Today is one of those mornings.
I woke with a tight, pressing headache, the kind that feels like it’s wrapping around my head in a slow, stubborn grip. My brain is foggy, as if someone pulled a thin gray curtain over my thoughts. And my pump? It keeps chiming at me—insistent, impossible to ignore—because my blood sugar is high. Not just a little high. 268.
For anyone who doesn’t live this life, that number might not mean much. But it explains the headache, the fog, and the slight wobble when I stand up, as if my balance is just a step behind me. It means my body is struggling to use the fuel it has, even though there’s technically plenty of sugar in my bloodstream.
I haven’t eaten yet. Just two cups of coffee—comfort in a mug—and insulin to try to keep up. But diabetes doesn’t always follow the rules. Sometimes you can do the same thing you did yesterday and get a completely different result.
That’s the part people don’t see.
They see the numbers, the devices, the routine. They don’t feel the hesitation when I think, I should go for a walk to bring this number down… but what if I get too shaky out there? They don’t feel what it’s like not to quite trust your own body in motion.
Last night didn’t help. I didn’t sleep deeply. A rash—one of those annoying side effects that shows up uninvited—kept my head itching just enough to keep me from resting fully. Six hours of sleep sounds reasonable on paper. In reality, it left me waking up already tired, already behind.
So now I’m sitting here, doing the quiet calculations that come with Type 1 Diabetes:
Do I correct again?
Do I wait?
Do I move or stay still?
Do I push through—or go back to bed and hope my body resets?
Sometimes, oddly enough, sleep helps. I’ll wake up later and feel… not perfect, but closer to normal. Like my system found its rhythm again without me hovering over every number.
That’s another truth about Type 1 Diabetes—it’s part science, part instinct, and part sheer patience.
I often say I’m grateful, and I mean it. If I had to carry a major illness, this is one that can usually be managed. Insulin works. Technology helps. There are tools, knowledge, and options that didn’t exist just a few years ago.
But there’s another layer to my story: I’m what they call a brittle diabetic. My blood sugar doesn’t like to stay in line, no matter how carefully I try to guide it. It rises when I expect it to fall, and it drops when I think I’ve planned everything just right. It keeps me humble, that’s for sure.
And yet, here I am.
Headache, fog, numbers, and all.
I’ll take a little more insulin. Sip some water. Maybe rest. Maybe try again in an hour. Living with Type 1 Diabetes isn’t about getting it perfect—it’s about staying in conversation with your body, even on days when it doesn’t make much sense.
And if I’m lucky, by this afternoon, I’ll feel like myself again.
More later ...
I hope you feel better soon, back on an even keel with your diabetes.
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