WifeMomPancreas

It is widely accepted that people who use foul language are uneducated and just can’t come up with other words.

That’s just not fucking true.

I am an intelligent, college-educated person who knows a plethora words. And I never used to use curse words very much. First of all, my parents didn’t use them, and since children learn from those around them, I just didn’t use them. (So sorry mom, but I suggest you stop reading this right now. If you choose to read on, please don’t be offended or think less of me :))  But the older I get, I find myself using them more and more.

Well, that’s what I thought.

Turns out it is the angrier I get, the more I use them.

And let me tell you people, I am one angry son-of-a-bitch these days. Turns out that I have made it to a new level of anger and emotion and the only way I know how to express that is through profanity. So I apologize, but I’ve just got to get this shit out!

And who do I have to thank for that?

Fucking diabetes.

Fucking diabetes moved it’s fat ass into my life and has a choke-hold on my sanity. I am trying my best to not let it get the best of me, but I feel like I am drowning. I am effing loosing it!

My marriage is suffering, my relationship with my kids is suffering, my finances are suffering, my work is suffering….my sanity is suffering. I just cannot be every fucking thing to every fucking person in my life right now, and I FUCKING HATE IT! I am trying to do everything I did before fucking diabetes took over my life, and on top of it keep my son’s blood sugars low enough that he won’t get sick and die but high enough that he won’t get sick and die. I have a small window between death and death that I have to keep my son, at all times, whilst still being a good wife, mother, sister, aunt, cousin,  friend and employee.

And the thing is, no one else really gets it. My husband doesn’t get it, my kids don’t get it, my friends don’t get it, my coworkers don’t get it, my boss doesn’t get it. I’m not saying that some of them don’t try, but they just can’t know how I feel and what I am going through and that is so lonely and scary. Even other D-parents don’t know exactly what I am going through because, as similar as our journey’s are, they are each individual. People can empathize, but it is a journey that, ultimately, I have to walk alone. And what is really so heart-breaking about that is the reality that it is the same thing for Medium. I cannot know what he is going through or will go through as a person with diabetes. I can empathize, but he has to walk that journey alone, and that scares the shit out of me. I just want so fucking badly to take it from him.

I will be right beside him every step of the way, but it is his journey.

The control freak mother in me just cannot accept that.

The mother in me cannot accept that he has to count every carbohydrate that he eats, that he has to stab himself 10 times a day, that he cannot have a Gatorade after soccer with all of his friends, that as he gets older his insulin needs are going to change and undoubtedly he is going to have severe highs and lows because of it and he will feel like shit, that he will have to be very careful about drinking alcohol when he is in college, that he will have to find someone willing to take all of this on when falling in love and finding a spouse and that he will have to worry that he will pass this dreaded disease on to his own children one day. AND THERE IS NOT A FUCKING THING THAT I CAN DO ABOUT IT!!!

I just cannot accept that.

But life goes on. And don’t worry, no one has to put me on suicide watch. I just needed to get that out. I know it wasn’t very couth, or professional or lady-like or mature, but it was real.

And at the end of the day, that is all I have.