Dear Maurice

Dear Maurice,                                                                                              2-3-2016

Good news, frustrating news. My blood sugar floated up. I was at 152 this morning. Weighed myself tonight I weighed 277lbs. That’s twenty four pounds less of me than there was before. How elated does that make me? Crazy good. The metformin is helping counteract the bipolar meds I’m sure but I cut back caloric intake. Have loaded up on the veggies and careful about the fruit. I have apple slices with peanut butter. And a nightly snack plain greek yogurt with Splenda added. With my meds for my calories I am supposed to take I eat string cheese. I stay away pasta and white flour of any kind because it triggers high blood sugar. Which makes things pie and cookies and cakes hard to eat without seeing an instantaneous result that I don’t care for in the morning when I poke myself.

I wish I could say I’m always good. That I never cheat and to be honest I want to in good shape again. I’m going to New York for a book signing in Manhattan at Bluestocking Books, Café and Activist Center. There’s more to it than that but my lips are sealed until it’s time to announce all of that.

Since 2011 I have had 20 books published. Won several awards. Made 4 documentaries. Written countless screenplays and teleplays. Won awards for those too.

All the while battling bipolar disorder, gaining weight, struggling to lose it then only to gain it back again. For me it’s a combination of whole grains, complex carbs, protein and the occasional treat. All the while walking a little further than I did the day before. I’m up to thirty laps a day.

I realize it’s going to be a long way back. I didn’t get here overnight and I won’t get my health back lickety split.

But since I use food to self-soothe challenges lay ahead. The kind where I doubt myself and my choices. The kind where I question everything about my life. The kind I’m triggered into a depression and there’s little I can do but take my medicine and ride it out. Hypomania is more my speed, I’m able to focus and be creative. With the help of my medications I know the depression won’t last but it often causes my creative side to be stifled by well meaning people who don’t truly know what makes me tick.

Paranoia is a trap.

I know I will feel my emotions more intensely than I already do by taking away my food crutch.

For so long food was my best friend. Food never rejected me. Food was always there when my heart was breaking into a million pieces. Food was there to celebrate with me in my greatest triumphs and there to console me in my darkest hours.

My mood and my addiction to food are tangled up and entwined with one another. I learned early on to keep secrets when my biological father abused me. I was always afraid of him. In some ways I still am and always will be.

I struggle with speaking up to authority figures in my life. Especially the men. I tend to fear and mistrust them even when there’s real no foundation for it.

I do this blog not for the money it might make me in the future. If I did it would be impossible to do so. I share my journey so that others might know they are not alone in this fight!

Diabetes does not have to be long, slow and agonizing death from complications. You don’t have to lose your fingers and toes and limbs. You don’t have to go blind. You don’t have to let your disease get out of control. You don’t have to be isolated and alone in your fight to get better.

Everyone has their own way of crossing the finish line. I am in this fight to win it and I want to inspire as many people as I can along the way. I want people to find their truth. I want people to get honest with themselves and listen to their doctors and dieticians.

Maybe my brand of truth isn’t for everyone and that’s OKAY. Everyone is on their own path. Everyone often finds their own way. I just everyone to know they are not alone. And that as long as I come here this can be their soft place to fall as well.

Sincerely,

Amy McCorkle

Dear Maurice

Dear Maurice,                                                                                      February 2, 2016

Today was a good day.

My clothes are getting looser. In fact I put on my favorite blouse and it went on so easily I know if I keep at this I won’t be able to wear it for much longer.

My blood sugar was closer to normal than it has been this whole time. At least since my diagnosis. It was 128. Superb.

And I got some exciting news. I started working on a new documentary. Letters to Daniel: No More Stigma. I have my first interview with Summer Dickerson to talk to her about her battle with bipolar disorder and PTSD and how she copes with people’s reaction to her. I do that next Monday.

