I somehow managed to do nothing today. I tried to work on some line edits in a vain attempt to get tDW fucking finished. Instead, every chapter, every paragraph, every line, every word, looked wrong. I needed to start over. Trash it and start again.

It was one of those days.

I realized it wasn’t as if I felt actively depressed or beaten down. I felt… overwhelmed. The list of things I want and need to do grows longer, while the list of things I actually do grows shorter.

Why is this?

Because everything I’ve got right now is going into sugar numbers, and figuring out insulin dosages and how I need to change my diet to work with that, and making sure I’m exercising on a schedule. Again.

My sugar’s been a lot better since switching back to the Lantus-and-Novolog combo, and now I’m working at making the numbers perfect. I’m still getting one over-200 number a day, and I’m experimenting with insulin doses at noon that’ll take care of that once and for all.

And I’m laboring over my diet. Cutting, cutting, cutting, like bad prose. No more butter, turkey bacon instead of bacon, a sprinkling of grated cheese instead of cheese sauce, and a heavy culling of the carbs, once again. So much for the dietician’s recommended 12-15 servings a day total. There’s no way that’s going to work anymore. Try cutting that in half.

I’m hungry all the time. I’m not starving anymore, though. I added eggs to breakfast and a salad to dinner, so at least I start and end my day well. But that whole swath of the rest of the day is a bitch, and the best I can do is try and soothe my appetite with coffee, which I’ve also had to cut back on because I was drinking so much to suppress my appetite that I was making myself sick.

It’s a funny thing, realizing that I have to give everything I’ve got to one major thing at a time. I keep trying to divide myself into equal pieces that do equally fantastic work, but in fact I can either do one thing well and a couple of things in passing, or a bunch of things half-assed. And doing a bunch of things half-assed means never being satisfied with anything. Not that I’m satisfied now. Looking at below-200 numbers on my little monitor and not feeling like shit is a great step in the right direction, but I find it difficult to manage much else right now, and that frustrates the shit out of me.

One thing at a time. I know, I know, I know. But I hate it. I hate slowing down. I want everything to run smoothly right now, this instant. I want, I want, I want.

And instead everything is this slow process, this long trek up this shitty, muddy hillside, and everybody keeps telling me there’s a good view from the top, but goddamn, the view down here is shitty.

And yes, yes, I’ll be fine.

But, damn.

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