I had a sneaking suspicion about my diabetes diagnosis even before I went it.  It’s in my family history…grandparents had it, my dad has it, a uncle or two have it… so I knew there was a strong likelihood I’d get it.

But, I went through the stages of depression and anger this week–sad at first, then I got angry. Even at my roommate, who tried to help me understand how to load the lancet. I yelled, I cried, I hid in my room until I figured out what was bothering me. (I now just stick myself. It’s easier, but hurts a little more.).  I blamed blame myself for getting it.  I could take the easy route and curse my genetics, which has undoubtedly contributed to it, but that would basically be immature of me and would show an unwillingness to cope with diabetes.  And I have to be willing to cope with it to get it under control.

I have been crying off and on all week—-I think it’s being caused by my high blood sugar (230!!!).  Those in the know will acknowledge how dangerous that is.  It really ain’t good.

Now, I am, more or less, ok.  I don’t have enough money for test strips until next Friday, so I’m just testing once a day.  (My doctor, bless her heart, gave me a monitor with two weeks’ worth of strips.)

It’s just been one of those days where nothing is right. Nothing I do or say is right. It makes me curl up into a fetus position and just want to vanish. Poof! Yeah. That kind of day right there. Yesterday was bad too. Tomorrow? It’s another day, full of potential, either good or malicious.

Also, I have to add, I get tired of people’s promises to do this or follow through with that. Words are cheap. From now on, I want action. My new motto is: Don’t tell me, show me. If you can’t, let me know. Everything, honest, will be cool. Just don’t say it then give up on what you intend to do. Otherwise, I’ll start to think you’re flakey and unreliable. You don’t want that.

I have a tendency to move on from friends that consistently are unreliable. Can’t trust them, so there’s no basis for friendship. Without trust, there is no relationship. I have been burned many times before, and I Why do I always seem to attract oddly flucuating ( by flucuating, I mean vacilating…or is it ..unstable..Yeah, that’s the word!) people? I know I’ve asked that question before.

Maybe it really is me. Maybe I just hold people to unattainable standards….or…..I just live in some weird world with weird expectations.

I’m tired of hoping.

I am sick. Really sick. My throat hurts like a Bad Place and my head is all stuffed up and feels like a balloon. I’ve been ill my WHOLE weekend.

Gonna take it easy and try to get as much sleep as possible.

You know what they say about good intentions…. That faded cliche does still apply, especially when it comes to blogging.

I know this is going to come off whiny, but I am so drained by the end of the day. Even WoW is too much for me, on occasion. I feel so boneless when I get home, that I have a hard time making dinner—and sometimes, I don’t. (I refuse to call boiling up some hot dogs cooking.) I have a lot to talk about, believe me, I do. I just lack the energy. And time.

Here’s my schedule:

(Tues-Fri)
5:30 am–Get up. Or supposed to. When I want to play work chicken, I stay in bed til 5:40.
6:00 am–Out the door and head to the bus stop.
6:10 am–Bus shows up.
7:00 am–Bus dumps us off.
7:15 am–Arrive at Office.
4:00 pm–Done for the day!
4:05 pm–Begin workout
4:35 pm–Finish workout
4:50 pm–Show up at bus stop
5:00 pm–Hop on bus.
5:45 pm–Hop off bus.
6:00 pm–Start dinner.
6:30 (ish) pm–Eat.
9:30—Should head for sweet, sweet repose. Lately, I haven’t been hitting the sack until 11. Bad me.

Exciting life, no?

Maybe if I get more sleep, I’ll feel like posting more. Hmm.

And certainly not in one appointment….

“That’s interesting.”

“Oh my god, that looks painful.”

“You’ll feel a little pressure now.” Pressure? Just call it pain, lady. Let’s be honest!

“Come in next week for testing on that rash on your foot.”

“Hmm. That unknown rash on your toe could be dangerous.”

I went in to my clinic for an impromptu appointment, for an undisclosed reason not related to my toe. But while I was there, I pointed it out.  I was a little worried; the rash appeared rather odd. It’s hard to discribe, but at least it isn’t gooey.

It’s probably nothing. Probably. But whether it is ok or bad news, I’ll find a way to cope.  I’ll let you guys know. 

I felt like I was going to die for the past few days. Pounding heart, dizziness and a sudden fear of just about everything overwhelmed me. Fear of a depression, fear of losing my job/home, fear of you name it, I probably was afraid of it. It’s all tied into my chronic depression–depression increases the chance of panic attacks for me, anyhow.

I guess you can call “depression” the fibromyalgia of the mind. (No offense meant to any suffers of the disorder, I just see a lot of commonalities.)

Honestly, I was all I could do to get out of bed and go to work. There’s no way I can write when I’m in that kind of mood. I just can’t bring myself to do it, even if writing is good for me. It’s never fun to feel as if the walls are closing around you or to feel so helpless and out of control. Or is it a blast to think that I’m going to die at any moment.

Yeah, I know I should be in therapy, but I can neither afford it or find someone that I can bond with. That’s a story for another time, kiddies.

But, I am ok and feeling fine! I am continuing to walk about 30 minutes a day, and am trying to maintain my caloric intake. I try not to read the news because most of the articles are negative, and I need to steer clear from those kind of thoughts for awhile. Until I find an anchor of positivity again.

And not loving it.  See ya when I can type and think at the same time.

Tomorrow, I face my doom. It’s D-(dentist) day for me. I wish he hadn’t explained the procedure to me…cutting open my jaw and shaving away some bone because I’ve been dreading it for weeks.