I am sitting on some really exciting news that I’m not at liberty to share just yet. But I can share this, my documentary #YesAllWomen got selected to screen at Imaginarium and the Fantasmagorical Film Festival in conjunction with Fandom Fest. My hope is to run, well, walk the 5k they’re doing the same week leading up to the convention.

I miss the road races. It’s the one place where sporting wise I really feel like I’m competing just with myself. Artistically when I write I don’t really do it for the money. Money is nice, don’t get me wrong. But if I did it for the money I’d be out of luck.

I’m about to start a new adventure in my career with a new team. Can’t say who or what exactly which makes me ready to burst at the seams. I am absolutely psyched for this. Sad at the choice I had to make. But I thought long and hard on this and came to the conclusion that business wise it was the best decision I could make. Personally I adored the other person. I still do as a matter of fact. That will probably never change.

But until the ink is dry on some papers I can’t announce anything yet. Which makes eating to it so hard. I could numb the anxiety that comes with the joy of anticipation. But I can’t. Just believe me when I tell you it’s very exciting and when it’s official you will be the first to know.

As far as exercise goes I managed my second day of 30 laps.  Which I’m completely psyched about.

I ate healthily today too. So I’m feeling good about that to.

My mood is somewhat more stable with these changes. I love the fact I’m back in therapy after a too long of a spell. Certainly glad to be doing what I’m doing. I’m writing my first action script called Crimson & Gold. It’s a feature that I hope to get in front of the right people. I know I have talent when it comes to writing. It’s my creative sweet spot.

I have a feeling doing this next adventure will pay for me to continue to do my true passion which is writing and the documentaries. Right now I’m not into the books but the screenplays and non-fiction and the One Woman Show I am writing.

Maurice, I know you’re not reading this and that perhaps weight and body image isn’t your cross to bear. But you have no idea how much your work and activism has inspired me in my own life. I think when I make the announcement I’m just dying to spill you’ll see just how much.

I have a strong support network. Friends and family who love me and know what I have to do to stay stable. Learning to write without snacking with chips and sugary sweets and regular soda is a lesson of balance. And staying balanced is the key. Choosing to be happy is key. But for us knowing where that line of happy is drawn between acceptable and off the chain mania can be hard to be seen sometimes. Eating right and exercising makes me happy in a way most people don’t understand. I get real pleasure when walking in Iroquois Park. A lot people hate the act of exercise and think accepting medical help for a chronic disease means you are weak willed and should never ask for help. To pull yourself up by your own bootstraps.

But what happens when something in you prevents you from being able to do that? I’ve been diagnosed with two chronic diseases. One which, unchecked has the potential to be fatal. The other even with perfect behavior I will die from the complications it brings. I am not, nor have I been weak willed. But I did need help and until I faced the fact I did nothing was going to change. In my darkest hour, at my most bottomed out moment I reached out and asked for help and now I am ready to take off.

The world has truly become my oyster.

Sincerely,

Amy McCorkle

Dear Maurice,

Dear Maurice,                                                                                                1-31-2016

 It’s all good news. I stepped on the scale last night. I lost six more pounds! That’s right, I said it said it six pounds! Bringing the grand total to twenty lbs. My blood sugar this morning is 137. It’s a good day so far!

This whole health kick thing is like a fucking roller coaster. One minute you’re on top of the world. The next thing you know you’re at the bottom craving food at the most inopportune times.

Last night it was grilled hot dogs with dill relish, onions and mustard. Hell, it sounds delish now. Not donuts. Not ice cream. Not pizza. But hot dogs.

Why is this odd? Because after my time in San Antonio when it was a major part of my diet I couldn’t have cared less whether or not I ever saw a hot dog again. But right now all I can think about at 11AM is a fully dressed poppy seed bunned hot dog.

Why? I haven’t got foggiest clue. So I crave until hopefully mom and dad get hot dogs for supper. It certainly would hit the spot. For now I have to settle on peanut butter and pre-sliced apples.

