’t know what I was expecting but it’s definitely more challenging than I anticipated. When they said my vision would be blurry for a week or two, I didn’t realize that meant that I wouldn’t be able to see at all out of my left eye. True, with one functioning eye, my overall vision is blurry, but it’s quite distracting and hard to focus with that degree of blurriness. Basically, there’s an air bubble in my left eye where the vitreous was removed, which I can see slowly moving down in my vision. I can’t see anything else though. One benefit of dealing with persistent, intermittent floaters in my left eye for the past two years, is that I learned that covering that eye completely eliminates the issue. So, after they removed the patch at the post-op appointment the day after surgery, and I realized how disabling my vision was, I had to figured out a way to cope. Fortunately I was wearing a hooded sweatshirt. The solution really took care of itself! So, for the past few days, I’ve been able to watch a lot of Wimbledon matches, read for both school and pleasure, and watch Christmas Hallmark movies for our annual “Christmas in July” tradition, all my covering my left eye with a hood.

I’ve certainly had my moments of frustration over the past week. I already miss running and I don’t know how long it’ll be until I’m cleared to resume running or my usual level of activity. But, acceptance that I don’t know the future is helping me stay in the moment. I didn’t know the joy that awaited us in Wisconsin. I didn’t know precisely the challenges that surgery and the post-op experience would bring. I don’t know how quickly my vision will improve. But, I’m okay. My family is taking good care of me and I’m extremely grateful for a family culture that allows for a lot of sitting around, reading, talking, being creative, watching sports, and just vegging.

Thank you for your support on this journey…

Lutheranism, Uncategorized

Receiving Grace and Gifts at Higher Things

kelseybonilla

For years I’ve heard about a Lutheran conference led by the organization Higher Things. Last summer, my pastor and I started talking about the possibility of our small youth group attending one of the conferences this summer. Plans were set in motion and amidst the busyness of the school year, we planned and held fundraisers, registered, booked flights, held pre-conference Bible studies, and anticipated this adventure.

The last two months of the school year were hectic and I generally felt disconnected emotionally and spiritually while I strove to get everything done and react to the next thing on my calendar or “to do” list. As I caught my breath after wrapping up my post-planning week, I eagerly anticipated our trip to Mequon, Wisconsin to attend Higher Things, 2024: “Who Am I?” on the campus of Concordia University, Wisconsin. Our small group from Gloria Dei Lutheran included Sienna, Mateo, Travis, Brady, Emma, and my co-chaperone chaplain Brian. I didn’t know what exactly to expect and the novelty of doing something completely unfamiliar was a joy.

I’m struggling to put this experience into words. It was incredible! Our days were grounded in attending liturgical services in the spectacular Chapel of Christ Triumphant with the most amazing acoustics, including Matins in the morning, Vespers after lunch, Evening Prayer at night. Then, we gathered at the bluff overlooking Lake Michigan late at night for Compline. Lutherans are known as the “singing church” and that identity was on full display during this conference. Sitting in the chapel with 1,000 other Lutherans (mostly teenagers!) and hearing the echo of “Lord have Mercy” sung in unison felt like a foretaste of the heavenly choirs of angels.

After the first Divine Service in which eight communion hymns were sung while 1,000 people participated in the Lord’s Supper, our group commented that it felt like the service went by quickly, even though it was close to 2 hours long. What a joy!

In addition to the liturgical services, we enjoyed five breakaway sessions over the three day conference, each of which related to the overall theme of finding our identity in Christ. I really enjoyed a session called “A Biblical Case for Rest” and another entitled “Self Esteem is Demonic”. Both encouraged us to see ourselves rightly as sinful creatures that receive every good gift of rest, grace, and righteousness through Christ. What the world deems as “healthy” self esteem is often an excuse for pride and reliance on one’s good works, which ultimately drives us away from God.

The main theme that stood out, for me, was the emphasis on biblical marriage and the self sacrifice of man and woman as related to Christ and the church, as described in Ephesians 5. One plenary session, a breakaway session on “Dating and Marriage” and a sermon was devoted to this topic! I was moved by the description: “Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, that he might sanctify her…” (Ephesians 5:25). Relatedly, wives are called to submit or subordinate themselves to their husbands. This sounds radical in our postmodern world, but as a woman who struggles with feeling responsible to do everything, it’s actually liberating to realize that I’m not ultimately “in-charge” but have a strong husband to rely upon. What a gift!

