Don’t Ask Me That…

People ask me the most ridiculous questions about my disease…

“I heard cinnamon cures diabetes…”
“Doesn’t cranberry cure it? Or it helps, right?”
“You can’t eat this right?” (points to cupcake they’re about to shove in their mouth)
“Wow. You give YOURSELF shots?” (As if I have somebody else to do this…)
“Does it hurt?” (Yes, asshole. I mean only sometimes).
“Did you get it from eating a lot of candy?”  Nope, but LOVE candy.
“What happens when you drink?” (I get drunk). “You can’t really do anything, right?” (Ummm, we clearly aren’t friends…)
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NO GUYS – in fact, I am not a typical basic betch. I’m sort of just a normal ish (psycho) girl over here dealing with/coping with/owning the SHIT out of Type 1 Diabetes. I’ve been blessed screwed with this awful disease since I was 14 and I wish every single day that I was a basic betch. That is the biggest fucking lie of my entire career as a human being. But I do REALLY get annoyed with not being able to starve myself OR better, eat ice cream without feeling the guilt that normal people have to feel from it PLUS the fact that my blood sugar is going to be high for like 2 hours following and I’m going to feel like shit. And it’s much worse than feeling like shit for you lactose intolerant people – so I do not feel bad for you.
Or maybe I’ll feel totally fine… up to YOU, universe. LIVE ON. Go ahead, ask me a question… (keep apple juice on standby though).

Shawty Got LOW, Low, Low, Low…

I woke up at 5:04 AM completely wet. Soaked. One of those really scary low blood sugar moments when I wake up and my clothes are drenched. As if I just jumped in a pool, drenched. My hair is damp. My body is shaking and I have one thing on my mind. Literally my mind is blank – sometimes it takes me over 5 minutes of contemplating in my head whether or not I should remove myself from my bed to head into the kitchen to the fridge. I usually keep a granola bar or a juice box by my bed. A package of honey or a packet of sugar from Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts also frequent the nightstands on either side of my bed. Sometimes I drink/use them though and forget to replace them. I like to live on the edge and sweat it out – pun intended.

So after pulling myself from my bed acting all zombie-like and still sweating profusely, I gain an obscene amount of strength which basically makes me feel as if I’m the Incredible Hulk. I feel like a stampede walking down the stairs – meanwhile it’s probably not like that at all but it’s how I’m imagining myself. Woman on a mission: eat carb’s immediately. Sugarrrrrrr please!!!

I open up the fridge and stare. And stare some more because my blood sugar is far below the normal range and my brain is not functioning properly. I pull a bottle of Tropicana OJ out of the fridge and fumble to find a glass/coffee mug/cup I can drink it out of. Sometimes if I’m really desperate (also really lazy) I’ll literally chug from the bottle. Having low blood sugar doesn’t only make me cranky, irritable and/or moody – it also makes me very anxious and more psycho than I usually am. Lucky everyone! Sometimes I revert to childlike tendencies and start to cry. So about now I took a few swigs of my OJ and I need something else to stabilize the carb’s I just drank to bring my blood sugar up. I try to find a protein or some other protein/carb combo – naturally I decide on Ben & Jerry’s Half Baked. Other Ashley low-BG (blood glucose) staples are: peanut butter on a spoon, Nutella on a spoon, apple with almond butter, any fruit that’s on the counter, any & all leftovers in the fridge are also fair game…

After eating something I’ll usually sit down and stare at myself or rummage around for my blood glucose test kit. I set up my test kit – insert my little test strip and prick my finger with a lancet. Then I try to squeeze out a tiny drop of blood – except the vault is completely fucking dry. It’s the worst – so I have to prick another finger until my machine accepts what little amount of blood my fingers would like to offer up today.

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Just as expected! My meter reads a good old: 33 mg/dL.

Ummm….WHUT?! I just chugged Tropicana and ate like a half a pint of Ben & Jerry’s? And my blood sugar is still 33 mg/dL. I’m scared. I’m freaked out. It’s 5:28AM now – I’m all alone and why is my blood sugar still so low? Anxiety. Anxiety. Anxiety. Help. Scared. What do I do?

Pour another glass of OJ / Mott’s Apple Juice / whatever other sugar-filled drink and head back to my bedroom with a package of glucose tablets (Raspberry flavored) and maybe another snack.

