I've written this to help me come to terms with what's been circulating in my head, and also to help others who may feel or experience the same feelings, particularly those who are newly diagnosed, realise that they are not alone.
Shortly after graduating from university last summer, at the beginning of what should have been a very exciting chapter in my life, I became extremely ill and was hosptialised with DKA. The hospital experience was brutal to say the least. I think that was the most traumatic thing about it all, being in the hospital all those days yearning to just go home and cry on my own bed. To go from a relatively normal life to having to inject myself with a needle 4-5x per day was definitely my breaking point.
But here is the shame: it took me until December to fully "recalibrate" / "return to relative normalcy" if you will. Yes, December. I didn't start looking for full-time jobs until December because before that I didn't even have the energy to put together a cover letter when all I could think about was potential future complications or whether I should take orange juice, lucozade or dextrose tablets for my next impending hypo; there's a strange decision most people will never have to ponder.
I've since been lucky to have been invited to a few interviews, though no success so far, and I'm consistently asked by interviewers about what I've been doing all these months; it's a terrible question to have to answer, because I can't actually tell them the truth, it's too shameful. On occasions I've made up lies, "I was travelling" or "I've been very selective about where I apply"; other times I have been as close to honesty as possible and cryptically say "I was unfortunately ill for a few weeks, which set me back a while, but since then I've been searching for jobs full time", but this never seems to go down well with interviewers and I wonder if it puts them off. The feedback from my last interview was horrendous: apparently I lack dynamism. When I read that I wanted to scream. If only they knew, maybe they wouldn't have said that, maybe they'd understand why I'm a little dull these days. But they can't know, it's none of their business, and in any event not my place to expect them to even care.
Will I find a job? I'm sure I will eventually, but that's not really my point. I guess what I'm getting at is that the feeling of just being diagnosed with a life long condition, plus the feeling of being at the mercy of others for a livelihood, and competing in the City nonetheless (not exactly a friendly place when you need a job), is eating away at my sanity, despite my best attempts to stay strong and ambitious. I have no choice but to suit up for these interviews, smile wide and put on a happy show for a panel of strangers who will eyeball me, judge me, ponder that big gap on the CV, and then most likely trash my CV in favour of someone else after I've left the room. It's a strange, oppressive feeling, as if there's literally no control over my life. It's a complete lack of freedom as dictated by a potent combination of mother nature and society. Or maybe I'm just weak. Regardless, I think the biggest challenge for me isn't controlling my blood sugars, but just coming to terms with this reality. At times it's truly frightening but I somehow manage to press on anyways.
Shortly after graduating from university last summer, at the beginning of what should have been a very exciting chapter in my life, I became extremely ill and was hosptialised with DKA. The hospital experience was brutal to say the least. I think that was the most traumatic thing about it all, being in the hospital all those days yearning to just go home and cry on my own bed. To go from a relatively normal life to having to inject myself with a needle 4-5x per day was definitely my breaking point.
But here is the shame: it took me until December to fully "recalibrate" / "return to relative normalcy" if you will. Yes, December. I didn't start looking for full-time jobs until December because before that I didn't even have the energy to put together a cover letter when all I could think about was potential future complications or whether I should take orange juice, lucozade or dextrose tablets for my next impending hypo; there's a strange decision most people will never have to ponder.
I've since been lucky to have been invited to a few interviews, though no success so far, and I'm consistently asked by interviewers about what I've been doing all these months; it's a terrible question to have to answer, because I can't actually tell them the truth, it's too shameful. On occasions I've made up lies, "I was travelling" or "I've been very selective about where I apply"; other times I have been as close to honesty as possible and cryptically say "I was unfortunately ill for a few weeks, which set me back a while, but since then I've been searching for jobs full time", but this never seems to go down well with interviewers and I wonder if it puts them off. The feedback from my last interview was horrendous: apparently I lack dynamism. When I read that I wanted to scream. If only they knew, maybe they wouldn't have said that, maybe they'd understand why I'm a little dull these days. But they can't know, it's none of their business, and in any event not my place to expect them to even care.
Will I find a job? I'm sure I will eventually, but that's not really my point. I guess what I'm getting at is that the feeling of just being diagnosed with a life long condition, plus the feeling of being at the mercy of others for a livelihood, and competing in the City nonetheless (not exactly a friendly place when you need a job), is eating away at my sanity, despite my best attempts to stay strong and ambitious. I have no choice but to suit up for these interviews, smile wide and put on a happy show for a panel of strangers who will eyeball me, judge me, ponder that big gap on the CV, and then most likely trash my CV in favour of someone else after I've left the room. It's a strange, oppressive feeling, as if there's literally no control over my life. It's a complete lack of freedom as dictated by a potent combination of mother nature and society. Or maybe I'm just weak. Regardless, I think the biggest challenge for me isn't controlling my blood sugars, but just coming to terms with this reality. At times it's truly frightening but I somehow manage to press on anyways.
) is this.
