I hope that the moment you read the title of this blog post, Avril Lavigne’s smash hit from 2002 got stuck in your head (sorry, not sorry).
On a related note, it felt like it was the right phrase to use as a title for this post.
In the past, I’ve written how diabetes has turned me into a bit of a control freak (meaning that I don’t do well with the curve balls it sometimes launches into my path). I prefer a schedule – nothing too regimented, just enough to know what to expect in terms of diabetes issues in a day. And that’s not always possible; hence, I have some control-freak tendencies.
Lately, I’m also wondering if diabetes has made me more emotional.
The thought occurred to me when I was deep in self-reflection mode, a place I’ve found myself going to again and again throughout my quarantine. I started thinking about instances in which I let my blood sugar influence my mood, and I realized that it happens more often than I care to admit.
I wonder if the tie between my emotions and my diabetes exists because my diabetes requires me to be so attentive to my body at all times that it’s also caused me to have a heightened awareness of my emotions and what may be causing them. I definitely allow blood sugars, both high and low, to affect how I feel when they happen. I let the successes and failures of diabetes technology influence my mood. And when I start to get down in the dumps about non-diabetes things, it often turns into full-blown diabetes burnout.
Diabetes is complicated on its own.
But to think that it interferes with my emotions, too?
Isn’t it enough for diabetes to impact me just physically and leave my mental state out of it?
The title of this post really should be “Sorry Twitter but I haven’t been an active user in about two and half months for some specific reasons I’m about to highlight here, but hopefully I’ll come back to you later when things settle down,” but that’s just not very catchy, is it?
The reason why I’m saying ta-ta for now, Twitter, is that it’s become a really tough space to dwell in – or even pop in for a quick visit – throughout this pandemic.
It’s nothing that any account that I follow did or tweeted specifically…it’s just an amalgamation of everything that appears on the site these days. Between the news alerts and downright depressing tweets showing up left and right on my feed, it’s taken a huge hit on my mental health.
It’s a shame because for a long while, Twitter was kind of my go-to in terms of connecting with the diabetes community. I participated in weekly diabetes social media advocacy chats that were a lot of fun and a great way to communicate with fellow T1Ds near and far. But as Twitter grew more and more negative for me, I found myself gravitating more towards Instagram, where things are admittedly a little too shiny/happy/beautiful/perfect all the time. Instagram doesn’t quite fill the void that Twitter did for me in terms of linking up with my T1D community, but it’s something steady I can rely on for now, and with the added benefit of introducing me to other T1Ds who might not be on Twitter.
I’ll end this post by saying that I doubt I’m the only one who feels this way about one or more types of social media during the pandemic. Actually, I know FOR SURE that I’m not the only one who has felt emotionally drained by logging into different platforms and seeing just the one post that is enough to sap you of all positive, happy feelings. And you know what my advice would be to anyone who has felt the same way as me? Recognize it by avoiding those platforms for as long as you need to. I deactivated my Facebook profile for a couple of different weeks so far this year and my mental health absolutely benefited from me doing so. I don’t tap on the Twitter app on my phone lately and I know I’m saving myself from a ton of anxiety and emotional turmoil.
Just like the world has adapted to this “new normal”, it’s all about being pliable enough to see what does and doesn’t work for your mental heath right now, and then identifying alternative ways you can support it.
If I was an old-timey sailor keeping a log on my voyage across the ocean right now, I imagine that my entry for today would look a little something like this:
Quarantine, Day #55: It’s been almost two full months since I’ve set foot outside of the confines of my home. I’m so appreciative of the little things, like good weather days and food to sustain me, but I never realized how much I would miss face-to-face interaction with human beings. I miss everyone: my extended family, my friends, my coworkers. I miss people who are physically close by and far away from me. I miss strangers. No wonder all the rum is gone, me hearties!
Okay, so that last line is a bit of a stretch, but you get the gist of it.
The times and the circumstances are making me (and many others) feel a unique sense of loneliness.
Yes, I’m lucky enough to be quarantined with people and a dog who love me. I don’t take that granted for a second, nor do I want to forget how fortunate I am to have so many things that others do not (ample food, clothing, Internet access, entertainment options, etc.).
Still, I’ve felt deep, dark pangs of loneliness and sadness a handful of times since my quarantine began.
I’ve felt profound sadness for others: My heart aches for anyone who has lost a loved one due to this wretched thing. I constantly worry about the physical and mental health of those on the front lines of it all and wish there was more I could do.
I’ve felt isolated from my loved ones: Sure, I have video chat and texting and those are excellent ways of keeping in touch with people. But it doesn’t compare to the in-person connection that I have with my extended family, friends, coworkers, and others in general.
In my most melancholy moments, I’ve cried ugly tears that I couldn’t control because I can’t find the words and I can’t even fully understand my own feelings in those fleeting periods.
