But what I saw, week after week, month after month, until I left his house at eighteen years of age, was my father sitting at a table with his checkbook, an accounting ledger, and a little red metal bucket full of bills, addressing them one after another. He didn't explain what he doing, let alone how he was doing it, but that image is burned into my mind and it has guided me through the years in ways that never let me down when I followed the guidance.
As I grew up and began to take on responsibilities of my own, something I was required to do rather quickly, thanks to the way I left my childhood home, I didn't do much floundering. I paid my bills -- just like he did -- first. I sat down and looked at what I was going to have, compared it to what I was going to need, and made a plan. I ignored nothing. I left out nothing. And as if by magic, I never was evicted. I never went without a meal (once I learned you can't sustain yourself on pride). And during the years my children were depending on me, I met their needs.
I know things can happen over which you have no control. I've lived for seven decades, after all. I've spent six months (or more) unemployed more than once. I've had to work two jobs at the same time much of my adulthood. I'm well familiar with the food stamp system, though not recently. I've faced life-threatening medical conditions without health insurance. And my oldest child and I celebrated Christmas one year when the only present he received was one the Salvation Army allowed me to pick out for him for free -- or he wouldn't have gotten that. But somehow, I made it through. And I'm convinced (not to go mysterious) that it's at least partly because -- as much as I possibly can -- I make it a point to give to others who need it more than me.
Today, though, thinking about all this, I'm caused to realize that the principles my father taught me about managing money work for managing my diabetes, as well.
(1) I gather the information I need, make an actual plan (not just in my head), and I follow it. A plan may not work 100% all the time, but if you're honest with yourself when you make it and you follow the plan once it's made, it often does. More importantly, it's easier to stay on track when you have a track to stay on. I know, for example, that in order to meet my goals for my blood glucose levels and maintain my weight, I need to eat three meals a day in the 50 to 60 grams of carbohydrate range. That's total.
My body has learned to be satisfied with this. I don't walk away hungry. I eat a small "dessert" after most lunches and dinners. And it's based on my weight at 5'6" and 138 pounds (which is not what I weighed when I was diagnosed diabetic in 2008). If I eat my dinner early, I eat a Greek yogurt before going to bed, but other than that, I stick to my plan. It keeps my life simple. My weight stays where I want it. My A1Cs stay in a good range. I don't have to worry much about complications developing. And I don't agonize long over decisions like, "Should I eat that?" I know better and I find something else to focus on.
(2) I don't kid myself about what's really important and what seems important to me at the time. Supposedly, we learn this as we leave childhood and become adults, but I've demonstrated to myself on more than one occasion that I can make a strong case for the most impractical (and even ill advised) choices one can imagine. But such choices always have consequences, usually consequences that I convinced myself were worth it, but never, never are. If I decide to binge-watch Netflix (or otherwise find myself too busy to do aerobics for too many days in a row), my knees will complain when I get back to it, as I must to properly manage my condition. Or if I decide to eat three slices of homemade whole wheat blueberry nut bread with honey pecan cream cheese at breakfast (because the loaf is small and because -- now that I've bought it -- I don't want it to go to waste), my glucose level will spike and my brain will suggest more insulin, which is a bad, bad practice to set in motion if one doesn't want to put on weight.
(3) When in doubt, I check my glucose level (just like I would check my bank account before making a purchase not already in the budget). Sometimes, I take one look at the reading and simply walk away from whatever it is I want. But the other day, I wanted some ice cream in the middle of a hot afternoon. Without giving it a lick of thought, I pulled out my trusty glucometer (which I carry everywhere) and took my reading. I was at 110 three hours before dinner. So I marched into Baskins-Robbins and happily ordered one guilt-free scoop of jamoca almond fudge ice cream in a cup (at 17 grams of carb). Delicious! And by dinner, I was back where I needed to be.
(4) I let the first three become habits so I don't even have to think about them. I don't haggle with myself over them or put them off until tomorrow. Despite my reputation as a bit of a wild card, I know that there is something to be said for ritualized routine. My life is never boring, I assure you. I have a full time job that I love and that I'm good at. I have two different blogs to write. I'm involved in a number of activities that require me to bring my A-game to make the world a better place for everybody. And I believe in fun to balance all the rest. But when I automatically do the right thing (most of the time), my stress level is lower (because I don't feel ashamed of myself and I'm not constantly anticipating or dealing with the arrival of undesired consequences).
I learned how to manage my household and professional finances watching my father. Applying those same principles, it now seems, is saving my sanity and my life by helping me manage my diabetes. So I'll pause today to say, "Thanks, Dad."
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