Malware

The term Malware stands for Malicious Software, or any software used to disrupt computer operations, gather sensitive information, gain access to private computer systems, or display unwanted advertising*. Simply put, it’s a computer virus. And, my blog site caught it.

Writing has always been one of my favorite hobbies. I’ve been journaling since fifth grade. I studied journalism in college. I’ve blogged since my mid-twenties. Writing is how I’ve always logged my days, processed my emotions and communicated to others my interpretations of the world. So, when that scary red malware warning flashed its full-screened face at me this year, I made curing that virus a priority.

The malware infestation turned out to be symbolic, as my body caught its own kind of malware this year. In May, I was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes – an autoimmune disease that had run my body so far to the ground that picking my head off a pillow seemed an unbearable task. By the time I saw a doctor, I had apparently been so close to a diabetic coma that I was considered lucky to have made it to a clinic rather than unconscious in a hospital.

I’ll go into the nitty gritty of my new friend, diabetes, in another post. My goal now is to share how this personal malware infestation has led to my next life steps – steps my fellow Bonaventure alumni may call my next “Good Journey.”

When you’re living alone in New York City, a place where going unseen for days is often considered normal, a doctor looking you straight in the face and saying you’re lucky to have woken up today… well, yea. It woke me up, alright.

I spent most of this summer adjusting to my new diagnosis and taking care of my diabetes in the best way I know how. The truth is I’ve been shuffling through my daily routine seemingly awake, but feeling barely alive. In fact, I don’t remember this summer. I have little recollection of my existence with exception to a few key events. My blood sugar levels were so unstable that I had virtually no memory, no energy, and no focus. I would lose my train of thought so frequently that my clients would routinely stop MY counseling sessions and ask if I was okay. I’m a mental health and substance abuse therapist, by the way. You know… like, I was the one conducting sessions.

It all hit me over Labor Day. What the hell was I doing? My vulnerable body was screaming for help, and I finally gained enough coherency to recognize the need for change. I live in one of the most expensive cities in the world with a mountain of private school loans. I work in the mental health field with one of the “toughest” populations while carrying years of accumulating emotional baggage that I’ve just “dealt with” because I convinced myself “I can” and that I would “be fine.”

Daily stress became so all-encompassing that carrying it has almost felt normal. Normal, that is, until my body put its foot down, threw up a middle finger and said “Not today. Not ever again.”

What I’ve realized is just because I can handle something doesn’t mean I should. I’ve always valued my health. But, I’ve also always been someone to push through. And, if this hasn’t been proof that I need to practice what I preach then, holy hell, I don’t know what is. So, here’s what you’ve taught me so far, new friend diabetes:

• I like to give, and I must give myself first.
• I like to teach, and I must teach myself first.
• I am strong, and I’m allowed to also struggle.
• I have thick skin, and it doesn’t mean I don’t bruise.

One week after Labor Day, I had put in my resignation at work, sublet my apartment, and taken a deep dive into navigating U.S. health insurance coverage. I decided that it’s time for a break.

To fix my malware-infected website I had to identify the infected areas, scrape them away, and reformat the site that once was. The content was still there; it just needed to be found, polished, and rebooted.

And, that’s what I’m on a venture to do myself: Identify my infected areas. Scrape them away. Polish up. And reboot.

I have only a template of a plan. I’m keeping it that way on purpose. A journey anywhere starts with a step. And, it ends in a place unknown. I always find personal growth in the unknown. So, the unknown is where I’ll head.