Another morning of batshit crazy blood sugar: I feel like crap and all I can do is add more and wait and see; I loathe all three truths but they are the truths that I'm dealing with at present and all I can do is move along (this is what I'm telling myself). That nothing helps makes the situation feel all the more hopeless. You wanted to know the T1D day-to-day? You've got it: Hopelessness punctuated by occasional rage and/or jubliation amidst perpetual self-judgment that does nothing but harm of which you seem, even fully medicated and with 20 years of meditation on your belt, incapable of "letting go." Between that and Kirby's coned neediness and the constant feeling of walls closing in, I'm about to declare mental exhaustion on everything and everyone and go live in a cave with my Multi-Grain Cheerios and a bottle of wine.

The day fucking awaits; nine days of conelife – though it's better with the new clear blue cone, yay peripheral vision – remain.