I’Ve had type 1 diabetes since 2001; however, I didn’t begin to talking about it openly until 2013. Why? Was it due to timmidity? Fear of judgement? Embarasment? No. The reasons were less obvious.
In part, it was due to a desire to pay as little attention to diabetes as possible. Talking about it felt like an unnecessary nuciance. I preferred to compartmentalize the condition – “unfortunately” for me, diabetes isn’t compartmentalizable. I was compartmentalizing the incompartmentalizable.
An even greater reason for not talking about my type 1 diabetes was this: it ain’t easy. Although I’m a talented writer and can be abnormally well spoken for somebody my age, I still struggled (and struggle) to explain.
Describing what type 1 diabetes is like to a non-diabetic can feel like trying to create a detailed sculpture with a sledgehammer. Words fail to adequately describe what it’s like for me to live with this condition. The nuances are “lost in translation.” At times, it feels like all I’ve succeeded at doing was sculpting a primitive sculpture.
I don’t blame other people for this, nor do I blame myself. Explaining the existentials of living with type 1 diabetes is inherently complicated.
There are innumerable nuances… Countless difficulties.
If I go into detail explaining it, one can easily lose sight of the big picture. Giving an explanation with too much detail seems to give a one sided impression of diabetes. Ironically, being vague often seems to give the clearest picture.
Type 1 diabetes is a mixed bag.
At the best of times, managing it is simply a matter of habit. True, some of the things you have to do aren’t pleasant. With that said, they become a normal part of your life.
On the other hand, it can often be pure hell. The highs. The lows. The fear. The pain. The burnout.