It felt incredibly grounding to slow down, receive God’s gifts, and hear over and over again that my righteousness is found in Christ’s sacrificial death and resurrection, not in my striving. Watching Sienna, Teo, and our friends from church likewise receive these gifts and marvel at the joy of worshiping, learning, and playing with other Lutheran teenagers was pure joy!

Also, the campus has the most spectacular views of Lake Michigan! They had this looping path that you could stroll down to reach the beach. Then, you could gently walk back up or take the nearly 200 steps in the long staircase. We went often and took both routes! I was captivated by this beautiful lake and the lovely trails running down the bluff and along the lake, especially at night when the lightning bugs came out! I’d never seen them before and they were delightful!

I’m incredibly grateful for this trip and the many things we learned and remembered about our faith and life. Looking forward to Higher Things 2025!

Home and Family, Uncategorized

Life’s About Changing…

kelseybonilla

I saw my beloved counselor Carolyn last Friday afternoon. As our session neared, I found myself wondering what we’d talk about. My week had been full of teaching, grading, cooking, watching basketball games at school, and talking to biology students about diabetes. Generally, I felt pretty centered and peaceful, especially in comparison to our last session.

But, as I’ve learned over the years, the process of “feeing my feelings” is never ending. There are always emotions present or repressed that need to be processed. 

Sure enough, as I talked to Carolyn about my recent realization that I’d repressed a lot of the emotion around my mom’s cancer battle, strong feelings did arise. She’s wonderful about helping me allow the waves of sadness to happen so that I can feel them instead of instantly trying to make sense of them with words (which is absolutely my default approach!). 

Turns out, watching my mom in such a fragile state and honestly quite close to death, brought up a lot of fears about losing my people. In nearly 44 years, the only close loved ones I’ve lost were grandparents in their mid-90s. Deep grief and mourning are not emotions I’ve experienced… yet. The fact that they inevitably will be, that’s what brought me to tears. 

Suddenly, and not for the first time over the past few weeks, a lyric from an old Patty Loveless song popped into my mind as I sat in my counseling session, letting the wave of sadness crest over me. ”Life’s about change and nothing ever stays the same…” rang through my mind. Turns out I had the lyric slightly wrong (you’ll see) but nevertheless, the truth of the sentiment hit me hard. 

As I started to tell Carolyn about this lyric, the next line occurred to me and I cried harder. ”How can I help you to say goodbye? It’s okay to hurt and it’s okay to cry…” 

“It’s so weird, I haven’t heard that song in like a decade,” I told her.

Our session wrapped up shortly after this realization. Intrigued by the memory and sensing that the song had more depth to reveal, I got into my car and searched for Patty Loveless songs on Pandora. I quickly found it and listened to the entire song. 

It’s one of those wonderful country songs that tells a story. The chorus is consistent but the verses unfold to reveal new meaning in the chorus each time it repeats. It starts with a young girl, brokenhearted because she’s moving away from her best friend. In tears she turns to her mom:

Mama whispered softly, Time will ease your pain
Life’s about changing, nothing ever stays the same

And she said, How can I help you to say goodbye
It’s okay to hurt, and it’s okay to cry
Come, let me hold you and I will try
How can I help you to say goodbye

Sitting in my car, my crying turned to sobbing when I heard the final verse:

Sitting with Mama alone in her bedroom
She opened her eyes, and then squeezed my hand
She said, I have to go now, my time here is over
And with her final word, she tried to help me understand
Mama whispered softly, Time will ease your pain
Life’s about changing, nothing ever stays the same

And she said, How can I help you to say goodbye
It’s okay to hurt, and it’s okay to cry
Come, let me hold you and I will try
How can I help you to say goodbye

Are you kidding me?! I did not consciously remember that this song was literally about a mother on her deathbed helping her daughter say goodbye to her. But, deep down, I must have. Or, the Holy Spirit brought it to my mind since he knows that I sometimes need some poignant words to help me feel my deepest repressed feelings. Either way, I am so grateful for this song.

Reflecting now, there’s so much I love about the way this song suddenly reemerged in my life. First, I relate to the girl in the song. I always call my mom when life gets difficult or I face a challenge. She’s helped me to navigate the hardest times in my life. 