Is it disgust at myself for crying in the first place when I don’t really have anything to cry over because I am a gainfully employed individual who has access to her medication and other living essentials?
Is it frustration at myself for allowing myself to be dragged down by my conflicting emotions?
Is it anger over taking the little things for granted or for this whole situation, in general?
Is it grief over the many life changes I’ve faced in the last year? A longing for the way things were before?
I don’t know the answers to those questions, but I do know that the waves of loneliness I’ve ridden in the last six weeks (and are bound to continue to ride occasionally) have directly impacted my diabetes.
I’m going to be real with myself (and you) for a hot second here: I haven’t taken particularly excellent care of myself in all this. My eating habits have changed. I’ve spent more time knocking down my body and its appearance than appreciating it for what it is. And I’ve berated myself over and over again, asking myself why I can’t just get my shit together and produce better blood sugars, dammit.
So…how exactly am I going to change this? How can I make my thoughts and feelings about myself and my diabetes healthier when I’m already struggling with loneliness during a global pandemic?
I think the answer, for now, is simple but effective: I’m going to work harder at keeping a routine that incorporates setting and achieving small but meaningful goals each week. I’m going to follow the tried-and-true SMART (specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, and time-based) goal-setting formula and more importantly, I’ll take the time to actually write them down. I may share them here sometimes, but I think I should also be consistent and capture them in some sort of journal that is only for my eyes. Writing in a journal may seem silly to some, but after seeing some posts on Instagram about the benefits of doing so and talking with a few friends who actively maintain journals…I think it’s just what I need right now, in tandem with leaning a little harder into my various support networks during those particularly blue moments.
Plus, gentle reminders to myself that even though I may feel on my own when it comes to my diabetes and other roller coaster emotions during this global pandemic, I’m never truly alone. And neither are you.
We’re entering week #5 (or is it 6?) of work-from-home life here at Hugging the Cactus.
Truth be told, I’m feeling a bit burnt out this week.
After a decently nice weekend, I entered Monday feeling rather…blah. Which was annoying because I’ve actually kind of enjoy Mondays recently.
But rather than embracing this one with open arms, I treated it more like Garfield the cat would…ew, Monday again.
The bright side was that I still had acts of kindness to do that will surely make my week better as it goes along.
Monday, 4/20 – Act of Kindness #15: I texted a friend today. This friend is someone who I usually only talk to in group settings, but because I know that the individual has really been struggling lately, I wanted to let the person know that they’re on my mind (again, keeping it kind of vague here on purpose to protect this person’s identity). We ended up making plans for a virtual tea party later this week, which I know will be mental health bolster to us both.
After exchanging just a couple of messages with this friend, it dawned on me just how important it is to check in on our family and friends – not just during the hard times, but also on a regular basis. Because who doesn’t like knowing that someone is thinking about them? Or that someone cares about them? I think that a lot more people struggle with feelings of loneliness than we might realize, so if sending a thoughtful text or picking up the phone to call someone is all it takes to make a person feel a little less alone, then it’s a small gesture that could have a big impact on the well-being of many.
Tuesday, 4/21 – Act of Kindness #16: In keeping with my “checking in” theme, I decided to combine that with my appreciation for the talented bloggers within the diabetes community. There are just so many awesome blogs out there that I don’t get to visit often enough! So I spent a portion of my Tuesday afternoon catching up on blog posts from various members of the DOC from the month of April. After reading them, I did my best to leave comments on each post because as a fellow blogger, I know how much I enjoy it when I receive comments on my writing. It’s always a good feeling knowing that someone out there cares enough to read my ramblings, so I figured other bloggers might like getting a note on their most recent posts.
While I was reading and commenting, it also occurred to me that I could review one of the diabetes podcasts that was kind enough to have me as a guest a couple months ago. I left a rating and a review on Apple podcasts for This is Type 1, and hopefully, the hosts will see it and it will make them smile.
I’ll wrap up today’s blog post by sharing the blogs I visited and left comments on, because I think you should check them out, too!
Hey friends. You probably noticed I didn’t have a new post up this week. (Unless you are one of the few people who saw my incomplete post go up on Monday…I took it down as fast as I could, and the finished version should be up soon. My bad!)
The reason for that is simple: I didn’t really know what to say. We’re living in an interesting time, to say the least, and I didn’t know how to address that on my blog. It seems silly to not address it at all (especially considering I just talked about it a few posts ago). But it also feels inauthentic to continue adding to the already-immense volume of information out there. I don’t feel that I have any commentary to add that would be of any value.
So I’m not talking about our current health situation right now. But that leaves the question…do I still talk about my health situation, meaning my diabetes? Is it stupid to blog about given everything else going on in the world?
Maybe, but maybe not.
