I’m heading back to reality today after a relaxing, yet eventful Easter break, a few too many Lindt bunnies and hot cross buns.
I haven’t easily forgotten the exhaustion I felt towards the end of last year. I’d pushed myself too hard at the time. My mind was in overdrive thinking about all of the things I wanted to get done at once, even though I knew it wasn’t realistic. It also wasn’t realistic to be able to keep going to work day in, day out for months and months on end with no break in sight.
I’m trying to map out my breaks throughout 2016, so that I’ll have something to look forward to. I’m also trying to give myself a bit more time to breathe at the end of the day, reminding myself that all of the things on my list will still be there to do tomorrow.
Hence, a break over Easter, and a break from my blog.
I will also confess to feeling a little ‘removed’ from my diabetes for a few days over the Easter weekend. Diabetes took a bit of a backseat while I was worried about a family member who wasn’t well.
The routine things like testing my blood sugar level after lunch, or getting up to test during the night seemed pointless in comparison to what was going on. There were occasions where I would fail to give my insulin dose straight away. Seeing morning numbers like 10, 12, or even 14 on the meter are usually enough to make me either angry or emotional (or both). Yet they didn’t even upset me in the slightest at the time. In comparison to what was going on, a few high numbers felt like the least of my worries.
For almost six years, I’ve managed diabetes through uni assignments, through working, through celebrations, through burnouts, through birthdays, Christmases and Easters. Yet there’s only ever been one thing that has actually made me abandon my post as the operator of my broken pancreas.
I felt removed from my diabetes that weekend. I felt as though my diabetes was miles and miles away from my body. I didn’t want anything to do with it. Rather, I didn’t feel compelled to do the things that I should have been doing. Those things didn’t even seem remotely important at the time.
It was bitter to see someone I loved unwell. But it was sweet to have a break, to get used to the whole not-going-to-work thing, watch movies at lunchtime and watch Autumn set in.
Bitter-Sweet. Just like diabetes, right?