Dealing With The Downs

I am now working my way through a book about running. Yup, reading about running. I may take it and put it on a treadmill at the gym next week. I’be all like “Look at me, I am dedicated!” and feel smug in my own superiority until I realize I can’t read and run at all, and fall off the treadmill, smushing some tender part of my body against a hard surface.

Yeah… that could totally happen, you know… Because I am a dork.

I am reading Run Like A Mother, and when I am done that one, I plan on diving into Train Like A Mother. Both came in the mail this week.

They could not have come at a better time. Thank you, speedy Amazon packing person and UPS driver.

I need the inspiration and motivation this week like peanut butter needs jam. I am trying my best to soak up the positive vibes from my running group, weight loss group, and family. I need the encouragement, because this week has been brutally, violenty, physically difficult. I feel like I have been pulled through a knothole backwards by a team of angry horses. Twice.

No, I am not normally so dramatic. I had a silly moment,, and the previous paragraph sounded way more funny than “I feel yucky.” At least in my head it did. Heh.

The serious explanation now, with no horses or knotholes:

One thing I still struggle with, in my journey to fitness with Diabetes Type 2 is dealing with something I figured out this week, that I am calling “the Downs”. By this, I mean the times when I have stress in my life, get sick (I have a cold and some sort of gastro nasty this week), or can’t do what I want to do. I go off the rails with my diet, and the spiral of feeling lethargic, cranky and hormonal, followed by emotional eating, followed by more cranky, tired and hormonal gets me. I become forgetful and dunder-headed, I get short-tempered, I get sleepy (read: exhausted and wrung out like an old, wet rag), and I get negative. (This seems to happen around when my period is due, a likely trigger… Joy unspeakable, right?)

So cue the chocolate-binge and sobbing after watching sappy commercials, or the sudden unswerving need to curl up in a ball and block out the world, or escape into a book/video game/writing. Cue the remorse and the self-loathing for not being a good adult and taking care of business the way I’m supposed to. Cue the running and the hiding of my family as the Diabetes Beast replaces Mommy.

To be honest, I do this to myself. I have to be stronger, better, faster in dealing with the onset of the Downs. I know the pattern (or at least recognized it this week), so I need to conciously break it. Sometimes, I have fearlessly stared it in the face and said “Not right now, you @#$%*, I have {blank} to do, and I don’t have time for your crap”. (Like right before my Army Run, where I was starting to feel despondent and worried about completing the goal). Other times, like this week, I scarfed the chocolate bar down while watching TV and said “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”, which then, as we all know, became today, and the damage was done.

Now, I am not pleading “Woe! I am forsaken by my body! Pity me, great Internets! tell me I am strong and bodacious and I will worry not!”. Not in the least. I know I have to nut up and deal better. It is mighty hard, and a process. I forget this and demand results NOW, setting it up for me to be frustrated, railing that I can’t figure this @#$% out.

Some Diabetics take years to get their sugars under control, finding the right balances of food, medication and activity. I am lucky. My sugars have been ok, save the highs and lows that I always know will happen. My Metformin is helping a lot, even though sometimes it gives me a stomach that thinks I am on a cruise ship, or a digestive system that thinks I just ate street food in Mexico.

I am very active now, and this is so important. But it also goes bye-bye when the Downs hit, because I have no physical energy to get up and go. Simply being a parent, employee, wife and a human is all I can muster, never mind athlete. My body usually says “%$#@ you. Sleep. Now.” I have tried int he past to do a run when feeling like this, and it never goes well. It never makes me feel better. I always end up shaking, puking, or aborting the workout.

Diabetes sucks, y’all.

This week has been a stellar case, hence the epiphany I had looking at the week and going “Oh crap, here we go again, Stupid.” and I am at Friday, valiantly hoping that I can pull out of it for the weekend. I want to go for a run, maybe do a workout. I want to have fun with my family. I don’t want to be short-tempered and tired. This is part of the process, recognizing it. Choosing to get off the roller-coaster and snapping the Downs pattern. Learning how and what to do, to take care of myself better when I am stressed, sick, or busy-as-heck.

Next time, I’ll be better at dealing with the Downs… Because you bet your bippy (What is a bippy? Anyone? Bueller?) there will be a next time.

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