It is really not fair that I feel this bad at 7:18 pm.

I mean, I thought we had a deal, the universe and I. I felt shitty around lunch time, which is around when I woke up, but through napping and waking in 2 hour up/ 1 hours down shifts, by the time supper and blogging time comes around at around 7 pm, I am feeling fairly human again and I can cope with the whole making the words be on the page where people can read them….. thing.

But no, here I am, at the usual time, and I feel like I just crawled out of a peat bog where my remains had remained strikingly well preserved until global warming disturbed my ancient grave and sent me to the surface world in search of blood….

…sugar. Blood sugars. In search of food so that my blood sugar level stays above the fucking hyperphagic line and I am not driven mad by that Demon Hunger bastard.

For you see, I am once more out of Glyburide, which is one of my diabetes meds. I had plenty of time – ten days – to either finally get in touch with my GP or go to my pharmacy and ask for an emergency supply or get myself a new GP and get THEM to write me a ‘scrip for more, but of course, I just played ESO all the time.

An inability to cope with reality is truly a crippling disease, and leads to all kinds of nasty side effects, especially if you are not the kind of sick that qualifies you for a caregiver.

It means that if you can’t do it yourself, it doesn’t get done. Period. Especially when part of your inability to cope includes having a lot of trouble asking for help.

And that’s sad, you know? That some people just can’t be helped. There must be thousands of people like me out there who can’t adult yet don’t qualify for any kind of assistance in adulting because they are not sick enough or in the right ways.

Truth be told, that’s not even the real issue, though. For all I know, I might qualify for all kinds of help. But it doesn’t matter, because I will never ask for it.

In fact, it would be very hard for me to get myself to a place where I could believe said help existed AND that I deserved it AND had the motivation to actually jump through all the hoops involved, ALL at the same time.

Even the thought of just having someone who checks in on me now and then to make sure I am taking care of myself fills me with enormous humiliation and shame.

I would feel so pathetic for even asking for, let alone getting that kind of help. It would be such a confirmation of what a wretched and worthless person than I am. And how dare I ask for help when literally everyone else in the world deserves more than I?

Of course, that’s not how I would feel about someone else getting that kind of help. But that’s different, they deserve it, and how dare you judge them for getting the help they need, and so forth and so on.

But that’s the problem with having such a damaged self-worth. The water is poisoned at the source. The corruption flows from within. The call is coming from inside the house.

So there is you, and everyone else, and the rulebooks for them are wildly different and not consistent with one another at all.

Now where was I. Oh right, diabetes.

Actually, my abortive search for a new GP is a good example of how my inability to cope plays out. Because it took six of those ten days just to work up the energy to actually go to the website of the College of Physicians and Surgeons of BC and look up what GPs there were in my area.

And then I got the momentum knocked out of my by a problem I had totally forgotten about since the last time I was on the hunt for a new GP. namely that every doctor in my area is Chinese and therefore I have no way of know how good their English is before I make my choice.

And yeah, the fact that a Chinese name for a doctor makes me worry about their English skills is probably a little racist.

But I am protecting my own health here, because I know that if there is a language barrier between me and my GP, I will not be able to handle it.

If they don’t understand what I am saying and/or I can’t understand what they are saying I will have the mother of all panic attacks and it will be a total deal breaker.

So I looked at that list of Chinese names and blanched and said to myself “Well that’s as far as I can take that right now” and I haven’t dealt with the issue since.

So here I am, knowing that I will be contending with the goddamned Demon Hunger, a thing that can make me feel so hungry that my own flesh starts to seem tempting, all weekend because I can’t get my shit together enough to make a couple of phone calls and get the life saving meds I need.

And the fact that I know that it is all my fault and that this entire fiasco could easily have been avoided is just the crapulent cherry on the shit sundae that is my life. QED.

That would have been a great place to end the blog entry but I got like 50 words left.

So, in general, I have been feeling crappy today, although I feel a lot better for having spewed my bile in this blog entry.

Somehow, I need to negotiate some kind of compromise between my attempts to be more poisitive and open in my life and the therapeutic benefits of venting all my nasty negative nonsense into this handy dandy little blog of mine every day.

But that’s for another day. Right now, I am going to go flee reality via sleep.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.