My diabetes – and everyone else’s diabetes – won’t be going away just because there’s a pandemic right now. So why stop blogging about it? It might be nice for others to have a continuous reminder that they’re not alone with diabetes, not before, not now, and not ever. If sharing my story here helps other people in the diabetes community feel more connected in this time of social distancing, then I’m more than happy to keep telling it.
Plus…I think it’ll be good for my mental health (and hopefully for that of other people) to have something to write/read that won’t be anxiety-provoking.
Anyways, I just wanted to give you all a friendly little wave with this blog post – *waves energetically* – and let you know that I’m here if you need someone to talk to. Let’s all remember to stay human amid the chaos: Be kind, help others when you can, and we’ll weather the storm together.
On second thought, that may be an understatement. I’m the type of person who always NEEDS TO HAVE a plan.
I always need to know the date, time, location, and what to expect during my length of stay when it comes to anything in life: a night out with friends, a quick trip to the grocery store, a vacation.
I always need to know what the plan is for dinner…and breakfast, and lunch, and snacks…every single day.
I always need to know what my options are should a plan not go according to my carefully thought out course of action; in other words, I take a great deal of comfort in having a Plan B…and a Plan C, Plan D…
The bottom line is, I think that my obsession with planning has a lot to do with how my diabetes has turned me into an absolute control freak over the years.
Let me explain: Try as I might, I will never have complete control over my diabetes. This has been a difficult reality for me to accept, but it’s the truth, and I know that nobody can ever truly control diabetes. It has a mind of its own sometimes, and the best that we can do is react accordingly to the curve balls it throws.
Since I won’t ever have control over this major, major thing in my life, I think this has triggered me to feel compelled to control everything else in my life…even things beyond my control. And yes, it’s as maddening as it sounds.
It affects myself and everyone close to me.
It is the reason why I worry so much and waste a lot of brain space on things that I shouldn’t.
And it’s something that, though I’ve come to terms with it, I would like to change because the rational part of me knows that it’s not healthy to maintain the unrealistic expectation that I can control everything that happens in my life. If I can accept things like random pod failures and unexplained high blood sugars, then shouldn’t I also be able to accept that other random things can just happen in life, such as a pipe bursting in my apartment or the car I’m driving getting a sudden flat tire?
The more rigid version of myself that existed a year ago would’ve absolutely panicked and melted down in the face of those scenarios, but the type of person I’m trying to be now actually recently handled both of those unpredictable events with a lot more coolness and calmness than I ever could have imagined.
So I guess what I’m getting at here, in a very long-winded way, is that my diabetes may have turned me into an obsessive planner control freak…but I’m just beginning to discover my ability to let go a little more and not let my diabetes affect my thinking and reactions to many other things that happen in life.
It’s November 25th which means it’s day 25 of the Happy Diabetic Challenge! Today’s prompt is about the cost of diabetes. Naturally, I started thinking about just how much diabetes costs me, not just in terms of money but also emotionally and physically…
We all know that diabetes is an expensive chronic illness.
Diabetes is associated with doctors appointments, pricey medical equipment, and maybe even the occasional trip to the hospital…all of those things aren’t cheap. My insulin alone would cost me $4,962.32 per year if I was uninsured (and if I do the math, this means that I would’ve spent over $100,000 in the past 22 years on JUST INSULIN). Those are not small sums of cash!
Diabetes hits those of us who are affected by it hard financially, but there are also significant emotional and physical costs associated with it.
Emotional – Diabetes takes a toll on my mindset (un)fairly often…and it can happen so rapidly that I barely have time to process the emotions. For example, I can go from being happy-go-lucky to angry because my Dexcom alarm went off and it’s telling me that my blood sugar is high. The anger will hit me hard and I’ll spend too much time stewing over my blood sugar and the best way to correct it.
Plus, I’d be remiss not to mention diabetes burnout. It’s the feeling of total defeat, of no longer having the desire to take proper care of diabetes. It happens to the best of us, and it’s not fun to experience. But it makes sense to feel this way from time to time, because diabetes is so demanding and relentless. People with diabetes never get a break from it, so it’s no wonder that it takes a toll on emotional well-being.
Physical – Diabetes is a physically present in many ways on my body. The OmniPod insulin pump that I wear, as well as my Dexcom CGM sensor, leave the most obvious lumps and bumps underneath my clothing that often prompt unwelcome stares from strangers. And although these devices have improved my quality of life with diabetes, they’ve also undeniably altered my body image. I never had much self-confidence when it comes to that, anyways, and my devices certainly don’t improve how I feel about my own body. I know plenty of people with diabetes who can relate to that sentiment.
