Week Three - Practice What You Preach

Like most people, Fridays were the day I looked forward to the most - you know, back in the day where this endlessness didn't exist.

I'd walk Violet round to school, jump in the car and head out for a coffee with my wife before logging on a little later than usual.  Hectic diaries meant that Friday mornings were usually the only chance we both had an hour or so of free time so we'd make the most of it.  I used to have very few meetings so could catch up on all my work and head into the weekend relatively relaxed and caught up.

Now every day has a pretty consistent feel about it, with the remnants of my old regular meetings being the only reminder about the old 'structure' that life used to have.

Instead of looking forward to Fridays, I honestly feel like I'm just trying to survive them.  The last couple of weeks it's felt like I've shut my laptop down at 5pm (if I'm lucky) and I'm broken.

My job means I need to be there for a pretty large group of people who are all going through the same things, but with different perspectives, challenges and fears.  Actually it's not that I need to be there, I want to be.  My team do a hell of a lot and I think feels as familial as it could be for 30 people spread right across the UK, and I want to support all those people who are absolutely my work family.

What I'm struggling with is the ability to follow the advice I give everyone else - certainly not to the same extent.

My wife asked me why, given I'm pretty well-practiced at worrying whether or not the sun will come up tomorrow, am I being pretty laid back about this whole end-of-the-world-global-pandemic situation?

Stress Control and CBT definitely helped to some degree.  I can only control the things I can control. I need to find the thing(s) that drive that worry and be objective about them.  I need to rationally see what's going on around me rather than live life through some anxiety-fuelled lens of madness (this one is still hard sometimes). 

But that's not always how I feel.  Friday afternoon usually has me at that point where my chest aches... not physically, but that feeling you* get when you feel like you've been tense for a week and have only just realised it.

*I say 'you' - could just be me...

I know it's not possible to stick to the same routine I had 8 weeks ago, and I've started making changes.  A 10 minute walk around the block when I can manage it is a big part of the day, as is sticking on some calming music or a 10 minute meditation on my phone.  It's hard to explain the difference some deep breathing can actually make.

What I need to get better at is remembering this is a long haul.  Cramming my diary with meeting after meeting might give the illusion of productivity or accomplishment, but I don't think the cost is always worth the payoff.  I'm getting better at skipping out on those things I think don't need me and gradually getting better at making time for myself - even just to get up from my desk and sit on the sofa in my favourite corner for a few minutes.

So I need to practice more of what I preach.  Always easier to be objective for other people and I need to give more of that to myself.

If you got this far - thanks.  Hope you're managing well too.

Stay safe x

A smashed glass

Have you ever smashed a glass whilst putting the dishes away?  I expect you reacted in the same way I did - a modicum of cursing under your breath, thinking you could've had a tighter grip on it, and that you'd watched the whole thing play out in slow motion from the moment it slipped out of your hand.

Now have you done that same thing at a friend's house?  Whilst you probably reacted in the same way - the social embarrassment making it worse if anything - think about how your friend reacted.  Hopefully with some sense of concern ("are you OK?"), context ("it's only a glass") and compassion ("don't worry, it's not a big deal - I did the same last month").

So what does that mean?

The last blood glucose reading I was unhappy with was about four hours ago.  I was frustrated and angry with myself.  I'd started the day in double digits for the first time in over two weeks and I'd had to guess at carbs because I'd not brought weighing scales on holiday with me.  Much like the glass slipping out of my hand, I watched this unfold in slow motion.

The combination of waking up around 12mmol, simply putting my feet on the floor, and eating cereal where I was, at best making an educated guess about the carb content set off an all too familiar chain reaction.  Nothing overly catastrophic happened (I stayed in the 11-13 range for about 4 hours) but in the context of the previous fortnight of near-perfect levels, it felt rough.

I played it over in my mind, trying to work out what I should have done differently ("should" not "could" feels like a subtle but important semantic argument I think many of us are familiar with).

I should have waited until I'd dropped into single figures before breakfast because I know eating when I'm in double digits only perpetuates the problem.

I should hhatave been a bit more generous in my carb counting estimate because I know I have to force my levels down when I'm high first thing.  The chances of a hypo were remote.

But I didn't do any of that.  And so I silently berated and chastised myself all morning.  I kept checking my levels for any sign of a change in fortunes and had that feeling of being withdrawn from things more than usual.

And when the shoe's on the other foot?

