Howdy, new here, thought I'd share a little of my story.
I was dx'd at the age of 14, at a physical we thought was required to enter high school. Sugar in the UA, BG ~500. Told to check into the childrens hospital the next day. Checked in, and that night overnight the 500 year flood of 1993 took out our city's Water Works plant. Learning to diabetic meal plan in a hospital with no water was quite a feat to say the least.
Tangentially to the D, but a part of who I am....my older brother passed away in a car accident 10 months after my dx, and almost exactly a year after that my father had a mild heart attack. If I thought my mom had begun to "helicopter" after my dx, then more after my brother's death, I had another thing coming when diet became an issue for my father too. Disclaimer: I am NOT criticizing her with that statement...any mom would react that way.....it just is the truth as it is...although part of me believes it contributed to my sense of loss of life-control.
Late teens and early 20's, of course I had my rebellion against self-care. I happen to believe it was an undiagnosed form of an eating disorder, although not directed at weight loss. I have always been a stick, and remain underweight to this day. The day my parents attempted to stage an intervention and check me into the hospital, all I could shout about in the car was that I was going to control this, not them. So I think my rebellion was a bid to regain the life-control I had lost...I was going to control D instead of D controlling me, and I was going to do it by refusing to do it. Thankfully, at some point I figured out I have more control over my destiny by obeying the directives of the disease than I could ever dream to have through rebellion.
As I tried to get back on the D wagon, suddenly I had a needle phobia that I had decidedly NOT had at dx. I would sit in the bathroom for half an hour trying to insert the syringe, and finally get so emotional that I would give up, shoot the insulin into the sink and go back to my life. Then one day, at 24 years old, I stepped on a scale and it read 84 pounds. That was when I finally asked for help.
Then in 2004 and 2005, retinopathy hit both eyes at once. Four months essentially blind, two vitrectomies, a combined total of 11 post-op weeks face down 24/7, a lens implant and a capsulectomy later, I'm corrected to 20/30 in one eye and blind and shrunken with a prosthetic in the other. That's when you REALLY learn about keeping your morale up no matter what. When you're in that kind of holding pattern, your state of mind is the only thing you have the POWER to fight.
Today I'm married with a house, two cats and a dog, I drive and have have a full time job that is crazy but that I love. Every. Single. One of those things happened AFTER my dx and AFTER my blindness--including getting my driver's license for the very first time at 30. But for my blood relatives, I didn't even KNOW any one of the individuals in my everyday life before my blindness. Not ONE.
I have been told by more than one person that I am the most "silver lining" person they know. What choice have I had? D will emotionally put you under the table if you let it. So will Life all by itself, actually, but something like D most definitely magnifies it a hundred-fold.
Moral of the story: It gets better, but attitude matters. You have to BELIEVE it will get better. And although I haven't been at TuD long, I can already tell it's a huge resource for helping it get better.
Sorry for going on so long. Hopefully my 11pm ramblings will help someone who might be struggling.