Which is okay. Why? It makes the perfect snack, a complex carb and protein with and pure carbohydrate. With good fats to fill you up.

There are lots of diabetic friendly diets. And I’m no doctor. I just know what works for me. I need to get my 30 laps in today. 20 lbs. Heads still spinning on that one.

Much like my bipolar disorder there are highs and lows. Peaks of frustration, valleys of hopelessness, unmitigated joy when there is triumph. Also like facing bipolar disorder there is the challenge to self soothe without succumbing to one the thing I always had. Food.

Having been diagnoses with diabetes has forced me to face my mortality and deal with people’s intrusion into my life about my diet, medication and because Type 2 Diabetes is common and the people who are diagnosed are usually overweight, people are often rude or overeager at best to know about what I’m eating. How I’m eating, and other things they have no right to know.

But I’ve found being upfront and direct is usually the best policy.

I am anxious and excited about these having dropped so much weight. There are other developments in my life that I’m not at liberty to discuss which makes this journey a little harder. But suffice it to say it is a good thing in most respects. There some drawbacks on a personal level which makes me very sad. Making the craving for a hot dog that much stronger.

If I could I’d an entire bowl of s’mores ice cream. Hell, I could eat an entire quart of the stuff. It’s like crack for the heartsick and celebratory soul.

No alcohol either. I have a strong taste for champagne and Angry Orchard crisp apple flavor. Until I get my sugars under control both are cut from the diet entirely. Which is sad. Because I love both.

Another thing people tend to do is assume I’m always happy because I smile a lot. Professionally speaking it is good to smile a lot. No one really wants to be sad or talk about how hard it is to be diagnosed with a chronic disease.

The truth is this: I detest secrets. I believe secrets rot the soul. I am for the most part a transparent person. What you see is what you get. That will never change. Asking me to keep something under my hat for a while is one thing. If I feel like I’m being manipulated trust me when I say I can usually bear for a finite amount of time. But that time is short. And when I reach my breaking point I will never speak to you again.

Other people do not speak for me. I’m approachable. I’m impressionable. And I’m impulsive. I usually go with my gut. I’m a pretty good judge of character. But I have my 3BP peeps to sound off too. And while we might not be in a consensus all the time I value their opinion above others.

Today is a good day. I’m twenty pounds light and blood sugar is at 137. I’m hoping for a lower blood sugar number tomorrow. And I’m off to walk my thirty laps.

Sincerely

Amy McCorkle

Dear Maurice

Dear Maurice,                                                                                         1-29-2016

It’s interesting where your life can take you. Getting diagnosed with diabetes has made me feel my mortality a little more acutely. My career which is already a priority has become even more so. So I’ve done some rearranging lately. Things will allow me to continue to write creatively, make films, travel and do my passion projects all the while helping people like myself.  I can’t wait to spill it. As it is a long held dream of mine to do this and I’m excited to be working with these people.

Friendship and family. I have the best friends in Missy and Pam. Truly I have their backs and they have mine. I know whatever turbulence comes my way they are there for me in good times and bad. Each have their own struggles and triumphs and they both have the courage to go after their dreams.

That speaks to what I love about them each. Even when the chips are down they have a way of comforting me when my mood threatens to disrupt everything I do.

So I’ve been looking at my life and deciding what to do with it. How can I keep from disintegrating as I very nearly did when the feature film fell through so close to production start date?

I’m such a control freak comes to those areas of my life. Creatively speaking there are those I trust more than others. Missy is the number one gatekeeper. To get to me you have to go through her. I don’t simply do what she says, but I value her opinion and more than that I trust her. Trust is hard to come by in the creative world as people will support you a lot if they see you fighting the good fight to overcome. But might attack you when you rise passed them. Missy is there safeguard me. As I can make impulsive decisions, not really thinking about the consequences. And if she thinks you’re going to use me to you own ends she won’t stay silent on the matter.

