About two weeks ago I had my worst low ever. We were on the road driving. Luckily I wasn’t at the wheel but being somewhere between Jugiong and Gundagai (yes those are names of Aussie towns) it was still scary.

As it was happening I kept racking my brain trying to figure out the why. I hadn’t over injected for lunch or had I? Did I take an extra unit of basal insulin in the rush to leave that morning? I’d already had a near low the day before. Was I just that little bit more sensitive to Insulin from our sunset walk the evening before?

Whatever the reason, the one and a half tabs I popped weren’t working fast enough.

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I had to play the waiting game. We stopped at a fancy pub and I made an obligatory visit to the loo. Every time I go low I might as well have a tiger chasing me. The feeling is exactly the same. While in the lavatory I kept a close eye on my levels but sadly the numbers weren’t looking good. I couldn’t make my trusty mySugr app lie. The numbers surrounded in color-coded circles kept going lower. Orange had been replaced by red.

I popped another tab while my body began to shake. Everything looked blurry, I felt blurry and at the same time, my thoughts were like sharp bubbles that I could catch and get lost in. I made my way back to my husband who was waiting for me at a lone picnic table and told him I was still low. He held me and we waited. I kept testing and finally ten minutes later it came up a few points. We got back in the car. Disaster averted.

The rest of the day I felt fragile like I’d been poked with a stick. The days that followed were filled with unmanageable high readings. And I was scared to take insulin. I took it but I was still scared. I went to sleep at a higher level just to be on the safe side. And when I woke up higher I didn’t correct. Instead, I waited for it to gradually coast down by midday. Every time I tried to gather the courage to be a bit more accurate with my dosing I couldn’t do it.

And it dawned on me. This is what burnout looks and feels like.

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It’s taken me two weeks to find my confidence again. Gratitude has been the first step. In the depth of the low, I remember thinking quite clearly how grateful I was that I could still think clearly enough to test my blood sugar, that I had glucose tabs on hand, that my partner would come find me if I hadn’t come out. I felt grateful for my breath which I began to watch rising and falling in my chest. As the next two weeks unfolded, I was even more grateful for my daily yoga practice.

The ability to step on the mat and feel peace, calmness, stillness. The reminder that the experiencer, the seer, the one having the highs and lows is unaffected. As much as I want to believe I am my body, I cannot be my body. My body is something I have. As much as I think I am my thoughts about my disease. My thoughts are something I have. As much as I want to think that I am the disease, diabetes is something I have.

The depth of gratitude cannot be underestimated. I know it is a way of being that works in any situation, any crisis. I believe it is an essential yoga practice.

If you want to know more about gratitude and how it shapes my life with diabetes I recently sat down with my good friend Lauren Tober the creator of A Daily Dose of Bliss and A Grateful Life Podcast to share about Yoga, Diabetes and why I practice in my P.J’s.  Listen to the podcast and if you’d like to join us on a Daily Dose of Bliss registrations are open now.

Podcast on Gratitude with Rachel Zinman

with great respect…

rachel

 

1 Comment on “When Gratitude Steps In

  1. Thank you for this:”As much as I want to believe I am my body, I cannot be my body. My body is something I have.” I feel this often, and while feeling frustrating at times, acceptance is key. It is a longer road than I would like.
    Yoga is a powerful tool & good medicine to help ease the journey.

    Like

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