Most people that know me, especially those that have known me for a while, will tell you that I'm wrapped a little tight. Always have been. Even as a toddler, I was a perfectionist. And being a perfectionist will amp up that anxiety level at a moment's notice over things other folks wouldn't even notice.
It's not as though I haven't worked on it over the years. And whether or not my efforts were always 100% conscious, I have made progress. The first time I was made aware that my emotional responses had improved was when my daughter (then ten or so) left a quarter size ink spot on my favorite peach-colored spread and I just said, "Well, it's only a blanket." She couldn't believe it.
But that was some time ago and I still get more anxious than most. Sometimes out of nowhere. Sometimes when it causes real problems. And sometimes when I'm doing my damnedest not to.
Sometimes I think getting older has helped. And sometimes I think it's made it worse. But regardless, on any given day, things can happen in my life that can cause anxiety. And how well I deal with it has everything to do with my quality of life that day. What does this have to do with managing my diabetes? Diabetes is an integral part of my life, that's what.
Yesterday, I woke up at 4 a.m. (two hours before I usually rise) and couldn't go back to sleep because I was thinking about an organizational responsibility I've taken on that is fairly huge and requires work and a lot of thought. After some half-hearted attempts to go back to sleep, I got up and started my day. This raised my anxiety a tad because I know that getting six hours instead of eight hours of sleep generally raises my blood glucose level and makes me feel less well. Which is not fun. Additionally, I knew I was facing a conference call at 9:30 and, while I was trying to remain optimistic, I suspected it might become contentious (which is did), raising my anxiety level further -- on top of the fatigue.
I handled the situation in advance somewhat by refusing to obsess on the call and even doing a thirty-minute aerobic routine to lower my BG level and raise my endorphins before the call started. But sure enough, the call went roughly how I expected it to go and by the time I got off the phone -- after two hours -- my stomach was in a knot.
Fortunately, the call ran so long that it left me only thirty minutes to grab a quick shower and meet a friend for lunch, leaving no time to stew. But when I got to the coffee shop, I discovered they were completely out of anything to eat other than sweet rolls. By that time, I was working on three layers of anxiety-producing stimuli and flummoxed over what to do about lunch. Though I hated to seem petty, I asked my friend if we could go somewhere else, and we did.
Then, after arriving, getting lunch and coffee on the table, and slipping into the bathroom to take my insulin, I discovered that the insulin pen I had brought only had one unit of insulin left in it while I needed four units. So here I was, at the restaurant, exhausted, with food on the table, a BG level that was already elevated, and a quarter of the medication I needed so I could eat. What to do? What to do?
I ate. I drank my coffee. I hung out with my friend. And three hours later, I went home, checked my glucose level, took some more insulin, went on with my day, and went to bed early. Some days are just like that. Complicated. Anxiety-producing. Less than stellar. Not my favorite kind. But they pass quicker if I let them.
What did I do to get myself through it all? I got up instead of lying in bed being angry because I couldn't sleep. I stuck to my usual regimen to the extent possible. I did aerobics. I didn't spend time worrying. I kept my mind busy with other things instead. I spent time with a friend, doing something I enjoy. I gave myself a free pass for not being better prepared with my insulin. I adjusted my BG as soon as I could. And I went to bed early enough to get a good night's sleep that night.
Was I anxious? By fits and starts, at particular moments. But overall, not much. It could have been far, far worse.
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