Pam, god love her. She takes her coffee black. When I told her I had diabetes I didn’t get the bullshit natural cures talk. She shoots straight from the hip. People don’t think she cries but she’s actually a very sensitive soul. All of us at 3 Bitches Press are. Even the honorary members like Andrew and Robin.

So when I make a decision I tend to stick to my guns about it.

Right now I’m at crossroads about my feature film. Should I jettison or put it on hold and do a documentary with real seed money behind it? And use that to bring in more money to do the feature film?

Right now I’m consumed with getting better. My routine is strict. Tomorrow is my last twenty lap day. I up to thirty laps next week. I still take the metformin. I still take my bipolar medication. I take my thyroid medication. Right now I take my anti-inflammatories for my jaw.

When I feel sick I know it’s my sugars. I’m not happy about that. But I’m doing something about it. I’m being proactive. I’ve been writing today. Being productive. Non-fiction I’ve found I have a certain flair for. It’s something I excited about. Marketing is something else I have a knack for. I’ve always been able to sell stories in order to get my foot in the door.

As of now I am at 287 lbs. That’s fourteen pounds I’ve lost. My blood sugar has gotten as low as 132.  This morning it was 147. I’m not happy about that. Want to have a better glucose average than two hundred and an A1C below at least a 7. Maybe I won’t feel my mortality so much then.

Sincerely,

Amy McCorkle

Dear Maurice

Dear Maurice,                                                                                     1-28-2016

I have a dysfunctional relationship with food. Where some people are able to eat three meals a day and snack normally, I can’t. I find that my relationship with it is filled with guilt and self-recrimination when I eat poorly. I self-soothe with food. And now that I’m battling diabetes I find all of these emotions clamoring to the surface and are playing a game of emotional tug of war.

I strained my upper jaw muscle last night. Yeah. That’s right. Slept on my hand wrong last evening and woke up with a a nagging pain which quickly became the worst kind of pain ever. It was so bad I broke down and had my mother call a man I totally despise and to ask him what he thought might be wrong and to god in heaven please let him have some treatment options.

The sight unseen diagnosis was lockjaw. Truly most hideous pain. Couldn’t bring my teeth together. Couldn’t open my mouth wide. It was horrible.

Today was better and I went in to see him. Not lockjaw but strained upper jaw muscle on the right side of my face. So why is this food related. Because everything I ate today had soft. Which meant mashed potatoes, plain greek yogurt, peanut butter, chicken enchilada soup and sugar free pudding and Italian Wedding Soup from Progresso. I didn’t go over in carbs but to say the least I am very hungry at the moment.

So why do I have such a complicated relationship with food. I have been, since some of my earliest memories, obsessed with food.

When I was five years old I would get up in the morning on the weekends when my parents were still in bed and go into the living room hoping to find those last one or two dead soldiers from White Castle or Taco Bell and eat for breakfast.

My earliest memory with food was when I was two years old and I got up out of bed when everyone was still asleep seeking out the birthday cake with Bugs Bunny on it. When I found I clumsily dug my tiny hand into the buttercream icing and the chocolate cake and pulled off a hunk of it, cramming it into my mouth. My mouth is watering just at the thought of it.

Food=love. So when I would feel down or lonely or scared I would eat copious amounts of food.

My step-mother would fix this elaborate dinners. Chicken Fried or barbecued. Sometimes it was pork chops. She used Crisco to cook it in. Green beans. Corn(usually creamed). And mashed potatoes and rolls.

I’m a food addict. Alcoholics remember their first drink. Well definitely I’m a food addict because a lot of my memoires are awash in food details. And the road to the onset of my Type 2 Diabetes is paved in those memories.

I’m feeling guilty right now because I fear tomorrow my blood sugar will higher than it was this morning. Which it hit its lowest point yet since I started my road to recovery. I’m second guessing everything now.