Also, it’s interesting the way I remembered the lyric as “Life’s about change and nothing ever stays the same” when it’s actually “Life’s about changing nothing ever stays the same”. The way I remembered it, there’s a sense of something bad happening to you. But, in the actual lyric, it’s more like you are constantly changed by life experiences. It doesn’t have the same sense of foreboding, instead it suggests growth. 

As I drove home, I called my mom to tell her about the song. As I described it, she said “Well that’s a tear-jerker!” Indeed, it was, and is. Thank you, Lord for bringing it to mind when I needed it.

My Awakening, Uncategorized

Letting Go of 2023…

kelseybonilla

As the holiday season came to a close and the quietness of winter (such as it is in sunny San Diego) settled around me, I opened my current read, Commonwealth by Ann Patchett, to chapter two. It was the night of December 30th and Dennis was asleep beside me. Our later schedule over Christmas break had me reading late at night. 

The second chapter opened to a scene decades in the future from where chapter one left off. Suddenly the father was in his 80s and fighting cancer.  I read a line where the nurse asked him, “You’re drinking your Boost?” and burst into tears. As I lay in bed, crying for all that my mom endured over 2023, the year that was rapidly coming to an end, it occurred to me that maybe I hadn’t processed all my emotions brought on by my mom’s long, arduous, and ultimately successful fight against cancer.

Trying to get a cancer patient to take in calories, such as those specially formulated in Boost, is a major part of caretaking and nursing someone through the aftershocks of chemotherapy. I knew that now, intimately. I didn’t know that a year ago. I could relate to that simple hope, “You’re drinking your Boost?” in a way I never imagined I would. 

Since that night, I’ve been slowly peeling back the layers of protection I’d built around myself since last summer. I’m ridiculously good at repressing my feelings and this past summer my overwhelm pushed me to adopt new coping strategies to add to my repertoire of being “in my head” and keeping busy. As the holiday season unfolded, I generally felt joyful as we celebrated the birth of Christ, but I also felt disconnected from the moment. My feelings were hard to access and likewise my connection to my loved ones didn’t feel as deep and meaningful. 

Through prayer and the self-reflection that New Years brings, I recognized that strategies like zoning out on social media, keeping extremely busy, and ending the day with a relaxing glass or wine (or two) had all contributed to a general numbing and distancing from my feelings. No wonder the thought of a Boost triggered all that unresolved emotion! 

Around our kitchen table on New Year’s Eve, I asked my family what they felt marked our year. After a brief moment, Dennis replied, “Your mom’s cancer.” It brought tears to my eyes that he recognized and affirmed what we’d all experienced that year. 

Just a couple weeks before we’d taken my mom out for her belated 70th birthday dinner and she shared her gratitude for our sacrifice as a family during her cancer treatment. In that moment, sitting at Larrupin in Trinidad (IYKYK), my emotions felt hard to access, like that season involved too much pain to bring into this joyful moment of birthday celebration. 

Reflecting on that feeling of not feeling deeply, I came into January seeking to let go of control, stop using numbing strategies, and allow myself to feel my emotions again. If you’ve read this blog over the past 9 years, you’ll notice a recurring theme!  This cycle of acceptance and letting go was also accompanied by some nights of insomnia, which is my special barometer for when repression and control has gone too far.

So, I may have more to blog about now that I’m allowing myself to feel my feelings again… I hope your New Year is also full of growth, grace, and goodness. 

Diabetes

30 Years.

kelseybonilla

Yesterday I celebrated living with Type 1 Diabetes for 30 years. A milestone anniversary for a chronic disease may seem like an odd thing to celebrate. But, it’s a testament to the power of reframing to intentionally take time to celebrate that I’ve lived well for three decades with this disease, one that they said would be cured in 5 years back when I was diagnosed in 1993!

My family has grown accustomed to my “diabetes anniversaries” since I self-proclaim them every year. So, I received phone calls, flowers, and many “Happy Anniversary!” declarations from my loved ones!

I decided that 30 years should be set aside more specifically so we planned to be up at our family ranch for an entire day by the pool, reading, relaxing, and being together. Last week I said to Dennis, Sienna, and Mateo: “It may be presumptuous to assume my diabetes means anything to you… but for my anniversary can we just talk about my diabetes? I’m curious how it impacts you, how you feel about it, that kind of thing.” They all agreed to think about it. Bless them!

