Number Nuts

Many times a day I am reminded about why it is I hate doing these things soooo much. In some parts of the day it is easy to forget, usually when talking to someone who doesn't get it, can't really empathize. They'll say something along the lines of "it's not so bad" or "at least it's not cancer." Stuff like that. And I totally agree, it's not so bad, thank frickin God it's not cancer. For sure. But then I have these moments when I feel completely powerless over this disease, or disorder, and it's like, Yeah, It is that bad. It makes me not wanna live sometimes. I checked a couple of days ago and for a reason I still haven't figured out it was over 500. When I tell someone, like my sisters, they're like, wow, that sucks. But what I am feeling is overwhelming self loathing. I hate my body, inside, deep down into my cells. I woke up early this morning drenched in sweat and my bloodsugar was 28. I had smores last night with Elaina and Matt, and I guess I covered too much. It wasn't an insane amount, but I guess it was to my system. 28! That's death to mny diabetics. My mom said she's seen diabetics go into a coma in the forties. So I want some smores, so I cover what I think is appropriate, eat some smores, and go to bed. What if that low killed me? What if I ate some smores, went to bed happy and full of gooey chocolate marshmallows and never woke up again? Because I wanted smores! It's frustrating and infuriating, but I have to get over it or I most definitely won't be able to continue with the (relative) success I'm having so far. I can't improve myself if I hate myself, you know?