The demon hunger

I’ve got a case of it right now, and it’s driving me nuts.

I’m eating and I have taken my diabetes meds, so it should clear up soon. But it’s got me worried because, well, what if it didn’t clear up? What then?

I suppose I could eat more food and take more of my meds. But I am not sure that would be safe. And what if even that didn’t work?

I am pretty sure I would end up calling 911. After all, as patient readers know, I only get this way when my body is literally starving on a cellular level because of poor insulin response. So if food and drugs didn’t do it, something else had better do it ASAP.

And it’s not impossible that this might happened some day. I do not take care of myself properly and that includes my diabetes. I take my pills and avoid sugary foods, but I still eat too many carbs and I don’t monitor my levels and I don’t take my insulin.

I suppose I could try to cure the hunger with insulin. For some reason, though, that idea scares me. I suppose it’s because I feel like taking insulin when I am feeling like my bloiod sugar is alreadyway too low seems like it would kill me.

But that’s not rational. What I am experiencing is due to the glucose in my blood not being carried into the cells by my natural insulin and the cells freaking out and flooding me with hunger signals as they starve.

Additional insulin could only help that situation. But I guess I can forgive myself for not being at my most rational when I feel like I am starving in realtime.

The fact that this has also triggered a panic attack isn’t helping either.

Then again, who knows. Maybe a panic attack is exactly what I need right now. Sure, it sucks to be me when the attack is happening, but I must admit it tends to burn through a lot of tension and worry really fast and afterward, I feel a lot calmer.

And maybe this is the sort of thing I should be panicking over because this is some serious shit, dawg. I treat it like it’s merely a recurring nuisance, but it’s not.

It’s a seriously bad state to get into and I should be doing everything in my power to make sure it doesn’t get this bad ever again.

But then again, there’s a klot of things I should be doing and I don’t do any of them.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I guess it sucks to have depression and other illnesses, because the depression is what keeps me from taking care of myself properly.

And of course, that means I feel sick all the time, and that leads to… more depression!

It’s a heck of a catch, that Catch-22.

Well the good news is that I am feeling somewhat better now that I have eaten. I will think about injecting some insulin to help things along.


It’s four hours later and I feel mostly fine. I can still feel a tiny bit of that crazed hunger at the very edge of my consciousness, but it’s easily ignored.

The important thing is that I am not counting the minutes until it is time to eat because that’s when my agony will end.

Diabetes is rough, y’all. Especially when you are too depressed to take care of yourself.

I really do need life help. Someone to look after me, check up on me, remind me of things I should do and make sure I do them, and so forth.

A parent, really. They would be my first.

I have never had anyone maintain a sustained interest in me. People have always seemed like they were eager to get rid of me. For me to stop bothering them. For me to stop reminding them that I exist.

So I did.

And its a self-reinforcing thing, because after being abandoned when I became work enough times, I started to react to anyone asking about me with thinly disguised panic. Superficially, I was my usual friendly and polite self,. but just under the hood, I was beaming out a vey strong “I am freaking out, leave me alone” message.

To this day, I feel that kind of panic in that kind of situation and it’s radically counterproductive. I guess that, deep down, I can’t bring myself to believe that anyone actually cares about me.

At least, not to the extent that they are willing to invest any serious amount of time or energy or other resources into me.

They care when it’s easy. When it doesn’t feel like it’s costing them anything. When it’s easier than just telling me to go away.

As a result, I have never had supervision. Like, ever. Not that I can remember, anyhow. I suppose someone must have been keeping an eye on me when I was a toddler to make sure I didn’t wander into traffic or whatever.

But certainly from the first day of first grade, I felt completely alone. Abandoned to a cruel and incomprehensible world of savagery and despair.

Otherwise known as elementary school.

I never had the slightest feeling that there was someone looking out for me. The teachers were completely apathetic to my suffering. None of them would have even gotten up from their desks to help me.

After all, any energy consumed to help a completely worthless person is by definition wasted, right? I mean, sure, I was the smartest kid they had ever seen and it would have taken just the tiniest bit of investment in me to make me a true academic superstar (as opposed to a half-assed one),. but I was of extremely low social status and therefore people were incapable of seeing any worth in me.

So I suffered in silence and grew up to be a very broken man.

Do you suppose those two things are related?

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.

 

 

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