Should I have eaten the mashed potatoes? What will they do to my sugars? What kind of weight will I gain? Or will everything be okay because I’m working hard to get better and I won’t wake up feeling sick to my stomach and weak all over because my sugars are 150 or higher.

It’s not something I like to admit how weak I am in the face of temptation. That I can run a marathon of 26.2 miles. That I can bring my bipolar disorder to a highly functional level.

But put a plate of Chinese food in front of me and wilt under the strain of resisting temptation.

Every warrior has their Achilles heel. Mine is food addiction. When I ate poorly in the past I was simply fat, overweight, unattractive to the opposite sex. Now my health is on the line. I either face this demon head on and learn to manage it one day at a time or it will literally be the death of me. That is something I most definitely do not want.

Sincerely,

Amy McCorkle

Dear Maurice Benard

Dear Maurice Benard,                                                                                         1-27-2016

I’ve written you many letters over the years. Some I sent, some I didn’t. You activism changed my life—saved it really where it came to getting me into treatment for my bipolar disorder. I knew, from the benefit yours and Paula’s story that if I quit taking the medicine my life would suffer and that for me to get better I needed to take my medication and to keep my therapy appointments. I was lost and full of despair at that time in my life. The only pleasure I got was watching General Hospital. Thinking to myself if he can get better so can I.

When I was finally able to write again it was absolute crap. But I was so relieved that I could still create it didn’t matter. So everyday I would get up and write. When I created the Letters to Daniel blog it was because it seemed Daniel’s work inspired in my fiction to create hero after hero. He seemed like the kind of guy who could keep a secret. I realized pretty quickly with that blog people were actually reading it and benefitting from it. Even though I knew damn well he wasn’t. And possibly never would. However eventually he read the book and was honored to be thought of in such a fashion and was extremely moved by my story. It’s truly what every girl who dreams of being a published author hopes for. Her hero to read her book and ‘get’ what she is trying to say.

So why you now, and not you then?

Because then I was well on my way to recovery. I shared my battles and my successes. And here I’ll do the same. Only now my physical health is in jeopardy. This is the first place where can say it. Up until people on FB and twitter have seen me losing weight and cheering me on. I’ve only alluded to in a very subtle way that I have a disease all too common in my family. Type 2 Diabetes.

You’re the first person I’m admitting this to and I haven’t even told some of my closer friends. There’s a stigma to being fat and diabetic. They assume you’ve brought this disease upon yourself. In a way I have. But help not judgment. And Diabetes is less stigmatizing than Bipolar Disorder. And because it’s so commonplace people just assume you take Metformin (which on twice a day) or are on insulin.

I have a routine now. I wake up. I take my blood sugar. Recorder the time I took it and write down what it was. I fix my breakfast of lower sugar oatmeal and a single piece of lightly buttered whole wheat toast. I then take my metformin with my bipolar meds (trileptal, geodon, and an anxiety medication, Ativan). I then walk 20 laps throughout the house.

My blood sugar two weeks ago started at 264. I took it this morning and it was 139. I have lost fourteen pounds. Down from 301lbs to 287lbs. My clothes are feeling looser. I know this is like recovery from any major chronic illness. The disease never goes away. It’s always lurking. Waiting for you to let your guard down.

I eat 5-6 times a day now.

I was eating 1-2 times and gorging when I did eat.

For me there were symptoms that perhaps are unpleasant to talk about so I’ll spare you the one that finally got me into a doctor’s office.

The motivator for me is I don’t want to lose my fingers, my toes, my arms, my legs. I don’t want to go on dialysis. I don’t want to have a heart attack. This disease scares the crap out of me.

My doctor wants me to get down to an A1C number below 7. I want it below a 6.

My Letters to Daniel book changed my life. Pushed me across the finish line of a bruising and brutal recovering process from bipolar disorder. I selfishly hope that by doing this I can help myself and I can maybe help others on the same path.

Sincerely,

Amy McCorkle