Denial and Diabetes UPDATED

I was diagnosed with type II diabetes about four years ago. Where does the time fly?
Having a parent with diabetes I was tested quite often for the condition and always came back negative. It just goes to show that you are healthy until you aren't. The body is an evolving organism and who knows what flips a switch in there to go from cells saying "send in the sugar" to "no admittance." Or, "regenerate normally" to "go crazy and make a tumor!"
So one day the cells put up the "you can't unlock me with that crazy insulin to let in sugar" sign and I went all diabetic.
Now, my Dad was a rotten diabetic. He ate anything he wanted and as much as he wanted. He would get a bag of donuts and just up his insulin a few more units. Sure he died young and pretty messed up with cardiovascular complications but those donuts sure were yummy. I, on the other hand, just deny having diabetes altogether. I know in my brain I have been diagnosed and I take my prescribed medication but I don't believe it. Not really. I know my feet tingle and burn from neuropathy but I don't really mind it that much, I guess. I test my blood sugars and see the numbers. I know what the numbers mean. It does register.
So why don't I believe I'm diabetic? Maybe because I don't fall over if I eat candy. I don't turn yellow when there is too much sugar in my blood. I'm spoiled and inconvenienced and complacent. It's an easy disease to ignore until you are losing a limb or going on dialysis.
I'm angry, too, because there is nobody to take care of me or, even more basic, nobody to care for me. High levels of carbohydrates and simple sugars have been my drugs of choice. The trendy way to say it is "comfort foods." I call them corn flakes and pasta and cookies and ice cream. Kit Kat bars and buttered toast and sweet rolls and white rice and Poppycock.
Yes, I've cut out regular soda completely. I don't drink fruit juice. Most everything else, though, is still on my grocery list or in my pantry.
My therapist says I haven't had a crisis yet. This keeps denial a viable option. If only I could get to the crisis without the damage. If only somebody would intervene and make my life all it should be. Wah, wah, wah.
So what do I do? I'm not ignorant, therefore, I have no level of bliss in my denial. It's an argument I lose with myself most every day.
UPDATE: I'm learning to drink my coffee without any sweetening agents. I'm drinking green tea. A book I'm reading (The Chemistry of Joy) describes a Western Medicine/Ayurvedic/Buddhist-mindfulness approach to depression. It all jibes with the DM life. Who'd a thunk it? Hope springs.