Also me: *has multiple chronic illnesses, multiple mental disorders, stretches myself to the max, only gets about 4-5 hours of sleep per night*

By the laws of nature I should be dead.

You know what? My disabilities do define me at the moment. They decide what I can and can’t do, where I go, what I eat...

Changing my pump set in the bathroom at Red Lobster and some random woman comes up and tells me to get gastric bypass. Apparently her friend had it, lost a ton of weight and now her diabetes is cured!

Um… I’m not exactly an overweight person, and most of my scale lbs are from muscle. But thank you for making me feel crappy about myself random lady that kind of needs to eat a salad herself (snarkiness caused from her rudeness. I feel it’s justified when someone that’s 300lbs tells my 140lb self to lose weight to cure my autoimmune disorder.)

Me: *trips over one (1) stair*

Me: ….at least.

Me: I think technically my numbers are supposed to be above 90 before I go back to sleep, so…. 2 fruit snacks?

Me: I should probably eat 1.5 fruit snacks.

Me: but then I just have ½ fruit snack left, and that’s gross.

Me: or I could eat 2 fruit snacks but treat half of one. ….no, that defeats the purpose of eating the other half of one.

Me: k so I’m eating 2 fruit snacks, and it’ll work out great. Either that, or my number will be 260-270 when I wake up.

*eats 2 fruit snacks and immediately goes back to sleep*