I worked 8 hours today. I work at a gym "especially designed for women," and I did a zumba class at 8am. I napped between my split shifts for maybe 30 minutes. After getting off work at 7, I went to my sister's house for the first time in nearly a week. I thought it was the next right thing to do, not isolating and all. I think it was. It felt good to be with family, with people I love and who love me. My brother-in-law's sometimes naughty humor lightened my mood. But I was not ok. I felt compelled to do more to make it ok again.
Oh, I forgot a rather critical part of my day. It wasn't critical to me, but it is critical to get a sense of where I am. After getting off the morning shift, I went to jack n the box on the way home. I had coupons from the mail. I ordered something I never would have (cause it had bacon and just ew.) but I had a buy one get one free coupon, and I knew I was going to throw it up. I did.
I left my sister's at a time that would be considered early for me. I went to the school gym. There I pushed myself and my body and did 2 miles in under 30 minutes. The best time for that distance I have ever done. So that's a good thing right? That I seem to be in the best shape I've ever been? Then why am I so miserable? Why was my blood sugar 192 when I came home? It should not have been high before, but maybe I should start bringing my meter along to check it. I am so frustrated trying to get my labs back which were lost, because I want to know my A1c. I want to know if I am improving my diabetes or not. If not? Then what was the point of gastric bypass surgery if I'm going to end up on insulin again? I hate my body. I don't necessarily think it's terribly ugly all the time, but I hate it none the less. Like I would love to sleep right now, but that is really unlikely to happen.