Monday, 2 January 2017

Fighting Through Diabetes Burnout

Folks, I'm drained.

I am super, outrageously drained. Furthermore, it is not for absence of rest. It's the Type of all around 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, yet attempting to move these things forward by appearing to every one of the regular checkups, and appearing to work each day, and refilling the prescription on time, and going shopping for food before I wind up having stale wafers for lunch and conveying a 3-day old container 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 financial balance. It is the Type of tired that originates from recalling that regardless I have a rec center enrollment I've utilized 3 times in 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 economical, which I'm told will one day feel less impossible than it at present feels.

It's the Type of tired that originates from carrying on in spite of feeling this tiredness for a considerable length of 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, at any rate.

Be that as it may, today, my caution went off at 7:30 and I laid in bed until 8:10, made espresso that I didn't have room schedule-wise to drink, went to an arrangement at 9, drove home, and immediately crept over 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 unobtrusive throb in my mind. It is all over the place. What's more, it is instructing me to sit the fuck down.

I am sure that some of you–many of you… the vast majority of you?–recognize what I am feeling. This burnout.

Our undertaking is extraordinary, in dealing with our delicate and fluctuating wellbeing the way we do, and in dealing with our whole sprawling lives the way we do. Completely justified, despite all the trouble, I'm reminded by wild, flickering, ordinary magic–but likewise totally debilitating now and again.

I know I've been encountering burnout in all domains of life, and diabetes burnout, particularly, by the inconspicuous ways I've been taking care of (or not taking care of) things: strolling around with a lapsed Dexcom sensor on my thigh since I can't muster the nerve to supplant it. Eating 4 Reese glasses at work since… I needed them and they were there, and, beyond any doubt, taking the insulin, yet then viewing, unemotionally, as the glucose spike-and-crash impact followed. Understanding a low is inching in, and rather than instantly 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.

Talking about 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, however exact.

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