Last time, I wrote the words For that is all a young child can understand. Those words, those related thoughts seem to have formed the basis of my approach towards diabetes; indeed towards everything in life.
Those words related to the fact that it must be my fault. Even though I understand now it wasn’t, at that moment it was. That blame became the basis for self-doubt, a constant sense of failure that led into a lifetime of negative thinking, depression… a sense of literally being cursed.
Cursed? How did it being my fault make me cursed? Well, you see, I was also supposed to die 20 or 30 years ago. The longer I survived, the longer I was cursed with the guilt. And failure. I couldn’t even get a disease to kill me when it was supposed to, I couldn’t even get it to ruin my kidneys or vision or anything else it seems.
I’ve often wondered why I have so few memories, let alone vivid ones, of my life. Especially since my memory can be damn near photographic of things I see or read that catch my attention. It seems that I was insulating myself from emotions, emotions attached to those dim memories; emotions of guilt, failure. Of pain. Of the joy that we should all be able to witness, the joys that I wasn’t supposed to be here for or enjoy as some twisted penance for that sin of being diabetic.
That, of course, played right in to the sense that I wasn’t supposed to feel good, feel happy. I never let myself feel those things. It was a waste of time, you see, for me to have such things being that I had a lot of suffering to do before I died. Not to mention that whole “should already be dead” thing.
After a while it just became easy, too easy, to say “why bother”. I’ve blogged about that before but hadn’t been able to link that to things that happened so long ago. To understand where it all started.
That understanding remained as the cornerstone of my entire life, that simple understanding of a child.
© 2012 Scott Strange, Strangely Diabetic and http://StrangelyDiabetic.com