Raspberry Glucose Tabs = Best Flavor
Raspberry Glucose Tabs = Best Flavor

Now I’m freezing. Because my body just sweat through my sheets. Put on new pajamas. Get back into bed. Chug more juice. I’m so fucking full – I can’t eat another thing for hours. I still don’t feel well – maybe I’ll try to go back to sleep? Wonder where my blood sugar is at now? Re-test. 54 mg/dL! Going up – yay? Still kinda freakin’ low – I’ll wait a little while longer and re-test again. I know I can’t eat or drink anything else because it’s 5:45am and I’m obviously not hungry and now I’m wasting time being awake when I should be sleeping. I drink another half a glass of juice, I open up some gross organic granola bar and take a bite. Then I fall asleep.

Fast forward to 8:30AM when I’m waking up late for whatever appointment I had this morning (missing it, obviously…) rescheduling that shit, of course. My face is basically stuck to this chocolate pomegranate whatever the hell gross cereal bar I half ate in the middle of the night. My room is a mess. I test my blood sugar, 245 mg/dL. WHATTTT THE FFFFFFF? WHY?!?!?

Wasn’t I just bottoming out at 33 mg/dL three hours before? Why am I sky-rocketed now? It took my body so long to absorb the sugar I was putting into it and not doing ANYTHING – to wake up this morning to high blood sugar. C’monnnn – just can’t win. I’m exhausted from not sleeping and I’m exhausted from having high blood sugar. Take insulin to correct my high blood sugar – which sometimes takes hours to come back down to normal range (70-120) – and try to function as a normal part of society.

How was your morning, people? Because mine was REGULAR.

Regular old morning for me. 

My Fabulous Life Living with “the D”

Some of you may know and many of you may not know that I’m a Type 1 Diabetic.

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I was diagnosed at 14 years old.  For 10+ years, I’ve been dealing with #diabeticprobs. Since the day I was diagnosed, I promised myself that I would not let Type 1 Diabetes run my life and that I would own it and run it and do what I wanted. Ups & downs, high’s & low’s, crazy betch behavior followed by wild exhaustion. I blame it all on the big fat D.

Many people would actually never guess that I have a serious disease, because of my ability to act so “normal” LMAO and conceal my robo-girl lifestyle. I wear an Omnipod insulin pump and a pink, obv Dexcom Continuous Glucose Monitor. So at any given time, expect to find me with 1-2 small white devices underneath my shirt on my stomach or on the small of my back.

I’m not saying the way I live is right, but it’s what I do and who I am. I’m not a perfect diabetic but I’m basically a perfect human so — let me live. Maybe I drink too much. Maybe I eat too much/improperly sometimes. I’m a work in progress – along with this progress comes many, very insane stories. Every once in awhile I’m going to feature some of my awkward & hysterical, yet serious life stories about my life with diabetes.

perfect

Flawed Individual

I’m aware of my flaws. I work on what I want to and especially what I do not want to.

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“It will take time, Ashley,” that’s what everyone always tells me. Thanks, people. Thanks. I want to feel better right now though. Instant gratification is where we are at this point. In the world. In our lives – it’s where I am, anyway. The old saying, “Good things come to those who wait.” is an OLD saying for a fucking reason. It’s old. That’s a shitty concept and an even shittier way to look at life. I can guarantee that you do not know anybody who sits around doing nothing and who is getting fucking rewarded for it. Don’t even tell me Kim Kardashian as a response because you don’t fucking know her. And she’s doing it way better than you are. Don’t be mad because you’re jealous either. If you’re jealous, do something. Make yourself known – do something crazy.

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Do something crazy.

Or real. By crazy, I mean monumental – I hope it’s a positive crazy. Change your life and don’t slack off while doing so because that’s just atrocious and poor planning. If you fail, which you’re going to – get up betch! Cry a little if you need to. Show up again. Show up after a spa day looking refreshed and do it better. Remember that nobody is waiting for YOU. You are waiting for them to accept you. So go with it and let yourself be accepted however they’re willing to accept you. Judgement is real and there is no escaping it. Let them have you. Exactly how you are. And grow. And they’ll accept you again, for exactly who you become.

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At the least – I’m talking ultimate minimum, they’re going to talk shit about you. This is real talk. I can only imagine the extent to which I’m spoken about. LMAO. Because I think of the way I speak of others or how I think of basic’s and OUCH. I also push boundaries often because I do not care. And I get my own pleasure out of thinking it’s funny. Laugh about it why don’t ya? Laughing is good for the soul. Stay cheerful. Hold on to all things positive. Release all things negative.

Timing is not always on your side. Maintaining my health and having everything in check is a main priority of mine at the moment and for always. Also a major struggle. It’s getting better every day, better than I was yesterday. And tomorrow will be even better than today. This is one way that I’m learning to cope with time. Time can heal all. And protein can heal all blood sugar spikes… yeah, I’m working’ on it. Apparently, it all takes time…

#thedailyword