More Than a Sweet Girl

It was 10th March 2011, and just two days before, my 5th standard final exams had ended. I was sitting with my aunt at the doctor's clinic, waiting for the result of a urine test which was done to rule out the doubt my doctor had. For the past 4-5 months I had been visiting my physician frequently. First, it was chikungunya, followed by anaemia. I had lost around 10 kilograms of weight, felt exhausted, had excessive thirst and urination. Every time I entered the clinic I read a poster

placed on the wall, that said:

“Willpower and positive attitude are like wonder drugs. They have the power to heal and create miracles.”

It was around 12 noon when the doctor shared the test result. I had diabetes.

With this announcement, the air in the room suddenly felt heavy and tense. I had no idea what that meant. I remember I couldn’t think clearly and my heart was racing. All I knew was that something was wrong. Upon asking if this condition was curable, the answer was that it will be for a lifetime.

Lifetime, what does that mean? For a ten year old kid the concept of ‘lifetime’ is impalpable. How do you imagine what you don’t even know? How do you prepare yourself for what is yet to come? Somehow those words on that poster stayed with me, guiding me to be brave and strong, no matter what.

The type of diabetes was ascertained later. I have type 1 (t1D) in which the pancreas produces no insulin in the body, unlike type 2 where the pancreas does produce some insulin or that a person has insulin resistance. Insulin is essential for us to survive because it is responsible for transporting glucose into the cells which eventually provide us energy. This meant that I’d take insulin shots to support life forever. I have been taking 3 insulin shots a day for more than a decade now.

I was a kid, fighting my way. The challenge was never about refusing chocolates or anything sweet that my classmates offered or about running away when elders around me would force me to have a small bite of something that I can’t eat. I often joked that “I don’t need to eat sweets because I‘m already too sweet”. In fact, I never felt that I was deprived of taste. I tried my best to not become malnourished because of my diet restrictions.

But my real challenge was to fight the ignorance, judgements and stigmas around diabetes; to stand strong when I was shunned publicly. People around me initially brought solutions by charlatans claiming to cure t1D. Handling

myself, making informed decisions, reading more about it and talking to doctors to manage my condition in a better way; I did everything I could while my parents struggled to make ends meet. This continued for years.

Managing diabetes is expensive. In fact, we avoided buying glucometer strips for some time. Fast forward, and I am a teenager. The time when you’re subjected to a whole new level of standards to measure your worth. In school, I did everything I wanted regardless of diabetes. I loved science, literature, art and public speaking. When I stood at the podium, it gave me the sugar rush! I was also the studious and curious type (a reason why I got interested in studying the brain and its cognitive faculties). But all that I was, wasn’t enough for many. Be it a few

elders (read a few school teachers and relatives) who thought that I shouldn’t tell the world about my health, or would pity me, treat me as an underdog. I once encountered a teacher who, in a parent-teacher meeting, claimed in front of all other parents and my classmates that I exaggerate about my condition. “Just look at others who have food allergies, at least you can eat wheat!”, she said.

Or be it peers who found me ugly, weird, fat, too mature and serious. In other words, uncool for that age. I was hurt and judged myself more by their standards than themselves. But even then, I didn’t stop my pursuits. However, I won’t deny that it did leave a mark, both on my physical and mental health. An impression that I was far from normal and will never be loved and accepted. But, why didn’t I pay attention to the ones who found me to be smart, strong, kind, empathetic

and beautiful in my own way? Why is it that the impact of the nasty things that people say stays longer with us than the time they stayed in our lives? Why do we fail to recognize that the standards people use are broken and senseless? We don’t recognize that these baseless ideals stem from our culture’s ignorance, unquestioned authority, rigidity to accept diversity and obsession with superiority- the only way for us to feel “better about ourselves”. One can break free only by walking out of these “social bubbles“ every now and then. You will be surprised by what exists outside these bubbles.

We as a society fail to be empathetic, because it’s difficult when our self esteem is rendered by comparison. Imagine if every time one needed to see who is better, otherwise you have an identity crisis! We don’t have the patience or vulnerability to just listen and feel what is being said. It asks for the ability to imagine the world beyond your experience.

But, there are times when even empathy fails. The loss is real, you feel the void. Often, I compare my current state with the time when I was completely healthy. I have poor eyesight (hyperopia) which worsened after being infected with COVID. I badly wish to be that 5 year old who didn’t need specs to see the world. Sometimes I feel like doing nothing, my limbs hurt after injecting insulin because of contusions and swelling. I have injuries on my tummy that take time to heal. I didn’t look like those girls with flawless skin.

During my teens, I tried to crack down the problem of imagining the concept of ‘lifetime’- only to be more miserable. You see, the catch is that you imagine your end with the disease. It brought negative impressions because all that I saw around was people who succumbed to this disease. Even while talking with my doctors during all these years, the conversation has never been about living healthy but to avoid further complications. To always imagine the worst and seeing your entire life around it, takes away the life in itself. So the challenge is to fight my own hopelessness. Accepting my body has helped me to bring myself closer to healing. You no longer hold on to pain and aggravate it, that’s the power of acceptance! And when I know a void exists in my life, it’s better that I see it as a space for growing something more than I initially had. A little zest of braveness is enough to imagine a beautiful life that we all deserve.

Reading all that I shared, one might feel, was I all alone? No, I’m truly blessed to have amazing individuals who have my back. It was these loved ones who saved me many times. But even then, one can’t erase those moments from my life when it feels dark in the night, all alone. When I fear to live a life any less than I want. I cry, complain and then start all over again.

Just trust yourself, your dreams and continue to walk the path. Eventually we meet people who understand and accept us as who we are. But if we don't listen to our inner voice and continue to walk, we will never realize how insignificant these social bubbles are. All that we can do is not to change ourselves, no matter how frustrated we feel.

If tomorrow, I meet a child who is diabetic who feels unworthy and not enough, I will hug that kid tight. I will give a pat and talk of how amazing he or she is. I’d tell this braveheart that he or she is capable of living life to the fullest and deserves all the love.

If I can do this for that kid, why do I fail to treat myself the same way? Why am I unkind to myself, oblivious to my own strength and not respecting my own journey? I hope we all are more kind to ourselves. I hope we all appreciate how amazing our bodies are and take better care of ourselves. We are nothing short of a masterpiece! I hope we all find courage to question the dogmas and own our stories.