Not as bas as when I originally posted this. COVID meant working from home instead of in the office for about 14 months (until June, when I have to go back). That helped more than I expected – I didn’t have to plan ahead as much, since I could change my pump without worrying about things. Changing it at work sucks because I have to pack all the supplies, remember to check my pump reservoir quantity, etc… It’s just easier here. Plus, no need to use a public restroom for it.
I’ve also been diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and ADHD since making this post. Getting on meds for that has helped some. Mostly, it’s a “There’s a legit reason I feel this way, and not just me pity-partying.” That’s a comfort, really. Hard for me to explain, but knowing it’s not just me wallowing in self-pity does help.
And I’ve learned to take a beat when my pump starts alarming (Medtronic loves to give you 2, 3, or 4 alerts all at once because more beeps are better, right?). I take a breath, let it out, then react to the pump’s alarms. That’s given me some clarity – a chance to think and tell myself “hey, I’m probably high because I’ve got a bad infusion site, not because I’m a horrible diabetic, or because I underdosed for those carbs, which isn’t good, but it’s not the end of the world.” That sort of thing. I still mumble unkind things under my breath sometimes when I start hearing the beeps, but it doesn’t spike my anger/depression like it used to.
My diabetes doctor isn’t much help at all here. He’s very much a “here’s your prescriptions, next patient!” kind of guy. Unfortunate, but better than my endocrinologist who literally kicked out his diabetes patients during COVID. All of them, I think. My GP doc is much more concerned with mental health than the diabetes office. Strange how that works. I really believe any office that specializes in treating any long-term or permanent illness really needs to bring mental health into the practice as a serious and legit aspect of their treatment, but that’s a soapbox for another day.
So yeah. I struggle. And I struggle with myself, knowing I don’t eat right, don’t exercise enough, etc. etc. But I’m trying to learn to not beat myself up quite as much over it.
31 years last month. It’s been a long road. But I’ll get there, eventually.