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Sunday, 1 January 2017

Fighting Through Diabetes Burnout

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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