I knew it was coming but what I wasn't expecting was the myriad of problems that followed.
Anxiety? Diabetes? They were like best friends going on a bender on my behalf.
I sucked it up. I took some deep breaths and settled into the idea that it will get done when it gets done. The other things I had to do today were just going to have to wait. My day spiraled into a hell hole of not having a second to breathe or even put food and water in my mouth.
Saturday morning I woke up and it all started again. SO MUCH to get done and no time to do it. All the while stressing out so much that I knew I couldn't get any work done. Today, mums birthday was the priority and I wasn't going to let anything screw this up!
When we left my parents house that night I was right fucked on the verge of my head exploding. The party was in full blown *RAH*RAH* mode. For the record, my ears have been ringing since Saturday (almost a week now) as if I went to a concert. The loud voices of my family. Everyone talking over everyone else. My fucking whoopie pie deserts that I spent so much time and money on kind of failed in the desert realm. I just wanted to make something special and I was saddened that it was a flop.
Sunday started the shit hole of hell. These guys were not giving up on the party just yet. We're talking 3-day festival styles. We had things to do that were going to take the better part of the day and were planned weeks ago. Again, I'm freaking out that I wasn't going to get this work done that I promised I would have ready for Monday. That's the problem with being self-employed freelancer, there's no such thing as "weekends". I take days off when I can but there's no schedule. I went to a yoga class and upon finishing it had a panic attack. A real panic attack. I removed myself from the situation and escaped to my car where I managed to calm down. We went to where we had to go which turned out to be a much more anxiety-inducing situation than I expected. Also? I got my period this morning which didn't help my situation at all.
It's okay, just pile it on. Another layer of stress and anxiety ain't gonna change this already sinking boat anyway. I'm in too deep already. Anxiety was gearing up for it's confetti filled bender!
By the time we got home it was 3'ish. I had time to do some work and ease my mind! Or so that's what I thought. Nope. My BG skyrocketted to the evil number above 20. I haven't seen a 20mmol/l since I was pumping over 3 years ago. It was AWFUL. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I felt sick to my stomach and in pain. The usual, y'know? Needless to say I was couch-bound and in tears. I knew why this was happening. Real panic attacks used to fuck my BG up for about 24 hours. I used to put my pump on 200% basal rate the moment the attack happened. It's been so long since I've had an attack that it didn't even cross my mind. I struggled all evening and all night berating myself for not seeing the spike sooner. I had an alarm set every 2 hours to check and inject.
Monday came and I was feeling rough but the results of the weekends celebrations hadn't quite settled in yet. I worked as hard and fast as I could to get this job done before 5 while putting off all necessary self help. I promised Monday. I was in over my head and this is my livelihood we're talking about. I'm only just starting on my own so I have a lot to prove. I got it done. I GOT IT THE FUCK DONE. I could finally chill and be happy with myself. I celebrated with a well deserved and moderately hard 10km run with Ryan. Time to relax!
Or could I relax?
..... to be continued.