At dinner time, we started to talk about diabetes and Dennis jumped right in by saying he’s always been impressed with my attitude and ability to take care of my diabetes rather than to fight it. The kids similarly echoed that they feel like I manage it so well that sometimes they forget I’m even dealing with it. It sort of felt like I was fishing for compliments! But, they were sweet and sincere. Sienna said that she and Teo have only ever known having a mom with diabetes, so it’s just normal to them. Perspective.

When I try to put into words what 30 years of living with Type 1 Diabetes means to me, I struggle. It’s been a constant companion through so much of my life. I never doubted that I’d live a normal life, which may be partly because of the blind optimism that characterizes my outlook on life!

It certainly hasn’t been easy and managing diabetes has changed with the seasons of life. My teenage years involved a lot of highs and lows (both emotionally and blood sugar-wise!). I have memories of sitting down in the kitchen of my childhood home, eating excessively to correct a nighttime low in my late teens. Then in college, the biggest scare came in the summer after my freshman year when I experienced my one and only episode of diabetic ketoacidosis and was hospitalized with a Ph level “not compatible with life”. That was a wake-up call at age 19 that diabetes was serious and I had to pay much better attention.

Having healthy children after managing my blood sugar extremely tightly for at least a year is perhaps the accomplishment I’m most proud of. It brings tears to my eyes to remember the focus, devotion, and utter joy I felt during those seasons. It says a lot about my personality that I loved the rigor of logging my blood sugars and testing 12-15 times per day to achieve better than normal blood sugars during my pregnancies! My A1C in the middle of Sienna’s pregnancy was 5.0% which is lower than a non-diabetic! Oh, how I loved receiving those gold stars!

However, it wasn’t all unicorns and rainbows… when Mateo was born at 9 pounds, 1 ounce, he was considered a “big baby” and his blood sugar was low at birth. These are both common issues for babies of diabetics, which was reiterated to me over and over when he went to the NICU. The nurses and doctors continually referred to him as a “diabetic baby” which was like a dagger to my heart each time. I felt like I’d failed this time around, since Sienna didn’t deal with these complications. In the end, the hospital was being overly cautious in keeping him in the NICU for a week when he was strong and healthy. We like to tell Teo that, since he was so much bigger than the other babies in the NICU, it “looked like he ate the other babies!”.

A few years after Teo was born I took a break from wearing an insulin pump because I was tired of being tethered to it all the time. My inclination towards order and routine serves me well and I happen to not need very much insulin, so using multiple daily injections (MDI) works for me. One of the blessings of having diabetes in this day and age is the many options for managing blood sugar. I’ve liked the ability to change up my management to reinvigorate my focus and motivation.

About a year ago, I had a huge mental breakthrough with how to interpret the data from my Dexcom continuous glucose monitor (CGM). I’ve worn it consistently ever since and it really has helped me manage my blood sugar more easily. My family can attest that I still have moments when stubborn highs frustrate me and trigger feelings of failure, but they are few and far between.

Currently, I’m in the process of getting back on an insulin pump. The new technology involves integration with the CGM to provide a “closed loop” of sorts, which allows the pump to correct highs and prevent some lows by automatically giving a correction dose or reducing the basal rate based on the CGM data. I’m mostly looking for this to help with overnight highs that are more difficult to manage with injections. I’ll write more about this system as I transition to it, because I imagine it will trigger a lot of emotional challenges as I release “control” to the pump.

This milestone of 30 years of diabetes has passed and I woke up today to manage my diabetes again. It’s always there. My blood sugar always needs to be considered. There really is no day off from diabetes. But, for all the strife and struggle its brought to my life, it’s also encouraged me to each healthfully, exercise regularly, and generally prioritize my health. My feelings toward diabetes are complicated and really span the entire spectrum of emotions. There are times its a source of pride and accomplishment, times I hate it for all the hassle and feelings of failure it triggers, and many times when its just there, quietly running in the background, not causing any particular feelings.

Now I’m off to live my life, with diabetes just along for the ride.

