I buried my head in my pillow, the soft fabric muffling my frustrated screams. I hate it. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it.
I was low. AGAIN. It seems to be the trend lately. My efforts to keep my blood sugars from spiking has resulted in more lows. Lows that seem unexpected because I really thought everything I was doing seemed right. Lows that have been incredibly disruptive, making me stop whatever activity I’m doing. Stubborn lows, that a couple glucose tablets don’t seem to solve. Lows that wake me up at night, lows that won’t go away, lows that leave me feeling awful. And upset. And frustrated.
I don’t want to treat the low. I’m tired of stuffing my face with sugar, not because I want it, but because I need it. I’m tired of working so hard in my workouts, only to have to later eat everything I burned off or sit out because I can’t continue with a low. I’m especially tired of eating when I’m not hungry and feeling awful while I wait for my blood sugar to stabilize.
I can see the extra weight creeping on, and I hate it. I hate that I don’t have a choice when I’m low. I hate that those forced extra 80 calories of my fruit snacks add up. I hate that insulin makes it harder to lose weight. I hate that these lows are often then leading to later highs, sending me on a blood sugar roller coaster. I hate not feeling my best.
I’ll talk to my doctor, I’ll make adjustments. We’ll work to get rid of these lows. But for now I just want to scream into my pillow and wish for the day when all of this will disappear. When sugar will just be sugar and not a substance that often feels like its controlling my life.
Some days, weeks, months are better than others. I’ll make it through this rut, I know I will, but today, right now, I really hate my diabetes.