But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.
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Critical Thinking
Up again, 3:30am... I have been awake forever, and sleeping my life away. Another low sugar, 41... It drops eight more points within fifteen minutes, and stabilizes at that number for forty minutes. I feel like I am losing a battle against the low glucoses at night. I went to bed with a sugar of 263, a high number, and took no Novalog. I wake up five hours later, dropping. Due to my low dose of Lantus set at twenty units, I run high during the day.
Skittles, I live on Skittles during the twilight hours.
I woke up this morning in a groggy fog. I tried to get up. The room spun around me. Stumbling to the bathroom, I barely made it to the toilet. A stream of brown came rushing up.
Night binges. My sugars drop every night, and I find myself eating everything in sight some of those nights. Other nights I am able to awake fully and control the consumption.
A few hours of sleep was granted in my mercy. I looked at the clock. 1:30pm. I had English in two hours. I tried to get up. I sat up, then stumbled to the toilet as quickly as possible. Again I vomited. Again this would happen. Not once, not twice, but thrice. Three times in an hour. Then another two times before nightfall.
I did not make it to English. I did not turn in a list of twenty works-cited. I slept. And I dragged my sugar up to "HI" (over 600) with all the Skittles I ate to keep it from going low after taking Zofran.
My friends are saying I need to get into a doctor; that I seem to get sick a lot lately, especially with something resembling the flu. My mom and I got into a fight. She wants me to get some GI tests over spring break, and go into the hospital. I hate hospitals. I have nightmares about them. Too long have they been my life. "But Gwen, you are missing school weekly because your stomach is upset! You need to go in the hospital!"
"How come you always want me in the hospital? I hate it there!"
"At least I know you are safe there!" And then I realized it. My mom really doesn't "love" me in the strongest sense of the word. If she could she would have given me up, would have left me in Stanford Children's Hospital if they hadn't threatened to put me in a group home. My mom likes me in hospitals. She doesn't like me, alone, by myself, as myself.
I am still nauseous. And I know I am a bit more nauseous and tired then normal. But I attribute it to being tired from my sleep cycles being off, from being stressed.
Why is it that my mother always wants to dispose of me in a hospital? Even though I don't live with her the things she says still sting. I want her love, her approval. I would rather be beaten and abused than feel unnaccepted the way I do by her. On the phone she always has to go, has to run, has to do something else... Unless she is yelling at me and isn't finished.
I hope that I can be strong enough to break away. I really do love everyone... So much that it hurts sometimes. And in a dangerous sense, I almost trust everyone. Even if people are deemed bad, they do what they do with good intentions, making them good.
Right?
3:32 AM - Tuesday, Mar. 15, 2005
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dying - living
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