Uncategorized

Nothing in the way…

kelseybonilla

Being still is something I continue to struggle with, nearly ten years after starting a blog called “Be Still and Know” which is both ironic and a completely natural human experience. Lately, I’ve felt this lack of stillness in my need to distract myself from moments that felt uncomfortable. While I’ve grown a lot in recognizing when the desire to control my feelings has taken over, it turns out I’m creative in tricking myself into thinking I’m accepting my feelings when I’m actually not.

A couple weeks ago, while home in Humboldt, my sister Sarah gave me Ann Voskamp’s book Waymaker to read. I’ve been in a bit of a reading slump after a couple books (one for fun and one for school) that I didn’t enjoy at all. So, I embraced this bookish serendipity and started to read. Sometimes just the right book comes along at just the right time. Thank you, Jesus!

After marking several passages throughout the book, I came to these lines: “…Driven and motivated to always feel okay is not a steadying way to navigate your one life. If your only way to navigate your inner landscape is to manipulate, control, and dominate your outer landscape, you’ve lost the map to joy” (Waymaker, pg. 302).

Oh, this is so relatable! Previously in life, my attempts to control my outer landscape involved excessive planning, many rules around food and exercise, and generally avoiding anything that would upset me. In recent months, I’ve found myself turning addictively to an afternoon coffee, alcohol at night, bedtime snacking, and a compulsion to scroll social media. I somehow started watching cheerleading stunt and jump roping reels on a regular basis!

While I’d learned that planning, monitoring, and rule-making were red flags that I was controlling my emotions and needed to practice acceptance and surrender to my beloved Savior, these newer habits crept up on me slowly and insidiously. They were little, common activities that I could easily justify. However, in my heart of hearts, in those moments I became still enough to listen, I knew that these activities were all meant to make me feel “good” and/or repress feeling “bad”. They were control strategies, many of which (as a diabetic) had real consequences for my health.

Years ago I read a book called Women, Food, and God by Geneen Roth. Since many of the routines I was noticing surrounded food, I decided to pick it up again to see which passages I’d marked in my previous read. This one hit home:

Eventually, we get so tired of trying to fix ourselves that we stop. We see that we’ve never been able to make ourselves good. Never been able to accomplish ourselves into being someone else. And so we stop trying. We see there is no goal, no end place, no test to take. No one is keeping score. No one is watching us and deciding whether we are worthy enough to ascend. As one of my teachers once said: “You can’t be stuck if you’re not trying to get anywhere.” Eventually we see that it was the investment in brokenness, the constant effort to fix ourselves, that was the very thing that kept the wholeness at bay. If you think that your job is to fix what is broken, you keep finding more broken places to mend (pg. 72-73)

My attempts to fix myself are, again, somewhat more concealed than they used to be. Now, it seems that I’m trying to fix my emotional reaction to life by repressing my feelings and continuing to cope well, regardless of the hard moments I experience. On some level, I decided to keep marching on and handling everything well by not breaking down or letting the difficult feelings in. But, I needed to control my inner landscape through my outer landscape of distraction, stimulants, and/or numbing.

Being still is not enough, in and of itself. Learning to trust God in moments of struggle, anxiety, or fear is the most rewarding work. When I distract and/or numb, I am literally blocked from accessing the peace that trusting God delivers. Allowing myself to feel pain and discomfort is the path that leads to experiencing God’s love and provision. He’s is always God and always tenderly in-charge of my life. True peace and comfort comes when I rest in His goodness with nothing in the way to distract me.

Uncategorized

Coping Strategies.

kelseybonilla

It’s been a very challenging year and I haven’t written much about it because the events are more my mom’s story to tell than mine. Also, I don’t want to leave the impression that my time spent caring for my mom this year was a burden. While it was hard, I also feel fulfilled to have walked many parts of this journey with my mom and sister.

As soon as school got out, the kids and I headed to Humboldt to spend time with family and care for my mom. This trip coincided with another hospitalization due to an electrolyte imbalance, but it also led to finding some important answers in her ongoing healing. We came home in late June and then I flew back up to Humboldt in early July to spend another week helping my mom, including taking her to her pre-op appointments before her surgery, which was just yesterday.

I’m so gratified to say, the surgery was a wonderful success and she’s on the road to recovery!

During these months of making many visits up north to nurse my mom, I found myself using coping strategies that weren’t very healthy. Drinking wine routinely, zoning out on social media, and after a couple very stressful days, eating several bowls of potato chips (with wine!) while watching TV. At the time, I joked about eating my emotions, which was certainly the case.

