The Bloody Doors Off

I woke at 5am with a blood sugar level of 3.3. To be in range is 5.0-7.0.

This isn’t the first time it’s happened of late. Without fail I will wake up shaking, curse the blood glucose monitor and wander out to procure something to bolster my sugar.

It’s 5:45am now, and I am preparing to climb back into bed.

But I think I needed an info dump first, as I haven’t been writing in my blog consistently this week.

There’s no way else to say it.

I’m struggling.

Harold’s been whispering in my ear. So soft, barely audible. Which makes it even more insidious. It’s chipping away at the mental brick wall I’ve constructed to keep him out. It takes massive amounts of energy to do simple tasks. Hell, I’d only been up an hour yesterday morning before I went back to bed. I wasn’t feeling well.

I was feeling defeated.

I am feeling defeated.

I’ll try to keep writing.

But I can’t promise to be around much over the next little while.