Just one of those nights.
So I was about to fall asleep. I was finally in bed and I’m starting to drift off when I feel my blood move a little differently. No, please no. I just want to sleep. I turn over and try to hope that it’s nothing. Or that it’s not bad enough to wake me. Soon I start shaking and I reluctantly haul myself out of bed and down the stairs to make myself bleed.
The meter says 89. That’s not so bad, I have some nice soft cookies waiting for me and I’ll be asleep in no time… Right? I grab a few cookies and eat them in the dark before snuggling back into my bed. Soft and warm and safe.
… And then the shaking gets worse. And I can feel the beating of my heart and the blood as it runs through my veins. I let out a sound, somewhere between a whimper of “why now?” and a growl of “goddammit” before pulling away from the comfort of my blankets.
This time the meter says 66. For fuck’s sake. I go to the kitchen to find something more substantial. The tremors in my hands would be noticeable from the other room by now. But there’s no one up to see. It’s 3:30am. Again.
Looking in the fridge, the first thing I see is the pop. Liquid carbs, would be absorbed quickly. No, that has caffeine, I don’t want to be awake any longer than I have to. By now my stomach has gone from the “nice and satiated” it was 20 minutes ago to “I haven’t eaten in days”. I pull some taquitos out of the freezer and throw them into the microwave. I try to ignore my body screaming at me as I wait for them to heat up. My doctors say it’s important to be patient and measured when dealing with a low. Well it’s hard to be measured when you body is yelling “IF YOU DON’T DO SOMETHING RIGHT NOW YOU ARE GOING TO DIE”. I know it’s being melodramatic but it’s effective.My brain steps back and lets my body take over.
I start to cry as I grab a pop and almost choke because I try to drink it so fast. I burn my mouth because I eat the taquitos too fast. I feel like I might throw up because I barely chew. Eventually I start to slow down and I begin to feel ashamed. How high am I going to be in the morning? I put my plate down and I begin to write this note.
Some nights I can just go through the motions. Test. Eat. Go back to bed. This is not one of those nights. Some nights I fall apart. Some nights I make myself sick trying to get better. Some nights I wish for nothing more than someone to hold me and tell me I’ll be alright. This is just one of those nights.