I wake up. My legs feel like wet noodles. "I'm low."

I wake up. My mouth is dry and feels like it is stuffed with cotton. "I'm high."

Nearly 10 and a half years into being a Type One Diabetic (T1D) and I don't even have close to 10 percent of it figured out. This disease is relentless, unpredictable, and to be honest, kind of a douchebag. Every day I wake up and fight my battles, and every night I go to sleep hoping to wake up the next day, where there are an infinite amount of scenarios that can (and will) take place in my world of diabetes.

If I wake up with a low blood sugar (for me this is a blood glucose test of less than 100), I have to eat breakfast right away. Besides the fact that eventually, I would go unconscious from lack of sugar in my body to be used as fuel, I simply can not function enough to get ready for the day. I am shaky, dizzy, confused, and weak. I start to panic when I'm alone because if I were to go unconscious, it would be a long time before anyone found me. Probably too long. Most likely I chug juice while making toast, and possibly shuffling through the fridge for more sugary/carby foods. It is almost like being on autopilot. My body is literally starving for energy, so I don't have to think about what I need. I just do.

When I wake up with high blood sugar...

Okay well, let me stop there. For me, high blood sugar is a different world than most Type One's. I am so uncontrolled that I don't start to "feel" high until I'm in the 4 or 5 hundreds. Typically a T1 tries to keep their blood sugar less than 150. So when I wake up and prick my finger, I test a 300 and need insulin right away. I put that number in my insulin pump and click through a few screens before it agrees to administer insulin through a port I'm wearing on my thigh or stomach. If I test at, let's say, 550? I'm kinda screwed. I desperately need water and insulin. I need to lay down because my brain is in a fog and I'm extremely nauseous. I can't though. My job does not allow me to choose my hours by any means. I am a teacher, and my kids need me.

I muddle through getting ready. I debate not wearing eye makeup because my eyes are sore due to lack of sleep. Diabetes doesn't let you sleep. Low blood sugars mean waking up to drink juice and waiting until I'm steady enough to fall back asleep. High blood sugars mean frequent trips to the bathroom and bottle after bottle of water.

I have a huge lunch box packed with low carb snacks in case I'm running high today. I keep juice boxes and glucose tabs (basically flavored pieces of chalk with carbohydrates packed in, blegh!) at work, in my car, and my backpack, in case I go low. I also have to keep extra infusion sets (the site on my body where insulin goes in,) in case I rip my current one out. Alcohol swabs, syringes, pain killers, my glucose meter for when I need to test my blood sugar. When first diagnosed, a doctor or Certified Diabetes Educator (CDE) will teach the diabetic or their family how to keep and carry their "kit." This consists of all supplies needed in case a zombie apocalypse occurs. Just kidding, your family wants to go out to dinner and a movie for a couple of hours.

I go low at work and have to ignore it as best I can until I can find another teacher to step into my classroom. I can't just leave my students, as inconvenient as that is. I have that shaky, weak, noodly feeling and there's a pulsing in my head.

Often times I want a snack, but I don't eat one because I don't want to give insulin. By the third day of a pump site, my body is starting to reject it. Bolusing, (administering) insulin burns and aches. "It's just not worth it," I think. I had a lot of reasons to refuse a pump for nine years. The biggest was people seeing it, and then the fear of a student accidentally ripping it out at work while I carry or play with them.

When I get to lunch I usually debate whether or not to eat. By the time I test my blood sugar, give insulin, and heat up my food, I have to scarf everything down to get back on time. My boss (and coworkers) are super cool about giving me time to do things I need. Like today, when my pump shut off because I forgot to charge it so I had to race home and grab my charger. It wasn't always this way. At my first job we only had one bathroom for roughly 60 people. I felt rude taking time to use the toilet and give insulin. It was a given someone would knock on the door and I would panic. I would go the entire day not administering any insulin at all. By 3 or 4 pm I was ready to vomit or fall asleep.

I am beyond happy that I now have my t: slim pump and can give insulin by pressing a few buttons. I feel so much better most of the time.

By the time I get home from work I am usually too exhausted to do anything but nap. Some days I have errands to run, or I go hang out with my niece and nephew. I will do things just to stay awake so I can sleep at night. Between chronic insomnia, sleep anxiety, and chronic fatigue, my sleep schedule is a disaster. I can't fall or stay asleep, but I am nearly always past the point of exhaustion. Which is even more exhausting. If I do have energy, or I'm on one of those weeks where my body is agreeing to function somewhat normally, I try to get as much as possible done. Meal prep, laundry, dishes, vacuuming, cleaning the bathroom. This makes it easier if I have a few really tough days in a row when I can only get the bare minimum accomplished, if that.

I hang out with my roommate for a bit, and sometimes my best friend, but she ditched me for college. She still loves me though and even published an article about me. Every two or three nights I have to change my cartridge (the space filled with insulin) and my pump site. I like to shower for super long on these days because for once I don't have plastic or technology attached to my body. I test my blood sugar again, making sure I am not too low or too high to sleep safely. For the last 3,772 days since my diagnosis. Tomorrow I will wake up and keep counting. I hope.