I’m gonna try to go see my kids this weekend.  Collin’s birthday is the 21st, but I have to be in Chattanooga that weekend for a convention, so I’ll go a weekend early and make sure they know I love them.  Trips to see and spend time with them become a cauldron of mixed emotions.  On the one hand, I love every second I get to spend in their presence.  My batteries recharge, and they make me feel like a whole person again.  Also, I know it’s good for them to have that time with me and feel my presence in their lives.  No matter how well he treats them, he’s not their father, and a boy needs to have a relationship with his father as he grows into manhood.

But on the other end of the spectrum, the trips to Jacksonville are physically and emotionally exhausting.  It’s a grueling drive down and back, and it usually takes a few days for my legs and back to stop aching.  Emotionally, the time with them with always tinged by the knowledge that too soon, the car will be silent for that long drive back, and I will have to endure another six weeks or four months without seeing them.  Those long stretches without them are impossible to describe.  Other parents who have been through it know what I mean.  I still have to live and work and find ways to survive, but there’s an emptiness inside me every moment, and I often find myself feeling lost for no particular reason.  The knowledge that the moment I am apart from them again I will have to go back to that feeling always makes the end of the visit pretty harsh.

Maybe one day, I will be able to have more time with them more frequently, and maybe the times apart won’t be so difficult.  I do know that now whenever I hear a woman complaining about her ex and how little time he spends with his kids, there’s a part of me that empathizes with him more than before.  Dealing with the separation is terrible, and reliving it each time we say good bye is more difficult than I can explain.  I can understand why some men wouldn’t be able to endure it.  I just know for me, the love and need for the boys slightly outweighs the pain, so I do endure it for them.

But it’s not easy.

I’ve battled weight my entire life.  Genetically, I’m predisposed to Type II or Adult Onset Diabetes.  My body produces too much insulin, known as hyperinsulinism, and also has grown resistant to insulin as it attempts to convert glucose into energy, known as insulin resistance.  The results of these two conditions are a constant craving for something sweet or starchy to eat and the conversion of glucose into fat for storage.  It’s a difficult combination, and sometimes, the sugar cravings get so intense that I give in and binge for two or three days.  Then, I feel terrible for a week or two.  I don’t mean I feel guilty, although there is some of that.  No, I mean I physically feel as if I’m dying after a bad binge.

When I eat properly — and that’s properly according to what works for my metabolism — I feel great.  My energy levels are tremendous, I don’t get afternoon “brain-fog,” and the cravings dissipate.  I can go for weeks without having any sugars or starches.  During these periods, I lose weight and feel somewhat good about myself.  Then, inevitably, something happens to trigger a strong craving.  Maybe I have an especially bad day at work, or maybe I’m just missing my sons a little more than usual.  I turn to food for comfort, and the thought is always the same, “I’ve been doing really well.  Eating sugar tonight won’t hurt.”  Two days later, I’ve undermined all of the progress I’ve made the previous six or eight weeks.

My friends and colleagues don’t help, either.  I’m certain they mean well, but every single day, someone offers me something I shouldn’t eat.  I’ll politely decline, and they’ll say something like, “Oh, that’s right.  You’re diabetic.”  Then, the next day, they offer me something else almost identical.  They mean well, but when I’m already craving something, it’s difficult to then have it waved in front of me.

Luckily for me, I carry my weight fairly well, and few people believe that I need to lose as much weight as I do.  I won’t publish the number here, but trust me, it’s a daunting figure.  I’m working a little each day towards my goal, but anyone who has needed to lose weight knows how hard it is.  At this point in my life, I don’t care so much about how I look.  I’m far beyond ever being mistaken for a model, but I want to get healthy while I still am in pretty good health, if that makes any sense.  My heart is still in fairly good shape, but if I don’t get down to my goal weight soon, I know that serious issues will begin to surface.

On that note, it’s time for my afternoon walk.

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First of all, congratulations to the New Orleans Saints for winning the Super Bowl.  It’s great to see a team and a city have that kind of relationship, and it reminds me a little of the connection between the Steelers teams of the 70’s and the city that was suffering through the decline of the steel industry.  Back then, the team gave pride to the community at a time when it desperately needed something to believe in.  Hopefully, the people of New Orleans will take this victory and use it as inspiration for the better days to come.

We all need those better days, regardless of where you live.  These last few years have been a struggle for most of us.  Jobs are scarce; jobs that pay a real livable wage are even scarcer.  During the Super Bowl, a local commercial for a heart surgery center came on, and I thought to myself how many of us could really afford, even with insurance, to have the kind of care they offer.  I know I can’t at my current salary as an Instructor of English.  If this country is ever going to return to any semblance of prosperity, we need jobs and salaries that allow us to participate fully in the system.

Like the city of New Orleans, maybe as we rebuild, we can build things a little better this time so that the next storm doesn’t do quite so much damage.

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