C’mon, Molly. Get it together. It’s not called cryabetes. I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, giving myself an internal pep talk to keep the tears from flowing down my cheeks. I felt a little uneasy on my feet, so holding a steady gaze proved to be challenging after a few moments.
Why was I on the verge of an emotional breakdown? It was all my blood sugar’s fault, of course. For about an hour, I’d been hovering in the upper 60s to lower 70s. There are far worse blood sugar ranges to fall in, but I’d been feeling the classic symptoms of a low for that entire span of time – and it was really testing my fortitude.
My self-talk was fruitless; within seconds, the first few tears escaped from my eyes. It wasn’t long before a couple tears turned into full-fledged bawling. Alarmed by my outburst, my boyfriend tried to calm me down (he was aware of my low blood sugar situation) and attempted to use humor to get the crying to stop. Very quickly, he discovered I was a bit beyond that and that it was best to just let me be sad.
I was sad because I was tired and wanted to go to bed but it didn’t feel safe for me to sleep just yet. Safe to sleep. Can you imagine not feeling safe enough to fall asleep, even in your own bed surrounded by your own blankets in your own room, with your partner nearby?
So the tears came and went because, even though I tried my damnedest, I still felt so out of control in this situation. Not knowing how long it would take my blood sugar to come back up to a level that I felt safe to sleep at, not knowing what exactly caused this predicament in the first place, and not being capable of being mentally stronger than my diabetes all in that moment in time got to the best of me.
Definitely very chronically UN-chill of me, right?
So sure, diabetes isn’t called cryabetes. But that doesn’t mean my emotional lapse – or any emotional lapses related to diabetes – wasn’t warranted. Crying can be healing, and in this moment in time, it was the only thing, oddly enough, that could make me feel a tiny bit better.
One thought on “It’s Not Called Cryabetes”
Non diabetics do not understand the constant attention we must keep on our bodies and lives to stay alive. The one issue few talk about is the mental tole it takes on us as well. Constant carb counting. I don’t see prices anymore just carb numbers when I shop. DO I have my insulin with me? Can I go out without it or do I need to take it with? What is my sugar level now? Too high? Too low? I am feeling your post hard now. The last few days have not been good and I go see the Dr next week. Right now I am at the point of almost wanting to give up. No I’m not but the thought is there when it is normally not. 42 years of watching what I eat and when I eat. Figuring what dose of insulin to draw into the syringe. It currently feels so overwhelming. I think I was actually in DKA yesterday at work, the symptoms fit. The financial aspect of it is really depressing me. You’ve talked recently about being glad your student loans are paid off. Mine sadly are not. Repairs to my truck, house payments, insurance, gas to go to work, fixing the washing machine, fixing the central air, fixing my sisters car. They are all taking money away from paying off those loans. For years I could not pay them since I was making much less and spending much more on my health. It just seems that now I am making more there are more expenses that are not directly health related but yet still need to be taken care of. I here you. Maybe we should change the name to cryabetes. There are many times the name would be fitting.