You know, most of the time I try to be understanding. Most of the time, I give people the benefit of the doubt. Even if I don't agree with what they are saying, I at least try to see where they are coming from. I try to keep my judgements to a minimum. I haven't walked in their shoes and they haven't walked in mine.
Today I'm not doing so well with that. I think I'm having a mini pity party and I'm the only one invited.
It all started last night. I'm not really sure what brought it on. Maybe it's the walk and the lack of response I seem to be having this year. So far, I've only raised 1/3 the amount of money that I did last year. And, this year, I've asked more people for donations than I did last year. So, I'm a little discouraged about that.
Or that fact that Riley's 2 year anniversary is coming up on Saturday. I think back to how bad he probably felt two years ago and I was oblivious to it. And, the guilt kicks in.
Or maybe it's because Riley had an endo appointment on Friday and his A1C has gone up from 7.0 to 7.8. I keep thinking that if only I had paid more attention to his numbers that wouldn't have happened.
Last night ended with me crying in my pillow, much like it did every single night a little over two years ago. I feel like we are no better off now than we were that fateful day that Riley was diagnosed.
I'm not in the best of moods today.
So, when I heard someone talking about how a child cried because his parents got him the wrong flavor of ice cream, I want to scream, "He should be glad he could have ice cream at all. Riley would probably eat mud flavored ice cream without complaining if someone offered it to him."
Usually I just let those things slide. They don't understand how much their words sting. There is no way they can. Which is why I usually keep Riley's diabetes stuff to myself.
But, for some reason today I want to tell everyone I meet that my son has diabetes and what he must do to survive every single minute of every single day.
I want to somehow make them feel what it's like to have diabetes in the back of your mind 24 hours a day 7 days a week. What it feels like to watch your child cry and scream about how much he hates his disease. I want them to feel the sick feeling I get in my stomach when Riley is having a particularly bad low. Or the anger that burns in me when a high number is ravaging his body. Or the helplessness that I feel because I want to take this disease away with every fiber of my being, but knowing no matter how much I try it is always there.
I want to make them care, just for a minute.
Like I said, I'm in a bad mood.
I haven't been doing this as long as many of you. But, I've been doing it long enough to know that there are cycles with this disease. Some days I feel like everything will be OK. But, every once in a while I have a day like today.
I know that eventually my anger and frustrations will fade and be replaced by happiness and optimism. But, I also know the happiness and optimism will fade again too.
I guess the key is to have the good days outweigh the bad. And, they do. They do, by far.
It's funny how I do have great days, days where diabetes is way back in the background, but I don't seem to appreciate them as much as I loathe the days that really, really suck.
I need to work on my perspective. I want my happiness to be as all-consuming as my sadness.