I am super, outrageously drained. Also, it is not for
absence of rest. It's the type of very much rested tired that stems from
attempting to get my glucose between these two lines and to remain there, while
recognizing that it actually never will.
The type of tired that originates from not just attempting
to hold my wellbeing together, and not just attempting to hold whatever is left
of my coexistence, however attempting to move these things forward by appearing
to every one of the physical checkups, and appearing to work each day, and
refilling the solution on time, and going shopping for food before I wind up
having stale saltines for lunch and conveying a 3-day old jug of Coke in my
tote for crisis glucose since I've come up short on juice boxes.
It's the type of tired that originates from the truth that
Donald Trump is truly, really, truly going to be the following President of the
United States. It is the type of tired that originates from checking my ledger.
It is the type of tired that originates from recollecting that regardless I
have a rec center participation I've utilized 3 times as a part of 4 months. It
is the type of tired that originates from unlearning the way of life I've
experienced childhood into make space for one that is really maintainable,
which I'm told will one day feel less impossible than it as of now feels.
It's the type of tired that originates from carrying on in
spite of feeling this tiredness for quite a long time and weeks and months on
end… since that is our main thing, isn't that so? We keep appearing. We
continue checking our glucose. We continue battling the great battle. This is
the thing that I've been attempting to do, in any case.
In any case, today, my alert went off at 7:30 and I laid in
bed until 8:10, made espresso that I didn't have sufficient energy to drink,
went to an arrangement at 9, drove home, and expeditiously crept once again
into my bed, which is precisely where I am at this moment, composing this.
Drinking that warmed up espresso. Since I am drained. Today, my whole body
feels weighted, shrouded. This weight is behind my eyes and on my shoulders and
in my mid-section and down my legs. It is in each full breath and the
inconspicuous hurt in my mind. It is all over. Also, it is instructing me to
sit the fuck down.
I am sure that some of you–many of you… a large portion of
you?–recognize what I am feeling. This burnout.
Our errand is incredible, in dealing with our delicate and
fluctuating wellbeing the way we do, and in dealing with our whole sprawling
lives the way we do. Totally justified, despite all the trouble, I'm reminded
by wild, gleaming, ordinary magic–but additionally completely depleting now and
again.
I know I've been encountering burnout in all domains of
life, and diabetes burnout, particularly, by the unobtrusive ways I've been
taking care of (or not taking care of) things: strolling around with a
terminated Dexcom sensor on my thigh since I can't muster the nerve to supplant
it. Eating 4 Reese mugs at work since… I needed them and they were there, and,
beyond any doubt, taking the insulin, however then viewing, impassively, as the
glucose spike-and-crash impact resulted. Understanding a low is inching in, and
rather than promptly getting up to get some juice, burning through 3 minutes
sitting on the edge of my bed with my head in my grasp, thinking just, I. Am.
So. Tired.
Discussing low glucose, my glucose is low now, as I compose
this, so… I need to go deal with that now.
This feels like an exact approach to end this specific post,
in any case. In no way, shape or form perfect, yet exact.
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