Last night I was angry. I was angry at diabetes and as much as I tried to fight that angry, an impeding low brought it out of me.
"It isn't fair," I said sobbing like a child between the covers in bed.
"It isn't fair that I have to do all of this."
For me, I like to bottle things up, but like a carbonated drink, shaken over time, I do explode with grief every now and then. I carry a lot of the burden of those that also live with diabetes, people who I admire, people who I know are struggling and just deserve a break. I carry that on my shoulders along with my own grief and sometimes I crumble, like any human.
Earlier in the day after driving home from clinic I had a moment of reflection in the car, thinking about what life would be like if diabetes was no longer.
What would I do with all that extra brain storage, that right now is plagued by carb counts, blood sugar checks, numbers upon numbers?
What would it feel like if my guilt of not doing enough went away?
How would it feel to not fear complications, or the worry that I won't live a full life?
Upon arriving home, I left those thoughts in the car and didn't think about it. Until that low, when all those feelings came rushing back and I felt as though I had no feelings at all, yet more feelings I knew what to do with. I felt empty and blank, yet explosive and angry.
I knew I wasn't sad, it wasn't a feeling of being sad. It was pure anger at something I did not ask for, something I did not cause, something that was given to me when I was eighteen that I can not return or justify getting. I was angry.
After some reassurance from M, telling me that he understands my anger, my frustrations but that I need to be strong and keep on going. I let my anger leave the room, as I did not want to fall asleep with that anger. Tears, some choice words, and candy to cure my low, I let that anger free (for now) and fell asleep.