Tired.
Tired of testing, logging, bolusing, carb counting, eating, exercising, caring.
If I were less me, less Vicki, I would just face-plant into the caramel shortbread my friend is currently eating next to me as I type this. Because one, it's from our favourite coffee shop and, two, today they look especially yummy.
But I am very me, very Vicki, and I know no matter how delicious the cake is, I know I won't feel good for eating it.
I try not view diabetes as the enemy, and more like my partner. I have to work with it and not against it, because it's here for the long haul, and there's nothing I can do to change that. You take me with it, not in spite of it.
But I can't hate it either. Because hating something is exhausting and all-consuming. I tolerate it. I think that just about sums it up. Tolerance. Would I give it up? Of course. In a heartbeat. But I can't, and spending my time hating it isn't going to get me anywhere, so I tolerate it. It's there, doing it's thing (or not doing it's thing in this case) whilst I do mine.
I know these moments of burnout pass. I'm a huge advocate of The Pity Party. Taking the time to not be okay and acknowledge that this sucks. More often than not, this is a fleeting feeling, but this time it has very much outstayed it's welcome.
Diabetes is hard. Self-care is hard. You constantly have to monitor it and react to the numbers your meter shows you. It's ever-changing, and there are variables that are well and truly out of your control. It doesn't matter what you're doing, diabetes is there.
It's a balancing act, one that some days you ace and others your face first in the mud trying to pick yourself back up. Some days you don't even think about it, and it's background noise, others you're having to make a concerted effort to check your blood sugar and carb count, because you just don't want to anymore.
I've not wanted to anymore. I'm tired. If I could stop, I would. But, without a cure, that's not an option. Letting the tiredness turn into more than that, letting it develop into resent, into hate, isn't a choice either. Because that's much harder to get back from.
We're in it together.
Seven years and counting.
(Seven year itch?!)
I am living with diabetes, not in spite of diabetes.
And I will continue to live with diabetes as successfully as I can.
