Yesterday was such a mixture of emotions. I couldn't control myself. I'd been feeling sad all day. We went out shopping for a few hours and i was stable, okay. But as soon as i got home the crash came, a sweep of malicious black shivering over me. I changed from my good clothes into my usual old pair of jeans and jumper. I didn't eaten anything besides a digestive biscuit, which was purged, until 5pm. Then Mum made me a baguette, and as soon as she placed it infront of me i burst into tears. I just couldn't take it any longer. She asked me what was wrong but all i could splutter, was "nothing...nothing" I picked the roll apart, sobbing, gasping, as i shoved each mound of bread into my mouth. Followed with a sandwich, cheese, and sausage rolls, trying to block the streaming feelings with food. Then straight upstairs to the bathroom, watching it all flood away with ease. I ended up cying into my duvet, curled up in a ball, letting nobody in, letting everything out.

There are a packet of asprin and a bottle of strong painkillers in my side cabinet, in the top drawer. I found myself routing through the bathroom cupboard last night, alone, searching for anything to soothe my mind. Just so i could know that there was something available if i needed it. I picked out the asprin, stashed it in my dressing gown pocket, but that didn't seem enough. I remembered Mum's medication for when she had a particularly nasty accident at work, involving a heavy bench and a broken toe. I headed towards the kitchen and was relieved to see the clear bottle of pills standing on top of our fridge.

I'm not sure what was going through my mind. There was a part of me that wanted to take them, wanted to float out of this world and sink into the unknown. Yet, i think it was the thought of Matthew coming home and finding me, knocked out cold, or drifting in confusion, that stopped me. Maybe he wouldn't realise until morning, looking at the clock and thinking why isn't Claire up yet? He'd come into my room and call my name. I wouldn't answer. Then he'd realise, i was gone.

But i'm still here. I made it through. I'm not going anywhere. It will be okay. Stop being so dramatic, your fine, your alive, your completely fine.

I had another harsh low this morning, after injecting too much insulin at 5am.1.7, no lucozade left, i had to make myself a sugary tea. Spilling it everywhere as i stirred, all over the blue surface top. Managed to get back upstairs, holding the warm mug in my shaking hands. I had to get through my routine, of 10 spoonfuls, then 21 before i can drink it properly. I'd just passed 10, and my hands were staring to numb, i already couldn't feel my feet. I kept thinking 'just keep going, hurry up.' Somehow i got through it, discarded the silver aid after the 21st sip and quickly drank the rest. For the next 20 minutes i just lay disillusioned on my bed as the glucose set in.

I can't make decisions today. My head is full of clouds and mist, i can't find my thoughts.