burnout – à la française

 

 

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This is the first time I’ve tested in two days.

My head does something weird when mymental health ducks are all in a row – ‘oh, you’re feeling happy? Got some healthy coping strategies in place? DON’T FORGET ABOUT YOUR LACK OF BETACELLS, MOTHERFUCKER’.

I packed enough supplies, that’s not the issue here. The food here is fine – when I check my BGL and dose my insulin, it usually plays by the rules. The people here are lovely, and I’m not being shamed in any way by anyone. But something is a bit off kilter.

I guess I just resent my diabetes for getting in the way. I’m spending this year self-reflecting, taking joy in the little things, and figuring out my priorities. Every time I have a pinch-myself moment – the first snowfall, my host kid jumping on me for a hug, walking home past a casual château, making a joke in French and getting a laugh (underrated but a vital inclusion on any language learning checklist!!!) – diabetes seems to rear it’s ugly head. It could be a flat pump battery, host kid accidentally ripping out my site from aforementioned hug, a sneaky hypo, a wave of nausea from a kinked cannula…it feels like diabetes is shoving it’s way into this new life. Every time I test or bolus, I feel resentful. I resent that it has come along with me, as STUPID as that sounds.

I have to get back on the horse again. Tonight I tested, told myself “it’s just a number”, took my full dose of insulin, and drank some water. Tomorrow I’ll aim for two tests. I have this whole year to look after myself, and that needs to include diabetes as well.

 

 

…still hate it though.

 

My favourite discovery at the local Carrefour is HANDBAG SIZED WINE, PERFECT FOR A SNEAKY MERLOT IN THE PARK

 

P.S – look at how often I’m blogging over here, how amazing is FREE TIME?!)

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