**Trigger Warning (TW): Discussion About Alcohol & Disordered Eating** After living with type 1 diabetes (T1D) for the past 23 years, I’ve come to realize there is so much more to this condition than blood sugar checks, insulin doses, and carbohydrate counting. Mental health is a huge component, and one I do not feel is discussed enough in the diabetes community. Once I started working as a Registered Dietitian at a Drug & Alcohol Rehab, I discovered that being diagnosed with a chronic illness like T1D is actually considered a trauma. This in turn can lead to a host of mental health struggles, including anxiety, depression, eating disorders, and addiction. Growing up, I was always an anxious child and when I was diagnosed with T1D at 11 , it definitely exacerbated it.  (Circa 1999: Diagnosed with T1D) After my diagnosis, every move I made now required extra thought and care. One misstep could lead to a dangerous hypoglycemic episode, and any high made me fear potential long...

As I prepare to take another trip around the sun, entering my 34th year on this wacky planet, I’ve been taking a lot of time to reflect. The past year has had a lot of ups and downs, but my ability to be mindful of my reactions and coping mechanisms to the low moments has been huge. I’ve been alcohol free for a little less than a year, which is weird for me to say honestly. Other than being pregnant, I’ve never gone that long without alcohol. I’d have spurts here or there, but never anything substantial. To some it may sound insignificant, but if you know what it's like to find comfort in that glass of wine after a long day, or the warmth of a beer boosting your confidence in social situations, then you know it’s a BIG DEAL for me. On top of it, I’ve been addressing my eating disorder in full earnest, in part by increasing my therapy to weekly sessions. Before this, whenever life got too hard, I would either drink or eat. With those two options off the table (mostly because recover...

Lately I've been feeling like I’m lost in the woods, or in some sort of weird limbo. This is the best I have felt in a long time, but it’s not what I had been anticipating. There are these fleeting moments when I start to feel like a true human being. Not the shell whose life is dictated by so many external factors: the Zombie Jess . Sure, I am better able to talk through and then go into situations that generally give me severe anxiety, but something is missing. I’m not entirely sure what. I’m making small, but sustainable changes in my life, while also celebrating bigger milestones, like being alcohol free for almost 8 months . That should be a bigger deal, but I’ve been hesitant to celebrate it. Not that I plan to drink again anytime soon, if ever. But I guess I thought I’d be “better” by now.  "Cured". I’d finally heal what had been ailing me. Anxiety. Depression. Self-loathing.  Sadly no, they were there the whole time, alcohol just suppressed them, allowing the woun...

When I’m struggling with my anxiety or depression, tasks like cleaning are a BIG deal. The anxiety kicks in, and the task becomes overwhelming. I shut down and do the bare minimum, because it is all my brain can process in that moment. When depression rears its ugly head, it depletes me of my energy. I give what little I have left to the essentials: managing my diabetes, taking care of Lucy, and work, leaving barely any mental resources to handle the rest of life. I describe this dark shell of a human Zombie Jess. She’s the sick science experiment when you combine diabetes, disordered eating, and mental health struggles. Anxiety attack. Zombie Jess. Low blood sugar. Zombie Jess. Crushing self loathing. Zombie Jess. Postpartum depression. ZOMBIE JESS ON STEROIDS.  Pregnancy and postpartum life were not kind to me. Like A Series of Unfortunate Events, every step I took to become a mom dragged me deeper and deeper into the depths of depression. Down the rabbit hole. I stopped taking...

Trigger Warning (TW):  Discussion About Alcohol & Disordered Eating Alcohol was a big part of my identity for a good 16+ years of my life. Through most of junior high and high school I was “Straight Edge”, with a t-shirt stating it boldly to the WORLD in Coca-Cola Style Print. I thought it was ironic because I have diabetes and didn’t drink Regular Coke (GASP), so teenie bopper Jess thought it was SO funny. Before: Straight Edge Jess But towards the end of junior year, into senior year I started to think “I should at least TRY before I decide” And so, my alter ego “Shotgun Jess” was born. In the beginning, Shotgun Jess was the cool, new grown up Jess. She was ready to party and dance the night away. It melted away my insecurities, of which there were many, allowing me to finally throw caution to the wind. But without at least some caution, there were most definitely consequences, most of which was throwing up and/or making a fool of myself. While attending undergrad at Penn Sta...

I’ve gone hiking 3 times in the past 12 days. For some it doesn’t sound like much, but for me it’s huge! The last few years, exercise has been inconsistent for me. In the past, I’d feel this drive inside of me at times, but it was often fueled by seth-loathing and vehement hate for my body. I would run full speed ahead into whatever I felt would “fix” me, but it often left me feeling drained afterwards. Motivation bred in hate doesn’t lead to very satisfying outcomes. So over time, I would give up. Crawl back into my hole, disgusted with my body’s inability to “keep up” with whatever I was trying to do to it. In beginning to heal my relationship with myself, I’ve been trying to find ways to move my body that truly bring me joy. Yoga has been a huge help, even doing it for 10 minutes a day, but I was ready for more. Then, two weekends ago my friend Katie invited me to a hiking group event. Now, this wasn’t any old hiking group. It was a SINGLES hiking group. And if you don’t know, I’m m...

Happy Father's Day One and All! Especially to those who have lost their father's, don't have a father figure, have lost a child, or one of the very human experiences many of us face. Certain holidays are a joy for some, while a sad reminder for others. Or a little of both. For me, it's always both. I want to focus on the happy memories. So for this Sunday, I am thankful for the many wonderful men in my life.  My Dad: The first man I ever celebrated Father's Day with. He's is a gentle, loving soul who would do anything to help those he loves, be it road tripping to visit grandpa. He is meticulous and thoughtful, with a quick wit that makes me smile. My happiest memories are our various road trips where I can trap you in the car and talk for hours. That uninterrupted alone time is so precious to me. Love you Dad! My Grampa Paulson:  My Grampa Paulson was an amazing man. A Prisoner of War in WWII. A family man of 6 awesome (& rambunctious) kids who I proudly c...