Capturing life with T1D, one drawing at a time…
There is just no easy way to explain life with type 1 diabetes. Always something going on: low, high, inject, sensor, change sides, error, plus the 42 factors that affect every meal. With all that said, trying to keep your blood sugars within range 24 hours a day is just an impossible task. But we people with type 1 do it all the time.
Maybe you don’t realise it so much, but my brain is wired to detect, to feel, to manage, to survive one day at a time. The pancreas is an amazing organ, but when it no longer produces insulin, I have to do the math. A “free” life is then tied to numbers.
One important fact for those unfamiliar with type 1 diabetes is that it’s not a lifestyle-related condition but an autoimmune condition with no cure. Any advice on diet, alternative or holistic ways will not cure this condition. The simple fact is: without insulin, I won’t live.
Unfortunately, there is no magic pill, only syringes and needles; nowadays sensors on arms and insulin pumps attached to our bodies. The technological possibilities make life easier (sometimes not!), but they also make me very dependent on medical supplies.
Nevertheless, life is to be lived fully. At least that’s my motto. I would not let my type 1 dictate or stop me from doing what I wanted in life. I would sit in meetings with high or very low blood sugar and act normal. But as time passes, it gets to you, shows on your face, and your brain and body really slow down, becoming easily exhausted. And only if you’re a little lucky, you escape early complications.
But I don’t let it get to me. There is a border I don’t want to cross. The times I do cross it are when I meet fellow type 1s. I see their struggle, and it’s like looking in a mirror. Then I feel the pain, deep and sharp, like a needle in my heart.
For friends and family, it’s an impossible task to feel compassion and empathy every time blood sugars go up or down. Sometimes I want them to be more empathetic; other times I want to be left alone. It’s a thin line, and it’s difficult for my loved ones to anticipate. At the end of the day, if someone likes or loves me, they get the type 1 for free.
Most likely at some point you have to adapt and find other things to do. I found drawing a great way to express myself. Not that I could draw at all.
So last year, I took drawing classes and decided to tell some stuff about my life. But, as always, type 1 diabetes kind of took over the narrative. So there it comes…
Through my work, I invite you into that same playful courage: trying new things, making room for mistakes and creating something for type 1 diabetics.
Diagnosed with type 1 diabetes in 1993, I’m the daughter of a Dutch mother (Verburg) and Turkish father (Keklik), and I grew up between Zurich, Istanbul, Diemen, Cyprus, and now I’m rooted in Amsterdam. Here, I worked as a pedagogue in health education and in child and youth protection, especially with disabilities.
I tend to be quite introverted, with an intense focus that can make me lose track of time and sometimes even forget to eat. That tendency isn’t ideal alongside type 1 diabetes, but it’s very much part of how I’m wired.
I also grew up with Pippi Longstocking: strong, independent and stubborn. Her fearless spirit still guides me:
“I have never done it before and that’s why I think I can.”
