Saturday, August 11, 2012

The First Seven Entries

My first entry ....

Crap, who thought this would help?  I have no idea what to write, I really don't want to think about this, it is hard enough to just do it every day.  Where to start, I don't know how I really feel, so I hope this is okay ...  the best I can do is make this a story, I can talk through stories.

I sit here staring at my stomach, crisscrossed by a network of silver stretchmarks, the reminders of the four children this body has nurtured.  I stare at the bruises and the red irritation marks left by the hundreds of injections before, and yes it must be hundreds as I am on my third pack on needles and they come in packs of 100.  

I try and find a place that is not too close to the place I used this morning.  

I can feel myself getting tense, I can feel myself getting frustrated, and then the tears start to fall.  

It all seems so hard, so overwhelming, so out of control.  

Will it hurt this time?  Sometimes it just hurts to push the needle in and the rest is okay.  Sometimes the needle goes in with no issues and then it hurts as the fluid seeps under my skin.  Sometimes the needle and injecting are fine and then it hurts as I take the needle out.  Then there are the times it stings when it is all finished.  Or will tonight be one of the few nights that nothing hurts?  I am blessed that sometimes it is painless and I can breathe more easily.  It is the not knowing how this will be this time that makes me tense.

But I know I can do this, I have to do this, and so I will.

p.s. Tonight it hurt going in and stung afterwards

Entry Number 2

My psychologist commented about how the tears fall from my eyes, not like I am really crying, just leaking when I talk.  He asked me why and I couldn't really explain, it just happens.  He said he thought I was sad, I disagreed, well internally I did anyway. But you know, I think he is right.  I think I am sad, somewhere deep down in my soul.  Sad about many things that I have suppressed over the years.  I suppose we all are in some ways.  What I find though is when I write here, that the tears just fall, hopefully that is a good thing.  Hopefully that means that some of the sadness is coming out?

Tonight I am feeling pretty crappy, I'm tired, tired of work, tired of being tired, tired of having to think about this.  I think that will be it for tonight.  Writing about myself, my real self is tiring.

Entry Number 3

Do you think that by writing you can overcome a phobia?  I'm not sure that I even have a true needle phobia anymore, after 300 odd needles and the countless needle pricks to test my blood, I seem to just be cold about it all.  I've become like a robot, just doing rather than feeling.  Is that good?  Does that mean the phobia is gone.  Or does it mean I am just suppressing again, pushing it all down so I don't have to deal with it?

Entry Number 4

I occasionally read a blog called "Finding My New Normal", it's about life after losing a baby just days before he should have been born.  While I haven't had to personally deal with anything so crushingly heart-breaking, the title resonates with me.

It's time for me to define my 'new normal'.  Why is it that while I write this that I begin to leak tears again.  Does that mean I have hit the nail on the head, finally.  I'm not sobbing, just leaking, tears blurring my vision and slowly rolling one by one down my checks.  What is it about the new normal, this new journey that I am so scared about?  Is it that I am scared, or is it that I am sad, overwhelmed?  Why is change so hard for me?

If I am honest I have always been afraid of change, I like the comfort of the sameness in my life.

Entry Number 5

Tonight I am pissed off, angry and pissed off.  I'm frustrated by having to constantly keep an eye on the clock, making sure I leave work in enough time to get home to inject myself not too close to dinner.  I'm really angry that this is the crap I have to deal with.  So I supposed that means I am angry at myself, for if I had taken better care of myself, then maybe I wouldn't have been here at all.  Maybe that says it all, I am just pissed off at myself!!

Entry Number 6

I just can't be bothered tonight, really what will I get from all of this?

Entry Number 7

What a shit day, visits to the 'high almighty' dietician and the diabetes educator.  Having to lay it out before them.  Having them pull apart my life, my husband's life, having them judge.  Seriously, can they get some people who have more than 'a piece of paper'.  Let me talk to someone who deals with this on a daily basis.  Let's not keep putting me into the 'too hard' basket.  A 'piece of paper' doesn't mean you understand, truly understand what this is like.  You may understand the mechanics of the disease, but you have no answers to the hard questions.  Just the platitudes, just the knowing look when I try to explain.  You may judge me by what I look like on the outside, but you don't know who I am.

And look, tonight it is all so much harder when I try and inject.  Bonus.


  1. Oh sweetheart. Hurting for you, hurting with you. Those sort of tears I think of as a way of releasing toxins. And sometimes there seems to be an inexhaustible supply of them.
    And yes, Entry Number 7 resonates far too strongly. I don't give a rat's behind about your piece(s) of paper. I would trade them in tomorrow for a bit of empathy. Which, sadly I do not get from professionals.

    1. Thanks @the elephant's child, you along with @mybabyjohn are two wonderful supportive friends who always take the time to boost my spirits with your comments. I know that you know what I mean, and thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to support me when you are on a tough (probably tougher) journey yourself. The Universe sends us friends, even ones we may never meet to help share the burden. xxx