Question: Would you consider a non-compliant diabetic as committing suicide?
I brought this up with my psychiatrist today.
Shrink: “Have you felt suicidal in the past two weeks?”
Me: “I have an autoimmune disease, no matter if my mind wants to or not, my body is constantly trying to commit suicide.”
Shrink:”So, is that a yes or a no?”
As a child I rebelled against my diabetes. I knew how to take care of myself and I knew damn well what would happen if I didn’t. But I didn’t take care of myself anyway. As a result I was constantly bombarded by my family and doctors with comments such as:
“You know you’re just committing very slow suicide, don’t you?”
I knew, and I did it anyway.
Many times in my life I have been so frustrated with trying to get it right, trying to get it under control, but not seeing any positive results. I would get burnt out and I would think things like, “What’s the use, why try? I just keep failing.” I would want to just give up. I would want to live like a “normal” person and eat what, when, and how much I want! Not check my BG, not take medication or insulin.
DAMN THE CONSEQUENCES!!!!!
But I would come to my senses. I would buck up and keep trying. I would say “No, no, no. I want to be healthy.”
But the past week or two I’ve found myself thinking the former, but not thinking or feeling the latter…
I told my psychiatrist:
“Last night I was laying in bed and I thought to myself, ‘I can wake up tomorrow morning and stop taking all my meds, and eat how I want, and live how I want…and I really don’t care what happens’. But of course, I woke up today and I took my meds and I did what I’m supposed to do…”
After talking about this and my past…my diagnosis story, and watching my family members die of the very same disease I have, and how it all shaped who I am and my loathing of my disease and myself… he suggested we make a treatment plan based on grief counseling. He believes my suffering is rooted in grief over not only loss of loved ones, but also of my feelings of loss of self.
I lost my identity when I was diagnosed. Everything changed in that moment, more than I ever knew. I was ripped away from me, and I had no idea who I was anymore. I didn’t like who I was now.
It makes perfect sense to me.