I woke up soaked in sweat this morning. This is after tossing and turning in bed for 5 hours before finally falling asleep. My fasting value was 9.6mmol/L. Figured I’d slept through a hypo, had my 25g carb breakfast and bolused with the correction. Went to the store and then to group, tested an hour later, and then this beauty happened.
I recently installed the app mySugr and it has a bolus calculator built in (Europeans only). It’s a LIFESAVER. I love it!
Let’s see if I can whip my sugars into submission today.
Gosh, I didn’t get nearly as much done today as I thought I would. All I managed to do was eat, shower and get dressed, and knit the heels on the socks. Not much else happened besides chatting with friends online.
I slept for close to 12 hours last night and remained exhausted when I woke up. It’s easy to forget how big of an impact stress has on your ability to recharge during the night. It doesn’t help that it takes me hours to fall asleep either (or that I procrastinate the torture of trying to fall asleep by knitting until 2-3 in the morning!).
There were plans on my schedule to at least vacuum and sort the drawers in my wardrobe to make room for extra clothes, but so far nothing’s happened yet. I have to do a grocery store run tomorrow cause I’m out of butter and some other staples, and maybe when I get back I can vacuum. I’ve cleaned up the floor a little so it shouldn’t be too much trouble to get to it.
At the very least my boyfriend awarded me with XP for finishing the heels, so I’ve got that going for me! I’m running a little out of steam with knitting; I’ve knitted several hours each day since October 30th, without taking a break. I intend to finish my mom’s socks and then my sister’s well before the 21st of December so I can just do nothing for one or two weeks as far as knitting goes. Sometimes breaks are very much needed to avoid a hobby burnout.
I’m hitting a rough patch and I’m bracing myself for a wild ride this week. Last night I stayed up until 4am because I couldn’t relax enough. I started my dad’s Christmas socks and finished the toes before putting them down and going to bed. Once in bed I was so tense I kept making my heartbeat extremely irregular because I didn’t breathe deep enough. It took over an hour for me to fall asleep. I didn’t have group until 12:30pm so I figured I could sleep until 11-11:30 and take a shower without rushing too much.
Then 9:30 rolled around and someone knocked on my door, startling me awake. I didn’t expect anyone, and that has proven to be ‘bad news’ in the past. I fell into instant panic mode and stayed still in bed pretending I wasn’t home (I sleep in the nude so there’s no point in dressing and going to the door because that takes too long anyway) while my heart was going frantic. I was afraid it was a debt collector or someone from real estate about my rent or something else off the charts life changing.
I could hear the man dial a number on his phone and my downstairs neighbor answered (hooray for thin floors?). It still took me 5 minutes to realize that if that person dialed my neighbor’s number, they must have mixed up the doors and were actually there for my neighbor, that’s how deep I was stuck in my panic attack.
My boyfriend was still awake and I texted him until I calmed down, then I passed out again until 11:30. I got up, showered, dressed and went to group. I worked more on the socks and helped two other women in the group with their knitting. I’m still stupidly tense and exhausted. Not a surprise, I’ve felt this coming for a while, I fully expect more panic attacks over benign shit but it doesn’t help that much when one strikes.
I’m going to throw myself at these socks, I think. The yarn is an absolute gorgeous blend of grays, pale blue and teal that makes me happy to look at, so I’ve got that going for me!
Months it has taken for my life to go on a regular sleeping-and-eating schedule. Months I forced myself out of bed early and went to bed on time because I was tired. I tried so hard to take rest moments during the day, as my therapist encouraged me to, to avoid napping in the evening so I couldn’t sleep.
For no good reason, it’s 5:30am right now and I have yet to sleep. I’m furious and discouraged and I’m irritated by every little thing. I’m on my period and the weather is a bucket of fuck with heat and humidity high all over. I’ve been in bed four times now, and every time I kick my bed and scream into my pillow after restlessly trying for hours to drift to a peaceful sleep. It’s not happening. Fuck.
So, I counted. Ten appointments in the last four weeks. Ten. It’s nothing short from a miracle that I’m still here and functioning at all. Apparently I’m really good at pretending everything is okay, because I keep running into the issue that I feel people don’t believe I’m really sick, despite the paperwork that says otherwise from two different therapists. You’ve no idea how tiring it is to try and convince people over and over again that you’re not fit to function in society unless you’ve been there yourself. (Does that sound elitist? It probably sounds elitist.)
I wish I didn’t have to go through all of this. My boyfriend’s miserable on deployment, I’m miserable trying to sort out my life, and not having him around for the majority of the day is wearing me down so thin it sometimes gets hard to breathe. I’ve had trouble sleeping because I keep analyzing and replaying my appointments, wondering if I fucked up, wondering if I did something so terrible it will undo all the effort I put into all the ongoing processes so far.
I know it’s probably fine, but I can’t get my brain to shut up.
I keep falling into random bouts of crying, especially during appointments. It’s annoying and stressful on its own. Crying takes away precious energy that I don’t have, but I can’t stop it.
In the back of my mind I keep wondering if I’m heading back towards the place where I stopped going outside because I was afraid I’d throw myself in front of a car in a moment of weakness. It sure feels that way. I hope I can get a hold of a therapist soon again because wherever I’m going, it’s the wrong way.