Now I think about the last time I talked to a friend who had a similar experience with high blood glucose.  I didn't berate them, I didn't tell them to skip a meal and I didn't make them run through a mental list of things they should've done.

I was empathetic.  I know how crap it feels when you're struggling with this kind of thing.  I know how it feels trying to manage 'difficult' food and come out relatively unscathed a few hours after your meal.  I know how tough and unrelenting managing diabetes is.  I told them how I hoped they were feeling better soon, that I know how hard it can be and that however confident you feel, sometimes food will kick you when you least expect it.

What does this all mean?

So back to the glass and it's place as a metaphor for diabetes management (however clumsy it may be...).

It's easy to be overly critical, set higher standards and demand more from ourselves than we'd reasonably expect from others.  Whether that's related to doing the dishes, our working lives, or managing a chronic condition.   If we find it so easy to show empathy and be compassionate to others when they're having the kind of bad day we're all so familiar with, why is that self-compassion so hard?

Things are hard sometimes, and if we can acknowledge that for others, we should be able to do that for ourselves.  That self reflection is harder, and I think that's because we believe that knowing all the factors in play means we should have total control over them all the time.

That's all certainly true for me.  That's not to say it's easy to flick that switch and be fair and compassionate towards myself.  If it was something I could consciously turn on, I'd have done it ages ago.  That self-reflection takes time and practice but does make a difference.  Being objective and rational when looking at our own actions definitely isn't easy - our emotions always run high and make it harder, but the more we try, the easier I think we find it to get through our tougher days.

This was inspired by a short post I read on the idea of diabetes and self-compassion by Leann Harris which you can read on Diabetes Daily if you follow the link.  I'm also thankful to my colleague Odette for encouraging me to write again after about six months out of the game.

Peer Support

There should be little doubt that living with diabetes can sometimes be difficult to the point of making you feel overwhelmed.

Having a good support network is key to helping you manage the times where you feel like you're not sure where to turn or what to do for the best.  Many of us are fortunate enough to have a group of close friends or a supportive family to help us when we need it; to listen to our problems and offer a sympathetic ear.

Some people are a little less fortunate or may even feel worried or embarrassed about revealing a particular problem or concern to someone they have a close relationship with.  In these cases, Peer Support can be an effective tool for people with diabetes.

Peer Support is an incredibly valuable service that's run on a purely volunteer basis aimed at providing anyone affected by diabetes, whether it's you with the condition or you're a parent or carer for someone with diabetes.  All volunteers go through training provided by Diabetes UK to ensure they're able to listen to whatever you have to say and provided support, advice or guidance wherever possible.  Anyone can get in contact via phone or e-mail and you can read more about it on the Peer Support page

Recently I've become involved, along with another volunteer Louise, in a new strand of localised Peer Support that is being piloted by Diabetes UK.  The overall aim is to be able to offer the same Peer Support service described above, but also offer informal support in a more social environment on a group or face to face basis within our own local areas.

Louise and I are offering Peer Support through a number of different mediums (Twitter, Facebook, and via a shared blog) as well as looking to utilise the Diabetes UK forums if at all possible.  That support will be open to anyone who feels like they need to get something off their chest, just needs someone to listen or simply needs pointing in the right direction for some support or advice.

On a local level, we're hoping we can promote the service by getting local doctors and healthcare professionals on board and by asking our diabetes specialist teams to make sure everyone in hospital clinics knows what we have to offer.  As interest hopefully grows, we'll be looking to arrange informal meetings for people to get to know each other.

Our new Peer Support work hasn't been going very long but it's starting to gather momentum and the more we can spread the word, the more we'll be able to help people affected by diabetes with anything they might need.

Louise and I aren't experts with years of medical training, but we do have a wealth of experience in living with diabetes and know that sometimes, having someone who's able to listen will do you the world of good.

If you want to find out more about what we're hoping to achieve, please visit our Peer Support Blog which also details how to get in touch with us by e-mail.

You can also connect with us in the following ways:

Andy (Sheffield area)

Twitter:  @AndyPeerSupport
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Diabetes-Peer-Support-Sheffield/534756433284902


Louise (South East)

Twitter:  @LouPeerSupport
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/diabetespeersupport

If you've got something that's been troubling you then please consider using Peer Support as a means of unburdening yourself.  We use the hashtag #talktosomeone on Twitter so if you need help, support or advice then do Talk To Someone.


Important: All Peer Support volunteers have been through training and checks to ensure you're always discussing any issues in a safe environment.  Your details will be kept confidential at all times.