I was fine.
Then, I wasn't.
I was a stupid fight over how many noodles I should have with my stir fry. How many were in the bowl progressed to how I felt about myself, then how I felt about this disease. He was trying to take care of me because of what he read, because he cares. He read watch "your carbs for better control." He was only trying to make sure that I'm ok.
It was like my brain completely shut off. I was mad, then all of a sudden I was so sad. I didn't want to talk, I threatened to leave, and then as he held me, I just explained that I hate this.
I hate this disease for making me feel like I did tonight. Out of control. How it makes me feel about myself and how it's the one thing that as hard as he tries, he'll never understand completely.
I said some awful things. To the one person that I truly would do anything for and who I love. Because he was trying to help me. Because he loves me. Because he's going to be my husband in a few short months. I must learn to let him help me.
I know he would take this away if he could and I wish tonight that he could have taken it away. I wish that the word diabetes never came into play when we talked about our future, about our family, or when we talk about our daily dinner.
I wish tonight that I didn't have diabetes.