It’s a mixed bag of things that control every aspect of your life. From the way that you act to the way that you feel, it creeps into your life like a vine and intertwines itself around every corner of your being, both physical and emotional.
The constant thinking of every move I make brings me down. The worry over food, the stress over glucose numbers, the fear of a impromptu walk around the block. The physical pain of poking fingers and inserting sites, though I shrug it off as no big deal, brings me down. The mental judgement that I put myself through with every high that persists beyond one correction dose and the fear of what it’s doing to my tiny vessels overwhelms me. The little things here and there that come along just when I think I’m doing a great job at this whole diabetes management thing remind me that no matter what I do, complications are going to arise, and it’s going to suck.
Does all of this mean I should just give up? Does it matter if I try or not since I’m going to face crap anyway? No. I used to think this way and tried to live a life with diabetes on the side. It just doesn’t work out. It’s okay to experience burnout every now and then, but I have to pick myself up and put my big girl panties on and deal. Why? Because it’s not just me that this disease affects.
It affects my family. My husband. My son. Knowing that they depend on me to try as hard as I can to be healthy is what drives me out of it and brings me back up. Diabetes may bring me down, but the support of family and friends is what brings me back up… back to this thing called “life with diabetes”, not “the diabetic life”.