Now, I could be all perfectionistic about my habits and berate myself, but honestly that’s just a very human response to acute stress. But, now that I’m able to reflect on it, I see that there were many emotions that I didn’t let myself feel during this hard season. In many ways, I felt present in the moment, but I didn’t give myself space to feel the emotions of fear, anxiety, and overwhelm that were certainly happening.

Coping strategies involving food, alcohol, and distraction are numbing, in the short term. But, what I want to do with my emotions is be present to them, feel them, turn to God for support, and lean on my wonderful family and friends for connection. Repressing my feelings just cuts me off from authenticity and my deep need for God’s provision and care.

As we gear up for another trip to Humboldt in a week, I’m prayerful that I will be more present and in touch with my feelings, without the need to numb or distract myself. I’m not making any drastic rules about my eating and drinking habits, though the reforming perfectionist in me keeps trying to set them! Instead, I will ask God for his provision in being mindful about my behaviors so that I don’t turn them into coping strategies that don’t help in the long run.

Uncategorized

Care and Love.

kelseybonilla

Last summer my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. We all prayed without ceasing and felt a genuine peace that she would survive this disease after the proscribed long course of chemotherapy and surgery. She put her trust and faith in Christ as she navigated the first three months of weekly chemo. We were sad when she lost her hair, but after a bit of mourning (she really liked her hair!) she accepted her hair loss as part of the process and carried on.

Midway through the three month stretch of “hard chemo” as we started to refer to it, my mom fell very sick. She went into the hospital in mid-February and I made my first trip to Humboldt on the 17th. I’d end up making three trips up north to help my sister care for my mom over the next month. It felt like “survival mode” for most of that time as the necessities of life, for mom, me, and my family was all that really matterred. This season of life isn’t over as she continues to heal in preparation for either more chemo or surgery, but I’m pausing to reflect on the past month in profound ways.

During my first visit, mom was in the hospital and slept a lot of the time. I was focused on being there to attend to her needs and to give my sister Sarah a break from the daily caretaking she’d been doing for over a week. Sarah has three school-aged kids and she’d been juggling her roles as daughter and mom with grace. It meant a lot to me to be able to help. As I sat in the hospital, sometimes reading, but mostly just watching my mom sleep, I felt a deep sense of life coming full circle. We were in the same hospital where I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes nearly 30 years before. I kept reflecting on life and how God ministers to us in the hard times with the love of people around us.

There was a huge recliner in the corner of the room which reminded me of the one my mom slept on beside me for five nights when I was in this hospital. I joked with her that I wouldn’t be sleeping on that uncomfortable thing! That’s something a mom does for her child, but not the other way around. When the nurses commented to Sarah and me that we were lovely daughters to be there for our mom, we replied, “She’s taken wonderful care of us, so its the least we can do.”

I was also reminded of the week Teo spent in the NICU. When someone you love is sick and/or in the hospital, being there with them is so clearly the best and most important thing you could do. I cherish that simplicity of focus and the stillness it creates in me.

The first evening that I saw my mom in the hospital was hard. She wasn’t herself and had trouble articulating her thoughts. Sarah had told me what to expect, but it wasn’t the same as experiencing it directly. As we left, we both cried as we expressed the thoughts we didn’t share in front of mom: “Is she going to survive this?” It was the first time I’d given those dark thoughts any consciousness.

As I arrived that night at my dad’s house, he greeted me at the front door as I walked straight into his arms and sobbed. My stepmom was dealing with her own tragedy, so they both created a safe place for me to be authentic and express my sadness. That night, my dad poured me a glass of wine and the three of us talked until late in the night. Thus began my routine for the next four days. After spending 10-12 hours at the hospital, I’d arrive and Dad and Moni’s to a warmed up dinner, a glass a wine, and a long supportive talk about life. The rawness of emotion met the hopefulness of faith as we shared, connected, and trusted in God’s goodness.

Returning home from this first trip to Humboldt, my family picked me up from the airport on a Tuesday night. I’d already booked a return flight up north for Friday. My sweet husband was very supportive when I relayed to him mom’s condition and the sense I felt that I needed to come back after teaching for a few days and getting more sub plans pulled together. Having lost his father to cancer over 25 years ago, he empathized and fully supported me spending this time caring for my mom. Plus, he loves my mom deeply too, so he’d take care of our kids so I could tend to my vocation as a daughter.

