Thought #27: I need to feel in control again.

I am learning all too quickly, that just when you think you’ve got just the right meds and right insulin to carb ratio….things change.

In a week’s time we’ve experienced Ian’s lowest low at 50 and the last few days we are battling highs of 250 and up.

I have always been on top of things, organized, structured, disciplined, and in control of my life the best I can be.

Diabetes has taken my control away. I feel out of control and it’s so so hard to admit.

I don’t like to ask for help. I have managed on my own for a long time and I do a really good job at it, if I do say so myself.

But right now, I have lost control of my emotions, my time, my house, and order in my life.

I finally reached a breaking point and asked for help yesterday.  It was incredibly hard but I posted on Facebook something like:

“There are some things I simply cannot get crossed off my To Do list: the Christmas trees are still up, there are gifts under the tree, there are boxes of holiday decorations, and boxes sitting in my dining room that need to go to Goodwill.  I seriously cannot find the motivation to do these things.  And now I am seriously kinda asking for some help. If anyone would want to help me tomorrow after 3:00 you have no idea how much I would appreciate it.”

Not my proudest moment.

I honestly felt I could not tackle these things alone. I truly needed someone’s help.

The 5 people who replied were relatives and a friend who all live out of state.  I got one “Like” and otherwise….nothing….

No one offered their help. No one reached out.

I was spinning out of control.

Posting that status/plea was a terrible mistake. It made me feel worse than ever.

I deleted it hours later because it hurt too much. I went to bed sad and alone.

And then it was a new day. I went to work and I knew I would face these same tasks.

So what did I do?

I freaking came home from work today and I tore through my house doing every thing on that stupid list. I did it with authority and power and honestly, a whole lot of anger.

Angry that no one was willing to help. Angry that no one understands what I am dealing with. Angry that I have to be in this position. Angry that my little boy has a stupid disease that now controls our lives.

But somehow it made me feel better.

Every box I lugged to the basement was my way of saying, “SCREW YOU DIABETES. I AM TAKING BACK CONTROL OF THIS HOUSE!”

Every corner that I straightened was my was of saying, “SCREW YOU DIABETES. I CAN TAKE ON WHATEVER YOU THROW AT ME.”

Every load I took to the car for Goodwill was my way of saying, “SCREW YOU DIABETES. I WILL SHOW EVERYONE THAT I CAN DO THIS.”



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