Self-diagnosed hypoglycemic

My brain doesn’t want to function today.  I’m clumsy, having trouble remembering things, trying hard not to slur my words – it’s bad.

I’m sure a lot of tired, over-worked people say that their brains don’t want to function, but when I say it, it’s quite literal.

Today marks the second time in my life where I felt like I might die from alcohol poisoning.  The first time I encountered this, I’m pretty sure I wrote a post about it entitled “Melanie gets alcohol poisoning” and I written it at least 2 years ago.

This second time around (not as bad as that first time), I decided to do some research and found out that that my glucose levels were dangerously low.  Our brains don’t function without glucose.  Every single symptom I had matched up with hypoglycemia and even the cause of the attack matched.

The worst of these symptoms involves a sheer unadulterated terror of dying.  You think water boarding is torture?  Try low glucose.

I hope I don’t get permanent brain damage from a glucose shortage.

The cure to this?  I have to eat a lot of carbs and drink sugary beverages – basically enlarging my ever widening ass.

Exercise causes low blood sugar, alcohol, caffeine, carb-free diet fads, any diet in general really.

I’m never drinking again.  I really mean it this time.  I drank 12 beers last night and I felt wonderful.  My friend tested my blood sugar by the end of the night and it was at 98 (after drinking 12 beers), but the thing with that is, it doesn’t start dropping until hours later while I’m sleeping and I wake up with a scary histamine headache and an inability to comprehend human speech.  I can telepathically communicate with dogs though.

It takes 16 hours for the liver to fully process all the alcohol out of my system and after that 16 hour period, my liver can start making glucose again (or whatever it does, I forgot already).  I went 16 hours without the ability to produce glucose.

It’s 11:13 PM and I’m feeling better, but there’s still a lingering panic.  Not like the death panic I had earlier, but about my business.

I hired so many people and I used the groupon money to pay off $21,000 of debt, where now I’m left in that horrible gray area of not knowing if the business can survive these rash decisions.

If the business can survive these next 4 months (the groupons expire in 4 months), it’ll be a success.  I can permanently end all worry pertaining to my business.  I’ll still worry but it’ll be about my parents getting old, where my life is headed, if I got residual brain damage from this last hypoglycemic attack…etc, etc.

Drinking 12 beers and almost killing myself was not the worst thing I did last night.  You want to hear the worst thing?  I’ll tell you anyway.

My dear friend whom I was visiting yesterday asked me (when I was over-the-wall inebriated) if she can work for me and I gave her my stupid toothy grin and said “sure!”.

My brain, although half-way dead and poisoned at the time, still managed to preform its stunning micro-minute “think before you speak” response (my sugar was still normal at the time) and it reasoned “I trust this girl.  If I don’t hire her now, she might find a different job and I’ll regret it later.  I can’t leave my business unattended or it’ll burn and fizzle into a fiery hell pit of regret where I’ll live in squalor and die penniless and alone with a weighted cement-filled chest cavity replete with a side salad of suicidal slaw.

After I responded with “Sure!” and having my micro-minute think session, I told her “The job is $12.50 an hour 10-2 Monday through Friday.”

She fired back:  “That’s perfect.”

We agreed right then and there that we shall go to work the very next day (today) and train.  I trained her during my glucose shortage attack.  Without eating, and after drinking coffee which only acerbated the problem not to mention I slept for a total of 10 minutes because I couldn’t stop picking at my damn cuticles.

It taken me two and a half hours going over everything with her, at least, that’s what I said once the clock chimed 12:30.  Then I remembered more stuff to tell her and another hour went by.  I’ve never taken the time to train anybody so thoroughly.  My reasoning behind that being; if I make it simple, they’ll think it simple.

But anyway, then how you ask, is this decision the worst thing that happened to me last night other than almost killing myself?  Because now, no matter how much sense it made at the time and even now it makes sense still, It was a bad decision because it’s causing me panic.

The saying “slippery slope” is playing on a loop in my head like listening to the worlds worst iPod Shuffle.

“Slippery slope Mel, you’re on a slippery slope.  Don’t forget the slope is slick.  Slick and down you go.”

“Evil august 2015, you remember that?  This feels similar, yes?  Making the same mistakes?  Biting off too much to chew?  Are we ready to see your money all gone this time next month?”  (Each question getting higher and higher in pitch).

I annoy myself better than anyone else can.  Man, what a douche I can be.

I’ve been through this shit before so I know how to handle it this second time around.  It’s always about making a choice.  I’m choosing that my business will succeed – I choose that.  At all costs, it will prevail these trying times.  I’m giving myself no other option.

This kind of mentality stops my panic dead in its tracks.  There’s so much power behind it.  I know how I sound right now, I know I sound nuts again…..

Maybe if I put it a different way;  Like for instance, when I say “at all costs”, to me those words mean an infinite array of chances.  An infinite throng of opportunities, making it quite literally, impossible to fail.  There exists too many ideas and variables that are fully in my control, making the fate of my business entirely my doing (or undoing).

It’s like this;  Sometimes you can’t predict the situations being thrust upon you – it’s as the great saying goes, Shit Happens.  But it’s solely your responsibility on how to handle said shit.  Even if it doesn’t belong to you, it’s literally impossible for you not to react to it.  If you choose not to react, guess what?  No reaction is still a reaction and it’s nobody else’s but your own, hence the responsibility.  And with great responsibility comes great power.

You’re only a victim if you choose not to fight.

Did someone leave a baby on your doorstep?  Well, that baby might not be yours but you’re definitely responsible for him now (at least by bringing him inside and calling the authorities).

I got that last little bit from a book.  I think it’s called “How to not give a fuck.”

Shit, I need to go to sleep god damn it.

But what I’m trying to say is that we are responsible for the choices we make.  And by knowing you’re responsible, creates your personal power juice bank.  Why is this?  Awareness of responsibility, breeds choice.  The more you hold yourself accountable for your actions, can breed a litter of choice puppies – ways out, puzzles solved, stresses put to their final resting place.

Oh shit I really have to sleep now.

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Filed under journal, random thoughts, rant, Self help, work

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