Vocation was on my mind a lot this month. People talk about middle age being that time when you’re raising your own kids and potentially caring for your parents too. I love the idea of vocation: the work God has given you to do in this life, for his kingdom. As I transitioned between San Diego and Humboldt and back again three times within a month, I prayed about my changing focus on each of my vocations: daughter, sister, wife, mother, teacher… When I returned to class after my first trip, I was touched with my 9th graders asked in unison, “How’s your mom?” and then listened empathetically as I told them about my visit.

Throughout this challenging season, I have prayed continuously. Mostly for my mom, obviously. But also for myself! For presence, peace, compassion, and strength. I prayed to feel my genuine emotions and connect with my family members as we navigated this uncharted territory together. My sister Sarah and I became a tag-team unit, as we took turns caring for mom and consulting with one another when decisions needed to be made, especially the hard ones. You really learn how much your family loves one another when the trials of life arise.

Being authentic with people in my life during this challenging time was so important. My principal and I met between my second and third trip and she prayed for me with such tenderness and grace. Taking to Sienna and Mateo frankly about why I had to make these trips in such quick succession was helpful for me and them. Sienna told me, “I miss you, but I’m glad you’re there for Gaga.” In the midst of busy school workloads, they couldn’t take the time away to travel up north. But, they could sacrifice their mom’s attention for several days. We’re all doing our part.

Resting in the care and grace of loved ones is so meaningful. When I think of the love and support I’ve received from Dennis, Sienna, Mateo, my Dad, Moni, Sarah, my brother Rob, my students, my co-workers (who’ve subbed for me and helped coordinate subs), Aunt Sue, my cousin Jenny, my friends, my Pastor, etc. I feel such peace and gratefulness. Then there are the friends and church family that have surrounded my mom with love and care. We truly are Christ’s hands and feet to one another in this earthly life.

Please pray for my mom’s continued healing. I’m looking forward to the day we can look back on this season together and marvel at the good God has done in her life through this beautiful web of care and love.

Uncategorized

Giving from His Abundance

kelseybonilla

Goodness, a lot of life has happened since I last wrote on here! It’s been a challenging season but also one full of grace, rest, and growth. My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer toward the end of summer and started her chemotherapy this fall. I’m trying to be supportive from afar and am grateful for the opportunity to visit and care for her next weekend. Other challenges for family members arose this winter, including the death of my dear Bumpa the day after Christmas.

Also, I’m in my second year of teaching, which is still full of growth and learning. Teachers say that it takes 4-5 years to feel confident that you’ve “mastered” the curriculum for your classes, so I’m still on the front end of that curve. Coaching cross country in the fall was fun, but also required a lot of time that could have been spent on lesson planning. Sienna and Mateo are in 8th and 5th grade, respectively. We’ve learned that each year at Cambridge involves a significant step up in workload and expectations, so we’re navigating those challenges too.

Something that brings me peace amidst the difficulties of life is remembering that I’m not ultimately in charge. God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit loves me and bless me with the good things I need in this life, maybe not everything I want, but certainly everything I need. When circumstances arise that I don’t like, I try to remember to wait and let things unfold in God’s own perfect timing.

One of my fellow teachers gave the morning devotion last week and an analogy he used really touched my heart. He said that our relationship to God is like a child of 7 or 8 years old who asks their dad for money to buy him a birthday present. The father lovingly hands over $20 to his child. Then the child goes out and buys a tie or something and presents it to their father: “Happy Birthday, Dad! I hope you like the gift I got you!” The father opens the gift and loves it, scooping his child up into his arms with delight!

Now strictly from a financial standpoint, the father didn’t “get” anything that he couldn’t have acquired himself. It was his money being used to buy the tie, after all. But, he received the love and thoughtfulness of his child and delighted in the relationship he enjoys with them.

Isn’t this a wonderful analogy?! God doesn’t need our love and devotion. We cannot give God anything on our own, but we can love and worship him from the abundant blessing He has bestowed on us!