There are also the scars that diabetes leaves behind. My fingers are dotted by dozens of permanent black scars left from lancets pricking them multiple times per day for the last 21+ years. I sport purple circles under my eyes pretty frequently from a lack of sleep that is, more often than not, my diabetes’ fault. And sometimes, I have unsightly red marks when I remove old pods that practically look like zits and can take days to go away because the pods’ cannulas pierced sensitive spots. These are all unattractive, physical reminders of diabetes that I can’t do a damn thing about, and it’s frustrating to have even less control over how my body appears because of this stupid chronic illness.
Diabetes is a friggen’ greedy disease.
It depletes my wallet and emotional state, and it manifests itself on my body in ugly, visible markings.
It tries so hard to rob me of everything I’ve got.
But luckily, my determination to fight back harder against it is stronger than my diabetes will ever be.
I feel defeated when it comes to just about every aspect of my life with diabetes as of late.
I feel defeated in terms of my blood sugars lately: I’ve experienced too many highs due to an ever-present fear of low blood sugars.
I feel defeated in terms of what my A1c reading might be at my endocrinologist appointment next month: I don’t even have a clue as to what the value might be right now, but my intuition is telling me that it’s higher than I want it to be, which sucks because I’ve tried hard to keep it down.
I feel defeated in terms of my diabetes supplies: I’ve had to pay a lot more money than I ever anticipated for them. I turned 26 less than 6 months ago and I’m having trouble imagining paying so much money for my supplies for the rest of my life, let alone the rest of the year. I know I’m not alone, but knowing that others are struggling (in very different and similar ways) makes me feel worse.
I feel defeated in terms of this blog: I feel like nobody else really cares about it except me. This is fine in some ways because one of the reasons why I write this blog is because it’s a form of therapy for me. But in other ways, this makes me sad because another reason why I started Hugging the Cactus was to make a positive impact, somehow, on the diabetes community that I love so much. But it’s hard. There’s many bigger, louder, more important voices in the online space that simply have a better reach than me. These people know how to connect with their audience in a way that makes a more profound impact than I ever could. Lately, I’m asking myself, “why bother” a lot more than I’m saying to myself “keep it up”.
I’m not writing about my diabetes-related feelings of defeat – my dia-feat – to garner sympathy or attention. I’m just trying to keep it real. It’s a little different than what I would consider conventional “diabetes burnout” to be, because I do still have that desire to thrive and do well with my diabetes management…but things just aren’t quite going my way.
I know that other people like me feel this way sometimes.
And I know that the dia-feat won’t last forever.
But it is important for me to acknowledge it now, so I can start figuring out how to dust myself off and pick myself back up soon.
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.
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.
When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your yeeeeear!
*Ahem* Oh! Pardon me, I was just singing that line from the Friends (yes, the TV show, of course) opening credits theme song. It describes how I’ve been feeling lately – maybe not for a full year, but most certainly this week.
It all started with high blood sugars. Not just any kind of high blood sugars, but the inexplicable sort of numbers that were happening for no apparent reason. Running temp basals, bolusing, stacking, drinking tons of water, testing for ketones, increasing activity levels, and reducing food intake were all steps that I took in order to combat the highs. But still, it seemed like every time I put food into my mouth, my blood sugar would jump up way too high, even though I was aggressively administering insulin to cover it. I was taking almost double what I should’ve needed to take, with less than stellar results.
I was dumbfounded. And angry. And incredibly stressed over it.
Ah, stress…the possible culprit?
I’m still not sure, but it seems to be the likeliest possibility. I’ve been running around like a mad woman since I returned to Massachusetts for a two-week visit. I’ve been busy planning my cousin’s bridal shower, meeting up with family and friends, going into work at the office Monday-Friday, contending with other health issues (scratched corneas…don’t ask), and calling various companies for health-insurance-related issues. I’ve had little time for myself, so it really isn’t a wonder that stress could be to blame for my hyperglycemic patterns.
That, and my tendency to forget that haste makes waste. Let me present to you the following photo:
Yep, that’s little old me at my work cubicle, pointing out my barely-hanging-on pod. In my hurry to get to work and start my day, I had removed my tote bag from its spot on my shoulder in a rush. The force from the movement peeled half of my pod up and off my arm, leaving the cannula (mercifully) still stuck under my skin. I was furious at myself because the pod was less than a day old, and I couldn’t bear the idea of tossing it with more than 100 units of precious insulin left inside it. So I did what I could to cobble it back onto the site on my arm with copious amounts of medical tape, cursing myself for being so careless and exacerbating my stress levels.
There’s a lot more I could say and explain when it comes to the level of tough this week has been, but I think it’s time to move on. Life with diabetes means good weeks and bad weeks. The good weeks are to be celebrated, whereas the bad weeks ought to be acknowledged for how physically and emotionally challenging they are, but also for the lessons to be learned from them.
With that said…
It’s been a tough week, but a new one’s right around the corner and I’m determined to make it a good one.