I’m a frail child of God who lives and moves and has my being in Christ. When I abide in Christ and rest of God’s faithfulness and love, he can work through me to fulfill my vocations as wife, mother, daughter, teacher and friend. Alone, I’m like a penniless little kid with no gift to bring my father.

Diabetes

Wait and See

kelseybonilla

As you may know, I’m a recovering perfectionist. Often “recovering” looks like slipping back into old patterns and then praying and accepting my way back to a place of surrendering and peace. I sometimes ponder which came first (as in “the chicken or the egg”), my desire for control or my diabetes. When you have diabetes, the hallmark of good care is “well-controlled blood sugars”. Truly, there couldn’t be a higher virtue than “control” in diabetes management.

Over the years I’ve used a continuous glucose monitor (CGM) several times. As I’ve discussed with my endocrinologist on countless occasions, the constant information on my blood sugar often felt overwhelming. I felt like I was riding a blood sugar roller coaster on days I used a CGM. Over the years, I realized that the issue wasn’t the information, but how I processed it. Psychologically, seeing a high blood sugar after a meal would prompt me to correct with insulin, even if I’d just given an injection an hour earlier. I couldn’t handle seeing the high blood sugar (and the feelings of failure it triggered) for an hour or so while my meal bolus brought my blood sugar down.

What happened when I stacked two injections close together? My blood sugar would plummet and I’d have to consume more carbohydrates to raise it. I’d then monitor the CGM data carefully for the rebounding high, which I’d then aggressively respond to with more insulin. See how the roller coaster feeling arose?!

In contrast, with finger stick blood sugar monitoring, my blood sugar might rise between meals, but I wouldn’t see that information until I tested a few hours later, so I wasn’t triggered to give extra correction doses. The downside? High blood sugars wouldn’t be detected for a few hours. Also, I couldn’t anticipate low blood sugars unless I became symptomatic.

As I’ve dealt with retinopathy the past few years, my desire to keep my blood sugar even more tightly controlled grew. I knew that the Dexcom provided the best standard of care for diabetes but was tentative to try again. So, I prayed for peace and a renewed understanding for how to interpret and respond to CGM information.

A couple months ago, I had one demo Dexcom sensor handy and decided to wear it for 10 days. Something finally clicked. I was able to receive the continuous glucose readings without overreacting to the information! Somehow my years of experience and awareness of how my body responded to food, insulin, exercise, etc. comingled with the continuous stream of blood sugars. I was able to watch the trends, allow for a reasonable “turnaround time” and wait (somewhat patiently) for highs and lows to return to range.

The timing of this breakthrough was fortuitous. Dealing with retinopathy impressed upon me how important tightly controlled blood sugars would be for my long-term health. With the CGM information, I could correct highs more quickly and keep my blood sugar “in range” more consistently. It’s not inexpensive, but again the benefits for my health and quality-of-life in the future makes the investment more than worth it.

As the weeks turned into months, I noticed a side effect of using the Dexcom. My cell phone was always within arm’s reach! The data is available through an app, which is obviously more convenient that using a separate receiver. However, once the phone was in my hand, I reflexively checked my email, instant messages, and social media much more than I’d like.

So, last week I got an Apple Watch so my blood sugars are constantly available right on my wrist! I’m being diligent not to start using other tracking features of the watch, because I know from experience that they are triggers for my performance orientation. When I start tracking things like the amount of water I drink or walking 10k steps a day, I feel like a robot ticking off all the “to do” items from my daily list.

But, it’s nice to glance down and see my blood sugar level and trend arrow without having to pick up my phone. I imagine it’ll be very helpful during classes! It’s funny how this constant stream of information used to feel overwhelming and burdensome, but now it feels freeing. The trick is constantly reminding myself, “wait and see what happens” before reacting to a potential high or low. Just because my blood sugar is 110 mg/dl and dropping right now doesn’t mean I’m headed for a low that I need to preempt. Likewise, a 160 mg/dl and climbing may not need intervention, depending on the timing of my last meal, when I’m planning to exercise, etc.

Over the years, “wait and see” has been a helpful reminder to stay in the moment instead of trying to control my future feelings. Just because my mind is telling me that I should act now to avoid feeling something unpleasant in the future, in reality I can “wait and see” how I feel in the moment, when it arrives. This life strategy only really works when you know that you can trust God for his grace and provision in all the moments of life, especially when things are out of control.